Golden Door

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tos't to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" - Emma Lazarus

There are many reasons I am proud of the country where I live.  I was not born here, but have lived here nearly all my life, and although the USA has had many moments, past and present, of which I am not proud, I am exceedingly proud of this: we are the Mother of Exiles.

I love Emma Lazarus' poem, and cannot wait until someday I see the engraving of it on the Statue of Liberty, because that's what the United States means to me.  From the moment we bought our liberty in blood, we have been the home of the poor huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the homeless and tempest tossed. 

We have not always been kind to the huddled masses, and there have been many political movements and public sentiment against welcoming the wretched refuse of other teeming shores, but in the end, we are the home of brave, and those who leave their homeland in search of hope and a new life are brave, indeed.

Maeve will grow up in a state whose Hispanic population seems to double every few years, she will go to school with at least as many Spanish speakers as she does English. She may go to school, like I did, with children whose parents have fled persecution and despotic regimes, and learn the real meaning of freedom through their eyes.  But she will always be a part of this great, wide land that has always had room enough for anyone yearning to breathe free.

Listen here, bub, I'm an American! You're not the boss of me!