Today we honor those who lost their lives fighting for this country and the things for which this country stands. For me, it brings to mind the feeling I get each time I return to the US after being abroad, the feeling that “I’m home, the US is where I belong, where I choose to be.” Call it love of country.
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Mind you, there are parts of this great land where I choose not to domicile. My feelings about the US remind me of what a German emigre friend of my father famously said of beer, “Der is no bad beer, but … some is better than others.”
At various times in a long life I have called each of the four continental US time zones “home.” I have ended up in the Mountain West because I find it “better than others.”
I would not voluntarily live on the West Coast as it is currently managed, ditto the Acela corridor. Basically the handful of “blue” states are places I don’t mind visiting, like I don’t mind visiting abroad. But I would not voluntarily call any “home.”
Both places I now call home are parts of the Mountain West; it is roomy country with big vistas, big mountains, dry air, and life-giving rivers. My mountain valley in WY is drained by the Snake River and its tributaries.
From my NV backyard I see big nearby mountains in NV, UT, and AZ just by turning my head. The Virgin River starts high in those UT mountains, exits UT just south of St. George, cuts a gorge across a corner of northwestern AZ, crosses into NV, and ends up in the Colorado River at Lake Mead.
While the Virgin is mostly no bigger than a stream or healthy creek, in a desert a year-round river of any size is basically a miracle. In St. George - currently a boom town - it seems half the major street names refer somehow to that miraculous little river.