Liberation

I've been hearing one of those stories that gives me goose bumps.

There's been a documentary on for many nights - THE WAR about World War II. This woman was 11 years old, an American who had been living in Philippinnes and was stuck in a Japanese internment camp. They had hardly any food -- she said it would become a game that they would lay down and put their finger in their stomach and be able to feel their backbone; as little children, it was a way to help them get through it all.

Then, she talks about the day the Americans came and liberated the camp. Her mother was bedridden, down to half of what her weight had been at the beginning of the war. They each had a little memento that they made sure to save to wear when "their boys" came. Her mom had a little bit of lipstick, she had a little sock, and her sister had a hairclip. When the Americans broke down the front gate of the camp, it was the best day of her life. Her dad picked up her mom, who couldn't walk, and carried her out of the little shanty to see the soldiers coming. Her mom demanded that they go back to the shanty so she could put on her lipstick she had been saving.

These stories make me get all gooey inside. I feel fluttery, and so, so proud of my country and our soldiers. Of course our country has its problems, but every time I hear about the little towns in Europe being liberated by the Americans and the British coming through, or this young girl who had been starving in a camp, and finally her "boys" came to save her, it makes me smile and be glad that I'm an American.