Two-stepping to a patriotic jig
Just let me take a step back for a moment to consider my roots.
Although its faults are many, its residents extremely varied, and both its present and history marked with violence, I love America.
I love America not for its government, not to for its war of terror, not for its imposition on cultures. I love America not for its shock and awe, not for its global ignorance, or for its military prowess.
I love America for its bare bones. I love America for the grassroots. Basically, I love America for its people.
People of all races, creeds, religions, ethnicities, and every other difference under the warm sun. Not that we don’t have our morons, thieves, and greed ridden criminals. This diversity is what creates the greatest beauty.
Out of chaos comes peace and out of America comes the greatest people I’ve ever met. Maybe it seems like I’m hypocritical of flip flopping like a politician but I’ve never doubted the ability of Americans. I’ve never doubted the ability to struggle from what seems hopeless and to come out stronger than ever.
Basically, I miss home. But I’m thankful for the amazing people from all the world that I’m meeting in Taiwan. However, I’m most blessed with the presence of intelligent, creative, open, honest, esoteric, stubborn, confident, and beautiful Americans.
Maybe it just says something about Americans who are willing to travel. To go out into the world with no clear plan. To out in search of anything without knowing whether you’ll find it or even caring. It’s that attitude that I not only relate to but also am thankful for.
When I do come home, I won’t come without gifts. I’ll come bearing lessons, stories, and a positive outlook. I’ll come with knowledge, motivation, and the smarts to back it up. I’ll come with love, hope, and an undying will to live. When I come home, I’ll bring the world back with me.
Your post reminded me of this great poem by Langston Hughes. I hope you are well and I miss you a lot. Email or call me sometime please. Oh, here’s the poem:
Let America Be America Again
by Langston Hughes
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed–
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek–
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean–
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today–O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home–
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay–
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.
O, let America be America again–
The land that never has been yet–
And yet must be–the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine–the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME–
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose–
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath–
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain–
All, all the stretch of these great green states–
And make America again!
Heidi I miss you so much! You are such a beautiful writer and I love hearing about Taiwan through your voice! I am so happy you are having such an amazing experience but I also can’t wait to see you when you come home…Are you coming home? I hope so but you will do what is best for you.
I love the way you wrote this. I am anxious to hear about your experiences when you do finally come home. Love, Grandma