What does it mean to be a patriot? Many people have Ideas of what it means. But I believe right now many people are confused. With the recent assassination attempt of former president Donald trump, it brought to light the very distinct beliefs of many people. Some people might think that he was just messed up or maybe his decision was induced by drugs or peer pressure. But I believe he knew what he was doing. Everyone has their own beliefs although some are wrong, they still believe them. Some with powerful zealous. I know captain America isn't the most influential person in the world, but he said something that resembles my thoughts exactly for this man Thomas crooks. In a conversation he was talking to maria hill when she called the twins nuts for letting a scientist experiment on them. Captain answered with “right who would let a German scientist experiment on them to help protect their country.” Maria hill replies with “were not at war captain” “they are” was his response. Did you catch that? He told her that their zealousness was the reason they did it. It was because of their love for their country that they would go to such lengths. Crooks shouldn't have done what he did but he did it because he thought it was for the best. He didn't think trump was the best thing for his country and when he deduce trump was going to win the election. He decided to take things into his own young and capable hands. He knew it would most likely mean his life would end but he was willing to sacrifice his life because of what he thought was right. I by no means am happy about the assassination attempt. But I do know everything happens for a reason. I know God has a plan for trump and for Thomas's family although they might not see it yet. Ok back to patriotism. So obviously trying to kill the former president isn't what patriotism is, I think we all can agree. So what is it then. I believe it is knowing what the founding fathers meant when they created the constitution. Why they made it and why they created this country in the first place. What are the answers to these questions? Well, they created the constitution to protect our freedoms to keep our country inline. to remind us of why they created this amazing country we are fortunate to live in. They wanted us to have the freedom they didn't have when under British rule. They wanted us to know our worth and to know how great of a people we could be if under God. They wanted to show the world how strong we can be when united as one nation. They knew how to work together, to communicate and to sacrifice all they had for the good of all people. There are people in this country who are accusing the founding fathers and other historic men/women, of genocide. However, we know that without sacrifice there is no reward. Yes, the American forefathers' hands were dripping in the blood of men who fought against there freedom. But they did it to protect the lives of millions of others. Evey country has blood stains that can't go away, no matter how hard you scrub. True patriots should know the history of your country. Why we believe in what we believe in and why others believe what they believe. Being a patriot doesn't only mean wearing a don't tread on me shirt or a I plead the 2nd although exhibiting freedom of speech is definitely needed at times. We need a filter, something that tells us what is acceptable and what is not. That is why we have laws and morals and the knowledge of right or wrong. Some men and women have abused this filter turning off crucial factors in it. I as a Christian have the holy spirit to filter my thoughts and feelings to give me control over my actions and irrational decisions. That is why the founding fathers called us “one nation under God.” They knew without him this nation wouldn't stand. That is why I believe our country is falling at a rash and horrifying speed. We got rid of our filter. Being a patriot is not about killing for what you think is right it is standing for freedom, not only for yourself but for your family and whole nation. Not backing down when they press you against the wall hoping you will lose your beliefs and faith in the creator of the world and people you are fighting for. That is what being a true patriot means. Stand strong, hold fast, and keep believing.

My fathers never died on this soil, but its freedom has enveloped my essence. This land is not my origin, but this land is my future. My passport states that my nationality is Indian, but I am an American. I wasn't a US citizen, and at the time I didn't even have a green card, but for a piercing moment it didn't matter; I loved the United States of America no matter how minuscule or indirect my part was. The land of the free and the home of the brave made the person I could never be under the flag of another nation because true patriotism isn't taught or learned, it flows through a man like blood: it gives him life. The Thanksgiving of the election year should have been like every other Thanksgiving: forgettable. I don't celebrate a formal Thanksgiving with a turkey or even a dinner (for religious reasons of course). I spent every Thanksgiving until then simply making a list for black Friday so I could unbridle my most frugal capitalist desires in 24 hours. But that year a greater American feeling, even higher than capitalist urges, gripped and wrenched me from my idle nothingness. That night I read for the 5th time a book on WWII, full of letters and accounts by the vets about the war, and felt the beating hearts of 3 million men who endured the Depression and battled the fury of der Führer and Hirohito. Perhaps it was knowledge of the great sacrifice and struggle that resonated with me, because as I turned the final pages, all I could hear my neighbor's star spangled banner waving, unfurling its grace from sea to shining sea. For that moment, I wasn't a simple 9th grader immigrant searching for belonging: I was by Washington's side in Yorktown hoisting the American flag above the land for all to see; I was at Gettysburg as the fight for the repair the Union filled rivers with blood; I was holding an M1 Garand and storming the beaches of Adolf Hitler's empire; I was, above all else, completed by national pride. The epiphany took me by storm; by the time I finished a breath I lived not for myself anymore, but for my country and its patriotism. Its virtue swirled like a fiery tornado and swept my being from one without meaning to one instilled with the purpose to serve. This unrestricted and omnipresent rage of uncompromising loyalty to a nation, instead of a mere party or group, is what quells global chaos even in the direst of situations. For a few years since I wanted nothing more than to speak to one of the men who toppled the fascist regimes. I began worrying that I would live life without meeting even one member of the Greatest Generation. I was passionate. And oftentimes, true passion will yield the most golden opportunities by chance. On a particular spring weekend, I was at a leadership camp, carefree but still learning. And when I least expected it, a miracle occurred. That morning, our camp a had a flag salute, only instead of the cabinmates singing the national anthem, there was an old man in a gray suit and a blue tie with red and white stripes and stars, standing next to the flagpole as the flag was hoisted with small piece of parchment in his right hand. The camp fell silent, as our gazes narrowed on this man who stood so firmly and with such resolution despite his age. We were given a brief introduction about this man, but the speaker had a frail voice and could barely project ten feet so most of the information fell on deaf ears. As the crowd mumbled with people asking each other what the speaker was saying about the man, the old man straightened his tie and took the mic from the speaker when she finished. He cleared his throat, and his voice permeated the grounds. He gave a brief description of himself, hinting subtly his past in the military and the years he had spent with the flag sewn on his uniform, and then took a good look at the flag waving in the golden colors of the sun and the morning breeze. Unfolding the parchment in his hands, he read aloud “Old Glory”. We all watched, our gazes affixed on the flag as it fluttered in and out of our view of the sun, as he recounted the history of America through the eyes of the banner that watched over the nation from high spires. Our hearts beat in unison, as the man lead us through the fields of Saratoga and Yorktown, and the green of Arlington as mothers bereave for their heroic sons wrapped in a beautiful shroud of red, white, and blue. His fierce brown eyes sparkled like fire when he spoke of its days beside young boys drifted off to fight the Nazis and the Japanese. At that moment a friend beside me gave me a nod: this man was no ordinary man, this was a man who American boys strived to be every day. This was a man who could stand for justice through calm and storm. This was a man who lasted the Depression and its suffering and the turmoils of the Normandy beaches. This man had surrendered his very life for the well-being of this country. My search for a conversation with the greatest this nation had to offer ended here.