My Country, ‘Tis Of Thee
Samuel Francis Smith wrote the lyrics to “America” in 1831. His use of the same melody as the British royal anthem is a contrafactum, which reworks this symbol of British monarchy to make a statement about American democracy. The lyrics speak of liberty, freedom, and patriotism, and it served as the de facto national anthem until the adoption of “The Star-Spangled Banner” as the official U.S. national anthem in 1931.
To the Founding Fathers, patriotism was never a matter of blind loyalty or empty slogans. It was something deeper, something enduring. It was like the love a father has for his children—not because they are perfect, but because he sees in them the power to become something extraordinary. Each child is different. Some are bold, some cautious. Some dream of freedom, others of order. But a father’s love holds them all. And so did the Founding Fathers hold a nation, still in its infancy, with vision, sacrifice, and unwavering hope.
George Washington, the first to lead this American family, spoke with the calm authority of a father who had seen the cost of division. He knew how easy it was for siblings to turn on one another and how fragile unity could be. His farewell address wasn’t a speech—it was a prayer, a call to set aside petty differences, to rise above rivalry, and to remember that what binds us together is far stronger than what pulls us apart. He did not ask for obedience; he asked for wisdom.
Alexander Hamilton, the driven and practical builder of the family’s future, believed that love meant action. He laid down strong foundations, created institutions, and strove to ensure the family had what it needed to survive and flourish. His patriotism was ambitious: he wanted the best for America, not just in ideals but in strength. Like a father who teaches his children the value of discipline, Hamilton loved his country enough to build something that could last beyond his own lifetime.
Thomas Jefferson dreamed of liberty like a father who wants his children to grow up under a wide-open sky. He feared too many rules, too much control, believing that the greatest gift he could give his country was the freedom to think, speak, and live as they chose. He and Hamilton often clashed—but only because they both loved the same child in different ways. And in that tension, a deeper truth emerged: patriotism doesn’t require uniformity; it thrives in principled disagreement.
The philosopher, diplomat, and storyteller, Benjamin Franklin, was like the grandfather at the head of the table, eyes twinkling with wisdom. He had seen the world, seen its flaws and its beauty, and believed that this American experiment was something sacred. His love wasn’t loud. It was steady. He knew that America, as a place of reason and compassion, might just inspire the world.
James Madison, the careful architect of the Constitution, knew that love wasn’t just passion; it was protection. He built the walls of the family’s home not to trap, but to shelter. He laid out the rules not to restrict, but to ensure that no voice—no child—would be drowned out by another. His patriotism was quiet but profound: a belief that with the right balance, even the most divided family could live together in peace.
These men did not love a perfect nation. They loved a nation becoming—a nation still wrestling with injustice, still learning how to live up to its own ideals. Like fathers, they knew their child would stumble. But they believed—fiercely—that it could rise.
Their patriotism wasn’t passive. It was active. Brave. Demanding. It meant calling the country to be better—not out of anger, but out of love. And today, as we walk the path they began, we inherit not just the freedoms they secured, but the responsibility they shouldered.
Patriotism, as they lived it, was not about declaring perfection; it was about doing the hard, hopeful work of making this country worthy of its promise. This is the legacy they left us and the love we are called to carry forward. Great leaders understand that the way we lead our communities is the way our nation goes. Unity, discipline, civility, compassion, and balance aren’t just lofty ideals; they are the basis for freedom and the Bison Way.