I used to think the country western song “Proud to be an American” by Lee Greenwood was just a little bit hokey.  You know: “And I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free.”  I thought it sounded, oh, I don’t know.  Like it took things a little too far. That it was a little too much. 

And then I stood in Union Square behind the reflecting pool that’s in front of the U.S. Capitol, staring at the bronze Statue of Freedom piercing the slate blue sky, and listened to nearly 300 members of the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir sing “’cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land, God bless the USA” and I changed my mind. 

Because I did. Love this land. Like never before. Like I didn’t even know I did. Attending the 57^th inauguration of our country’s president was like nothing I’ve ever done. All that pledging to allegiance in grade school, that taking off of hats when the National Anthem is playing: I felt it.

I felt lucky. Really really really lucky.  To live here. To be there, witnessing a history that some people on this planet will never know. That some are dying for, every day. 

My ticket was for the standing area behind the Capitol Reflecting Pool. I’m not good at judging distance but I know it wasn’t anywhere near close enough to tell by sight that it was President Barack Obama who stood under the red bunting, waiting to be announced. But it didn’t matter; the roar that went up from those in front of me, and around me, and way way down the National Mall behind me, was the cue. 

I stood directly in front of the Capitol. Sometimes I watched the Jumbotron, positioned up ahead to my left. I watched as the Supreme Court justices walked in, and the Cabinet, and President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalyn, and President Bill Clinton, and Hillary Rodham Clinton, who was on his arm and not, as Secretary of State, with the Cabinet.

The crowd cheered. They roared when the cameras showed Michelle Obama in the hall, walking toward the balcony. And when Malia and Sasha Obama appeared. And when the president came into view, they yelled and cheered. I yelled and cheered. 

Just before the oath of office was administered, James Taylor sang “America the Beautiful,” and suddenly, there I was, with tears in my eyes. As President Obama raised his hand, I stopped watching the massive television screen and looked around me; turned 360 degrees, slowly, taking in the faces of the people who stood next to me; who’d been standing there for more than three hours, who’d gotten on the Metro at 4, 5, 6 a.m. to reach this point, to witness this moment, to be a part of this history.  

And that’s what was the most awe-inspiring thing of all, to feel, really feel a part of history. Not as a Democrat, or Republican, or Independent. But as an American. Watching, listening, hearing the president of my country, being sworn in. 

When it was over, and I was thrust along Third Street with the rest of the masses, I did it, I sang the song. “And I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free.” 

And it didn’t sound hokey at all.