The United States has been very good to me. I moved here with my family 20 years ago, when I was 9. Since then, I’ve gone to college and graduate school, I’ve met and married the love of my life, and I’ve experienced all kinds of freedoms that most people here are lucky enough to be able to take for granted.

The Constitution has always protected me. I’ve been able to say what I’ve wished to say and worship as I’ve wished to worship (if at all). I’ve been a member of the press, and I’ve never felt the heavy hand of government censorship separate me from a story. The list goes on, and yet, unless you count taxes, this country has never once asked anything of me in return. I don’t have to enlist in the military or cater to the whims of a dictator. I don’t even have to pretend to like or approve of anything our government says or does. In fact, the First Amendment to this great document ensures my right to “petition government for a redress of grievances” if I so choose.

This has been an emotional week for me. I’ve bounced back and forth between exhilaration at the thought of finally being an American and a feeling of mourning for the Canadian citizenship I’ve now given up. I have to admit: There were moments when I had to fight off the urge to go north of the border and stock up on ketchup-flavored potato chips and poutine—neither of which I even eat. I just had this irrational fear that these childhood favorites might no longer be available to me—that I might be seen as a traitor.

Of course, this will never happen because Canada, like America, is a free country. And now that the ceremony is over, I harbor no regrets. I love the nation where I was born as much as I love the United States. I am proud to call both of these places home.

The Ceremony:

The ceremony I attended took place at Boston’s Faneuil Hall. I couldn’t think of a more appropriate venue: It was there that Samuel Adams and others planned important actions that would help America attain its freedom from Great Britain.

All across America, hundreds of thousands of new citizens take the Oath of Allegiance each year. We, like President Barack Obama and the 535 members of Congress, can vote and run for public office. We can make a difference and enact change. And in exchange, if our country needs our help, we have pledged to give it willingly and without reservation. Here is the full text of the Oath:

I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the armed forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.

I take these words seriously. If it is my right to vote or my freedom to speak my mind, then it is my duty to help my fellow citizens. And if I morally or ethically object to any of these responsibilities, then it is my right, my freedom and my duty to work within the laws of the land and petition the government to change things for the better.

It’s good to be an American.

Following the Oath of Allegiance, we each stood to represent our nations of origin as they were called. As the judge pointed out: While we were all Americans that day, America would not call for us to turn our backs on who we were.

I’ve learned several surprising things in the two days since asking, “What’s so appealing about Twitter?” Among them:

1. Lots of celebrities use Twitter and if you follow enough of them, some will eventually start following you back. This is the case with Yoko Ono, who not only supposedly reads my Tweets now but who has also sent me a direct message via the site. Now, I’m almost positive she uses a third-party site to auto-contact all of her followers–but she also sent along another, more special note just for me. Being the huge Beatles fan that I am, the experience of hearing from John Lennon’s widow has left me feeling a little star-struck. I’ll admit I’m a little embarrassed by that.
   If you’re interested, you can search the Web for reliable lists of celebrity Twitterers, but some of my favorites are Shaquille O’Neal, Virgin Group Chairman Richard Branson and, of course, the truly amazing John Cleese.
2. Experienced Twitterers can come up with really clever ways to say a lot while staying within the meager 140-character limit. That might not sound too impressive to some of you social-networking veterans who have mastered succinctness in your status messages, but if you’re a journalist, you’ll understand that brevity–effective brevity–is nothing less than a fine art. There is a reason they call it “the soul of wit.” Twitter even has awards for the best “short content” creators.
   There are, of course, some Twitterers who haven’t fully embraced the concept of brevity just yet. If 140 characters isn’t enough for them, they’ll just continue their message in a second, third, fourth or even fifth post. Yes, I’m looking at you, Dr. Drew.
3. Congress Tweets. And texts. And chats. And… does pretty much everything with their phones except take notes on important events? Here’s an excerpt from the The Washington Post‘s article on what, exactly, our leaders were doing during President Barack Obama’s address to Congress last night:

President Obama spoke of economic calamity and war last night in that solemn rite of democracy, the address to the joint session of Congress. And lawmakers watched him with the dignity Americans have come to expect of their leaders: They whipped out their BlackBerrys and began sending text messages like high school kids bored in math class.

“One doesn’t want to sound snarky, but it is nice not to see Cheney up there,” Rep. Earl Blumenauer (D-Ore.) announced as Obama entered the chamber.

“I did big wooohoo for Justice Ginsberg,” Sen. Claire McCaskill (D-Mo.) broadcast, misspelling the name of the ailing Supreme Court justice. McCaskill could be seen applauding with BlackBerry in one hand.

“Capt Sully is here — awesome!” announced Rep. John Culberson (R-Tex.), spotting the US Airways pilot in the gallery.

Then there was Rep. Joe Barton (R-Tex.), in whose name this text message was sent at about the time the president spoke of the need to pull the country together: “Aggie basketball game is about to start on espn2 for those of you that aren’t going to bother watching pelosi smirk for the next hour.” A few minutes later, another message came through: “Disregard that last Tweet from a staffer.”

Wow. Seriously? My students pay far better attention in class! And as special as I think each and every one of their smiling faces happens to be, none of these students is ever going to have the effect on my taxes, bank account and general livelihood that Congress will.

Do we need to start confiscating their cell phones?