Where does your allegiance lie?

&emsp;&emsp;I came of age in the turbulence of the 1960s and early '70s. Unlike my friends and classmates, I was politically precocious. As a child I clipped newspaper stories about Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King. My heroes were William Kunstler and the Chicago Seven. I still have my McGovern-Shriver campaign pin from the 1972 presidential election, even though it would be another four years before I was able to cast a vote. &emsp;&emsp;It was a time when there were a multitude of issues that sharply divided the country. There was the Vietnam War and civil rights, women's rights and the American Indian Movement. The division ran deep, and there was very little middle ground to be seen. &emsp;&emsp;Among the legal victories that came from this era of revolution were several that cemented fundamental political speech rights protected by the First Amendment of the United States Constitution. There was a lot of symbolic burning going on at that time — people burned bras, draft cards, and especially the American flag. And when they weren't burning the flag, they were cutting it up to sew it onto various articles of denim clothing. While the stars and stripes now appear on everything from hats to socks, in the beginning that was viewed as deplorable disrespect. &emsp;&emsp;I believe the students of the public high school I attended stopped saying the Pledge of Allegiance about the same time they dumped the dress code. I seriously doubt that most students saw it as a political statement, but just in case...&emsp;&emsp;I really gave little thought to the Pledge for many years. It wasn't until I started attending municipal meetings for my father that I ran into people who were actually saying it. Over the years I have had trouble with some of the words in that Pledge, and I have edited my personal statement to reflect those concerns. I've never considered abandoning it entirely, because, bottom line, I do pledge allegiance to the symbol of a country that at least espouses the highest ideals of justice even when its every action often falls very short.&emsp;&emsp;And that attitude, oddly enough, is a direct result of a slogan that was quite popular during the political and cultural revolution of my youth: "America - Love It or Leave It." That's what the "establishment" told the activists who fought for what we believed was justice. Hold it, I thought, the essence of the American Constitution and the birth of this nation is that blind allegiance is the complete opposite of what we should consider patriotism. I don't lose my right to be an American because the America I envision involves a duty to hold the government accountable.&emsp;&emsp;This is MY country.&emsp;&emsp;That point was driven home in the past year due to a Christmas gift I gave myself last year — an Ancestry DNA kit and subscription. (As an aside, do NOT do this test and use this service unless you are truly prepared to find out things about your family you really do not want to know.)&emsp;&emsp;I have always fought the idea that the American flag and patriotism should be linked primarily to military service. Granted, there have been countless Americans who have gone off to war because their country asked them to, and so many of them have died because they considered military service their patriotic duty. But we need to broaden our concept of patriotism to those who serve our country without carrying a gun — to the teachers who educate our children, the people who died in service to the Peace Corps, the Freedom Riders of the 1960s — so many people whose lives are symbols of the epitome of service to our country. &emsp;&emsp;My family tree has a long and varied system of roots in this country. Military service is prevalent in most generations dating back to the American Revolution. My great-uncle's remains lie at rest in Italy, where he died during World War II. Another family member died during World War I when the flu spread through the barracks where he and other soldiers were waiting in New York to ship off to Europe. The Union Army rolls contain the names of ancestors from both sides of my family. One great-great-something was murdered on his way home from a fund-raiser to honor the Civil War dead and their families.&emsp;&emsp;Although my DNA shows my roots began in Europe and the UK, you have to go back a ways to find the immigrants who chose a future in America. One great-grandfather came from Germany around the turn of the last century, but you have to look back several centuries to find another immigrant, this one from Scotland. About that same time, my family tree also comes from the proud heritage of the original natives of this country, in my case, the Lenape tribe of the Eastern Seaboard. &emsp;&emsp;But mostly my roots stretch deep into the soil of this country. My ancestors were the farmers and miners who worked every day of their lives and struggled to feed their families. The presence of Nigerian blood in my DNA leads me to believe that at some point at least one of my ancestors was a slave. &emsp;&emsp;So, yes, this is my country. It was my country long before it was the United States of America, and it grew as the United States thanks to my ancestors. I will pledge allegiance to the symbol of the country built by my ancestors, even when I oppose the actions of its government and its citizens. That is patriotism in its truest form.&emsp;&emsp; &emsp;&emsp; &emsp;&emsp;