Shannon Costello

There is a multi-story patio within the Organization of American States headquarters in Washington D. C. A stately marble fountain, too tall for me to reach the top, presides over the center of the tiled floor. The Peace Tree’s upper boughs brush the glass-paneled roof high above the arched entryways and balconies. This tree is only part of the dense plant population adoring a patio designed so that a visitor from a Latin-American nation “se siente en casa”- feels at home.

As I ascend one of the two enormous staircases that flank the patio sides I notice that the steps are uncomfortably low for me to tread one at a time. Then I reflect that such a building is designed for wealthy ladies and gentlemen. I imagine myself in formal wear, with skirts trailing on the floor behind me, and my steps slow.

The World War II Memorial across the street is built around a large sunken oval surrounded by stone walls inscribed with quotes of American generals and over fifty tall stone pillars engraved with the names of the states and other territories. The center is a large pool spouting jet after jet of water which sparkles in the early-morning light. The sound of falling water muffles all other sounds.

An older man passes by me and I wonder what connection he feels to this place. Is he a veteran? I am powerfully affected knowing that the United States gave so much during those years. I realize that somehow I am patriotic after all, and I grapple with my allegiance to my nation, wondering how to fit it in with my other allegiances, wondering how to think about America in the twenty-first century.