Around 7:00 a.m. today, I woke up to the strains of “The Star Spangled Banner” . . . and I thought I was going crazy until I realized it was all in my mind.

As the fog of sleep cleared from my head, I recalled that I had been dreaming of being at some sort of performance in a huge venue where someone began tentatively singing the first lines of America’s National Anthem. Others in the crowd — myself included — joined in, until the person in charge of the program tried to silence us. But we kept singing, louder and stronger, defiantly hitting that impossible high note on the word “free.”

And I recall the overwhelming feeling of joy and pride as the moderator gave up the fight to silence us.

That was just a dream, most likely precipitated by my obsessive immersion in the daily news. But it reminded me of a real event more than 30 years ago in Moscow. (Yes, that Moscow — the one in Russia.) It was July 4, 1993, and I had two tickets to a performance being given by a troupe of American Broadway performers at the historic Estrada Theater. By chance, an American friend was visiting that week, and she was my “plus one” for the evening.

As the performance began to a packed hall, the orchestra struck up the Russian National Anthem, and the crowd respectfully stood up, as was expected. And then we heard The Star Spangled Banner being played — in Moscow — less than two years after the fall of the Soviet Union. Again, everyone stood. But this time, there was singing.

There was a surprisingly large contingent of Americans in the crowd — the U.S. Ambassador and members of the embassy staff, business representatives, and a number of short-term expatriates like myself. And hearing our anthem, in that setting, stirred something in us that I had never experienced before . . . or since. It was pride: the simple pride of being an American — an American from “the land of the free, and the home of the brave.”

I want that feeling back. I had it briefly this morning, in my dream. But I want it back for real. I want the horror show in Washington to end, and the real America to re-emerge. And until that day, I will keep my dream — and that evening in Moscow — alive in my head and heart.

Because, as bad as things are right now, I believe that this, too, shall pass.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/17/26