I was proud to be an American. Just don't tell Sarah Palin.

Living close to our nation's capital never gets old for me. Well, maybe when I was on the 18th semi-historical place where Abraham Lincoln stroked his beard, then it got old. But the symbolism of D.C. still catches me off guard sometimes.

As I was waiting for a Whitworth alumni event with a friend in the city, we walked across Lafayette Square to the "little" side of the White House. For those not familiar with the view, it's the opposite side from what's usually considered the money shot. Gathered in front of the gate, about 150 or so people were engaged in a protest/rally supporting the protests in Egypt. Now in full disclosure, I've always been of the mindset that a person of a foreign country can never really understand the true emotions, motivations, or unrest that leads to such powerful organization against someone else's government/leaders. Nor do I think media coverage of such events is anywhere close to balanced, in either direction. No matter how hard you try as a writer or photographer, you end up choosing a bad guy.

But the reports poured in of internet censorship, government force, and worldwide consequences for foreign relations and economies, I couldn't help but be proud of the sight in front of me. Police quietly blockading traffic from interfering with the demonstration. A bystander clapping along to the English/Arabic chants. A mother taking a family photo of four generations in front of the crowd, her small children clothed in their native flag. And all in the shadow, shouting distance, of our President's home and office. I don't get on the "let's cover our monster trucks in stars and stripes" train very often. But I'd rather wade through the noise of opposition and political dissent, however antagonizing and sometimes downright crazy it is, than take a pair of government-controlled waders to make the job "easier."