"In 1948, I returned to France at the invitation of French Government. It was still a war-ravaged country ... but this time there was something
different. It wasn't the absence of fighting, nor the silence of the big guns, nor the disappearance of uniforms and chow lines ... I didn't know what it
was until one morning when I was taken to the grounds of a small French school. The children had been assembled in the play yard. They were
grouped close together and arranged in wobbly little rows, their dark heads bobbing around like flower buds on long stems. One of the teachers rapped
for silence. The kids quieted immediately and turned their eyes towards her. Their Faces were scrubbed and bright in the sunshine. The teacher
raised her arms, and for a moment, there was no sound ... Then the teacher brought her arms down and the kids began to sing ... I Knew why I
felt at home. The spirit of freedom was hovering over that play yard as it did all over France at that time. A country was free again. A people had
recovered their independence and their children were grateful. They were singing in French, but the melody was freedom and any American could
understand that. America, at that moment, never meant more to me ... The true meaning of America, you ask? It's in a Texas rodeo, in a policeman's
badge, in the sound of laughing children, in a political rally, in a newspaper... In all these things, and many more, you'll find America. In all
these things, you'll find freedom. And freedom is what America means to the world. And to me."