I've never really thought of myself as a nationalist. Sure, the United States of America has been good to me, but I've avoided any jingoism over my 29 years. It wasn't until yesterday when our president signed into law legislation that allows torture and eliminates habeas corpus that I realized how much I loved our country—and how much it hurts to see it destroyed in my generation.

It reminds me of how Bush has lived up to his promise of being "a United and not a Divider" by doing more for global democracy than any previous president, namely uniting the world against him. In fact, despite hiding behind the flag (or in front of it, in the case of photo ops), Bush's seeming contempt for America has ignited in me a patriotism that I thought long extinguished.

Here are just a few things that I love about this country that Bush seems to hate:

1. Three different branches of government that provide checks and balances that hold one another accountable. An incredibly good idea for so many reasons, yet he's constantly undermining the authority of other branches—or at least whining and calling them names when they dare do their job.
2. Democracy. Yes, as in "the will of the people". As in "governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed." With a job approval rating of around 30%, the consent of the governed probably has little impact on any decisions in this White House. In fact, I'd bet they think "the governed" have no idea what's best for this country—and many would agree with them in that belief. It is, however, un-American.
3. Our country is a safe place that treats people with dignity and fairness. The statue of justice is blind, remember? That's a symbol that the law treats you equally whomever you may be, not a symbol that the law looks the other way while you're wrongfully abducted and sent to a secret prison or are stuck in Guantanemo Bay for months without ever being charged for a crime.

I recently had a conversation about all of this with my (more conservative than I) step-brother, who is currently teaching English in South Korea. He lives only 50 miles away from North Korea. Still, our last chat went something like this:

"Hey Stan, what's up in the States. I never hear about anything other than new movies coming out," he asks.

"I'm kinda bummed about this torture debate." I say.

"Ha ha..." he laughs.

"No really," I say.

"What do you mean? Who could possibly be for torture?" he asks.

It was a stunning example of how far we've slid in the four years he's spent overseas. I'm going to have a chance to see him this Thanksgiving, when a bunch of American's in Asia will be descending on his house (or tiny, tiny apartment rather) for the holidays. We have plenty to be thankful for, like the America we grew up in—and may have again one day.