Yesterday, during church services, a speaker read this quote from Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-1859) and his book, Democracy in America:

“I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her commodious harbors and her ample rivers, and it was not there. I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her fertile fields and boundless forests, and it was not there. I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her rich mines and her vast world commerce, and it was not there. I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her public school system and her institutions of learning, and it was not there. I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her democratic Congress and her matchless Constitution, and it was not there. Not until I went into the churches of America and heard her pulpits flame with righteousness did I understand the secret of her genius and power. America is great because America is good, and if America ever ceases to be good America will cease to be great.”

The words touched my heart and I couldn’t have agreed more with his sentiment. But last night I realized that de Tocqueville didn’t quite have it exactly correct.
Now, I don’t blame de Tocqueville because when he toured America, the Midwest was just in its infancy. He didn’t get a chance to see it the way I saw it last night. But, I know that if he had witnessed what I had, he would have added “and small towns” right next to churches.

Last night, Andrew, my son, and the rest of the cast of our local Community College’s performance of “Grease” were asked to perform a couple of numbers in the band shell in the park. Along with their two numbers, I had the opportunity to listen to the Freeport Concert Band play a wide variety of numbers, from their opening number of America the Beautiful to a Duke Ellington medley. They were wonderful. The music was lovely and heartfelt. The band played with feeling and gusto.

But it was more than the music; the impact of the evening was the musicians who shared their talents and their love for music. I don’t know the exact number of people playing last night – at least fifty. And from a spectator’s perspective there were at least six and perhaps seven generations of Freeporters represented on that stage. There were young people, who might have been in their late teens or early twenties, playing along senior citizens easily in their sixties or seventies. There were representatives from different races, religions and political persuasions. Yet they all came together on a balmy summer night to play American music in a band shell surrounded by grass, trees, picnic blankets, families and friends.

This is America at her finest. This is the “good” that Alexis de Tocqueville found. This is the love and pride of country that makes us great. I had forgotten the magic of a band shell performance on a Sunday night. I had forgotten the joy of leaning back on a blanket under the stars, with family close by and listening to the powerful strains of Sousa while the evening dusk turns to a starry night. I had forgotten why I love small town America so much. This brought it all rushing back.

Too often we turn on the television and isolate ourselves. Too often we end the busy day with a closed door. We used to be a country of front porches and evening walks. We used to be a country of Fourth of July picnics and Sunday evening concerts. We used to be a country of neighbor helping neighbor. We used to be a country that understood that our greatness and power came from our people and was lent to our government. And we can be that country once again. For the sake of our children and our grandchildren, we have to preserve that nation.

Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

This morning I went out to my backyard and picked blueberries. It was about 6:30, so the sun was just rising, the dew was heavy on the grass, the birds were singing, our rooster was crowing and the air was still a little chilly.

At first, picking the berries was a chore - something I had to get through before I started the rest of my day. Bucket in hand, I bent over and started plucking them off the top branches of the bushes - hurry, hurry, I have things to do and people to see.

But picking blueberries is not a hurry-hurry kind of thing. You have to be meticulous, pulling each ripe berry away from the stem, being careful not to disturb its little still green neighbors. You have to search and study. You have to peer and investigate. Only then will you find the purple-blue treasures bursting with juice.

After a few moments, I knew that standing would never work, so I tried to sit on the edge of the patch. We have 4 x 4s lining the area. When I sat, I could see some of the blueberries I missed on the first round. But, even from this perspective, I really couldn't get to all of them.

Finally, I sat on the ground facing the blueberries. Yes, the ground was still wet and certain parts of my anatomy distinctly felt it - but once your bottom is wet, well, you're committed.

I stopped trying to beat a blueberry picking record and started enjoying the simple task of blueberry picking. I thought about how life was a lot like picking blueberries, if you hurry through it too much - you miss some of the most delightful treasures. I thought about my blog - and how I was going to share this with you. I thought about how lucky I was to be able to pick blueberries on a summer's morning - the first day of July.

Then I tested something - I picked a blueberry from one of the top branches of the bush and popped it into my mouth - although it was big and beautiful and easy to reach - it was a little sour. Then I scoured deep into the bush and hunted for a smaller, darker and harder to find blueberry. The juice was sweet and lush - everything you'd want in a blueberry.

Once again I was reminded how often we overlook the real treasures because we only reach for the obvious and the easy. Was it sweeter because I had to work harder to find it? Um, no, but that would have been cool - wouldn't it?

Take some time today and go blueberry picking - whether your blueberry picking of choice is smelling the flowers at the florist, having a deep conversation with a five-year old, listening to a senior citizen talk about their life, reading instead of skimming or just stopping to count the blessings in your life - I promise you that it will be time well spent.