Two hundred forty-eight years ago, our Founding Fathers set us on the path towards forming a more perfect union. The Founders saw the world in which they lived and imagined a better one not yet in existence – a government where power resided with “we the people” to safeguard our God-given rights. It was a step toward the idea of freedom for all, even though it took the Civil War and civil-rights movement to get here. Our Founders’ great experiment now stands proudly for freedom and liberty around the world. But it is threatened here at home.

While the surface might appear cynical, the undercurrent of the American story remains driven by hope.

In 1975, the Freedom Train rolled through Oakland, Calif.—about 15 miles from my home in Hayward—and changed how I thought about America.

If you’ve been paying even the slightest bit of attention, you know that the American Experiment took some gut punches over the last week.

Joe Biden – long considered the best hope for preventing another disastrous Donald Trump term – had a shockingly bad debate performance, looking and sounding every minute of his 81 years.

The Biden White House commended a University of North Carolina fraternity Friday for protecting an American flag during recent campus protests.

Members of the UNC Pi Kappa Phi chapter were photographed preventing an American flag from touching the ground amid attempts to replace it with a Palestinian flag.

The photos went viral, and a third-party-run GoFundMe raised more than $500,000 to throw the fraternity the “rager” party “they deserve” for protecting the flag.

Children, as I have rediscovered since having one of my own, love holidays. They also love feeling like they’re a part of things: teams, friend groups, families, schools, nations. And so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that my own 6-year-old has become a Fourth of July enjoyer, despite being born to leftist humanities types who are not shy about sharing all of the reasons not to feel especially proud of the United States.

On Independence Day, we celebrate ejecting an obnoxious government and replacing it with a less authoritarian regime somewhat constrained by the memory of its predecessor's fate. Treason is the reason for the season, after all! The resulting improvements were incomplete and not fully enjoyed by everybody (human creations are imperfect), but they were real gains, nevertheless. Roughly two and a half centuries on, how well is the American experiment protecting our liberty?

Nostalgia is usually an unproductive emotion. Our memories can deceive us, especially as we get older. But every so often, nostalgia can remind us of something important. As we celebrate another Fourth of July, I find myself wistful about the patriotism that was once common in America—and keenly aware of how much I miss it.

The Fourth of July is, nearly universally, a day of relaxed celebration and ritual, from enjoying grilled hot dogs, potato chips and ice cream — hey, it’s a special occasion! — to gathering with neighbors to watch fireworks. But for progressives like myself, the holiday’s star-spangled flag-waving and patriotic songs and speeches extolling America’s greatness can feel hokey or even hostile. In an increasingly polarized nation, overt declarations of national pride often morph into displays of aggressive nationalism tinged with xenophobia and jingoism.

I’m not sure when my sense of patriotism began slipping away. Maybe it was in college, when I was exposed to a more complicated version of American history than I had previously known. Or maybe it was later, as a journalist covering the protests of people who felt — legitimately, it often seemed to me — as though they had been shortchanged out of the American dream. Or maybe it was when I had the opportunity to travel to other parts of the world, where I met people who had access to things like free health care and who were baffled by the idea of American exceptionalism.