I don’t remember how old I was when I started to cry during the National Anthem, but I can’t get through the song today without welling up.
Something about all that pride and sacrifice and the pain and pleasure of memory coming together in the words of a song that has become a part of my DNA as surely as my eye color and gender.
On Monday, when my family and I joined more than 1,000 others at the Adrienne Arsht Center in Miami to watch the simulcast of the presidential inauguration, I stood with my daughters and wondered when they would start to feel this weight of powerful emotion summoned by just a few chords.
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My Yahoo