It took a trip to Washington DC to make me feel the slightest bit patriotic this Fourth of July. After seeing Fahrenheit 9-11 a couple nights before the trip, I wondered how I could muster up the spirit to be amongst a sea of flag-waving, "God Bless the USA" singing Americans...

...but DC did it. The museums, and especially the memorials, helped me look past the current administration, the war, and all the politics and get back in touch with the roots of this country and all the lofty hopes and ideals it is constantly struggling to attain. We've stumbled, yes. We sure are stumbling right now. But there is still a lot to be proud of.

Being at the WWII Memorial with my grandpa was especially moving People came up and thanked him, saying their father, or grandfather, or uncle, or whoever served in the war. You could tell that many of the people at the memorial were visiting to honor someone they had lost....not in the war, but after it. It memorial was built too late for so many WWII Veterans who have passed on of old age. I am so lucky to have shared that experience with my grandpa. I'll cherish the memories forever.

But what really did it for me, was the "Nuestra Musica" festival the Smithsonian had set up as part of their big annual American Folklife Festival on the National Mall. The performers and announcers made sure to remind the audience that this was a showcase of LATINO musicians, Americans, not exoctics from foreign lands. That Latino culture is also American culture, and has been here for centuries.

The multi-state. multi-ethnic conglomeration of Americans present on our nations mall loved every minute of it. They packed into the performance tents watched the awesome performers, sang together, and danced together. Watching them dance was amazing.

People who had never met each other, of every color and race got together on that dance floor and let it loose. Old people, young people, even a guy in a wheelchair danced. Each person brought their own unique twist to the dance floor (I've never seen people dance to Cumbia or Tejano music the way some of them did!) The less experienced tried to learn from each other and borrow each other's moves. And when someone didn't have a partner when they got on the dance floor, a few seconds later they did.

That dance floor gave me something to celebrate on the Fourth of July. It represented what I hope America is about. A very diverse group of folks coming together, learning from each other, but staying true to themselves, all while making something far from perfect, but still beautiful.