BRANSON, MO. -- Perhaps this curious community is, as it claims, the Patriotism Capital of America.

Perhaps it is, as one visitor recently suggested, "Where Walt Disney came to throw up."

This Labour Day weekend, Branson is a bit of both, with Route 76 bumper to bumper and the neon bright as the noonday sun. The only relief from the late-summer swelter is found in the air-conditioned theatres that offer up every act you thought long since dead: Bobby Vinton, Glen Campbell, Andy Williams, the Osmond Brothers, even Lawrence Welk, who is in fact, quite dead, but gets to live on forever courtesy of this patriots' heaven.

The glitz is second only to Disney World; so, too, is attendance -- seven million a year coming to this little Missouri town of 6,000 -- but the theme, especially this past year, is pure Branson and comparable to nowhere else on earth.

Wall-to-wall God Bless America.

You can catch Magnificent America, the morning show at the White House Theatre, Mike Radford's "comedy, music and patriotism" show, or tour the Oval Office and Air Force One replicas at the American Presidential Museum.

The two most popular year-round acts in Branson are a Japanese violinist and a Russian comedian, yet both Shoji Tabuchi and Yakov Smirnoff wrap themselves and their shows in the Stars and Stripes. Mr. Smirnoff will even say that the greatest thing about living in Branson is the community's "values," which he endorses daily.

It is, in fact, almost freakily friendly, a place where everyone speaks to everyone they meet. A cynic might point out they are all white, elderly and likely Republican, but it would take a hard heart indeed to snub a dozen grandmothers in a row wishing you a good day with a smile.
The highlight this particular weekend is a PBS taping of Lawrence Welk's God Bless America. Mr. Welk died 10 years ago, but the Champagne Theatre is packed for all three performances, the age of the audience measured by the fact that the line for the men's washroom moves as slowly as the women's. Many of them come to cheer all three sessions, especially so at the sight of any of the old cast members of the show ABC first tried to kill off in 1971. The Lennon Sisters are still lovely, others slightly moulting and often limping, yet the mere sight of a Norma Zimmer or Dick Dale or Myron Floren or Ralna English will bring them to their feet.

"We love you, Joe!" someone calls out as Joe Feeney misses his song cue.

If they love the show, however, they worship the theme. To the music of Gershwin, George M. Cohan, Glenn Miller and the like, they march through the First World War, the Second World War, Korea, Vietnam and the Persian Gulf, each musical number a step closer to the climax everyone is expecting and quite wanting: Sept. 11.

"A country attacked at home, assaulted by the deadliest of enemies -- an enemy with no regard for life -- not even their own."

But America, they promise, will rise from the ashes -- "She will never be destroyed -- nor her heroes be forgotten."

Then into the rousing double finale: first Amazing Grace;then, of course, God Bless America.

However, the ending is not the most emotional moment. That comes as the veterans are saluted, many of them openly sobbing as they rise to their feet, some having to be helped up by weeping family members. The entire crowd then stands to recite the Oath of Allegiance, each with a hand over the heart, many with more than a tear in the eye.

For a Canadian fearing a hundred canes coming down upon the head, it is impossible to do anything but stand and trust that no one notices he does not speak along. It is a life task being neighbour to such emotional force, most Canadians forever vacillating between being put off by such open display or wanting, as happened a year ago, to join in.

One year later, we can only watch, partly in support, partly in wonder, entirely in fascination.

Navy veteran James Driessens wears a new T-shirt -- "Spirit of America Never Die!!! 9.11.2001" -- as he and his wife, Carole, exit the Champagne Theatre. The show, he says, was "fantastic."

Mrs. Driessens says that, if any, the lesson from Sept. 11 is that "We can't just sit back and be this nice nation all the time. We've been far too nice in the past."

The crowd is pushing through, the well helping the infirm, everyone endlessly polite. The Driessens excuse themselves to get to their car and head, eventually, home to the Quad Cities, Moline, East Moline, Rock Island and Davenport.

But first, Mrs. Driessens turns and smiles, out of habit.

"You have a nice day now."