"Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like nobody's watching. Sing like nobody's listening.
Live like it's Heaven on Earth."
"Courage is as often the
outcome of despair as of hope;
in the one case we have nothing to lose, in
the other,
everything to gain."
~ Diane
de Pottiers
Ugly Americans? 4 July 2002
Just what is an American, anyway? Are we really ugly? And if
so, just
how ugly are we? How did we get that reputation, and is it
deserved?
These and other nagging questions came to me as MissSophieDog
and
I were making our early morning rounds. This has become our routine.
It serves us well. Early-morning solitude, peace and quiet has become
essential - the
contemplation of life, setting the tone for the new day on
a positive note,
if you please. Gratitude is the key, of course, no matter
what past demons may attempt to haunt us, no matter what future fears
may
attempt to plague us.
Okay. Gratitude. This is American Independence Day. The
Fourth of July. Thank you for this Independence Day, for a free country, for
freedom from tyranny, for freedom, period… And then the questions began to
flow. What
IS an American, what exactly IS freedom? Life, liberty, and the pursuit
of
happiness. Hmmmmm…
Well, I could write a book. And, of course, tomes – volumes,
actually –
have already been written. But let’s give it some thought anyway.
Let’s
consider it in honor of our forefathers, and in honor of the hundreds
of
thousands of lives laid down in the name of freedom. And in honor of
those (perhaps even someone near and dear to you) whose lives are on
the
line this very instant protecting and defending our country and our
way of
life. Our cherished freedom, without which we would have
precious little.
What is an American? What a ridiculously impossible question. The fact
of our
immense diversity precludes a simple answer. With the possible
exception of
Native Americans, none of our ancestors is actually native
to this
portion
of the North American continent. (I say possible exception because,
when you
stop to think about it, everyone came from some-
where, did they
not?) We are
red and yellow,
black and white (isn’t that
a Stevie Wonder
song?). Navajo,
Aztec, Negro, Caucasian, Oriental.
We are Jews, Arabs,
Catholics,
Protestants, Hindus, Buddhists, agnostics, atheists, heathens.
Saints and
sinners. Staunch conservatives and fervent
liberals. We are
everything from
ridiculously impoverished to grossly
affluent. Heterosexual, homosexual,
bisexual, asexual…
The list goes on and on and on. The diversity is so great,
even in a com- paratively small geographical area such as Louisiana (from
whence I write),
as to defy categorization. New Orleans and Shreveport are
about as much
alike as night and day. The same could be said of New Iberia
and Monroe.
Worlds apart. If I cannot answer the question “What is a
Louisianan?” how
in the world can I even begin to answer, “What is
an
American?”
I cannot.
Next question. Are we ugly? And if so, just how ugly are we?
And how
did we get that reputation? My, my, my, here is a touchy subject.
Let us
tackle it anyway. In certain realms we are seen as incredibly naïve,
loud,
totally lacking in cultural refinement, tasteless, uneducated,
pompous,
arrogant, insensitive, and downright uncivilized. Mon Dieu! What
can I
say? There
can be no doubt that some of us earned this reputation
quite
justifiably by our behavior abroad.
Case in point: The mother of a college friend came to visit
us in Germany
in the early 1970s. Very fine Southern lady (this means her
manners were excellent, okay?), intelligent, well-educated, delightful. But
I just gotta tell
ya, she acted like a complete idiot in Mainz. Embarrassed
me no end.
Why? Because she was too loud, because all she wanted to do was
shop
(as in Spend Money). Everywhere we went, she asked me, stridently,
“How
much is this is real money, honey?”
Well. I let it ride the
first couple
of times, and then I could no longer
restrain myself.
“Mrs.
American (name changed to protect the insipid), please remember
that the
Deutschmark IS
real money.
It is not Monopoly money, okay.
It is the
currency of this country. It is not fake money, it is simply
different. You
can pretend that
one Mark is about a quarter or so (those
were the good ole
days) if that
will help. But, please. Do not insult the
citizenry of your
host country by
implying that their money is something
to be laughed at, and
by further
implying that the almighty U.S. dollar
is the only genuine
currency in the
Universe.”
“Well, dahlin’, I do declare, I certainly did
not mean to hurt
anyone’s
feelin's, (pouting) it’s just that it doesn’t look
real to me…” Etc.
You get the picture. And I did NOT make this up. Do we
have a mono-
poly on this sort of thoughtless behavior? Not bloody likely.
Consider this, if you will: Germany again, early 1990s.
Party in progress,
hosted by Germans, revelers mostly Germans, with the
occasional token American, Frenchman, and Brit thrown in. This scenario is typical
of what
I had experienced on a number of different occasions, but this time
I was prepared. At long last, I had answers for the almost inevitable
questions (translated from the German):
“Are you an American?”
“Why, yes, I am. Thank you! How kind of you to notice!”
“Well, good, because I have a few questions for you…”
(Deep breath, smiling sweetly.) “Really? How can I help you?”
“Why can’t you learn how to cook over there? The food is awful!”
“And just what food are you referring to, sir?”
“You know. AMERican food. That fast-food junk.”
“You mean like hamburgers?”
“Exactly!”
“Well, I suppose you had best take that up with your countrymen in
Hamburg,
sir, since…”
“Ja, ja, ja, I figured you would try to act schmart about it. You know
what
I
mean!”
“Well, let me see. Hot dogs. then. Which of course are actually sausages: Frankfurters
or Wieners. But then of course you
would have the populace
of Frankfurt or Vienna to blame… How about pizza? (He is getting red in
the
face now and clenching his fists.) Nein?
Well then, perhaps you did
not care
for our steaks…”
“Okay, okay, okay, just forget about the food. You Americans are so
very barbaric! First of all, you drove the poor Indians off of their land,
you
took from them what was rightfully theirs…”
“Well, I suppose perhaps that might have something to with the fact that
Europe does have an ancient history of barbarianism…”
“EUROPE?!?!? What do you mean??? What Europe? Your brain must
be kaputt!! We are
schpeaking of Americans here…”
“But of course. And everyone knows that it was Europeans who
migrated, who
settled the New World, do they not?”
“Well, what about the criminals? What about the Mafia? No one is safe
on
the
streets in America! We would never put up with such behavior!
Germany is the most civilized country in the world!”
“Gee, I’ve not had that experience. Yours in a most interesting perspec-
tive,
sir. How long did you live in the United States?”
“LIVE in the United States? Ich? Now I KNOW your brain is kaputt!”
(Silly
grin, nudging
his companion in the ribs as if to say, “Can you
believe this bimbo thinks I
would be stupid enough to LIVE in the
United States!”)
“Well, obviously you must have lived there a very long time, indeed,
to be
such an expert. How else could you possibly have come by
such a wealth
of invaluable information about the USA and its more
than 200 million
inhabitants…”
Glub, glub, “Well,” cough, cough, “I’ll have you know that in 1987 I
vacationed in America for three weeks! And not only that, but my
wife’s
cousin’s next-door neighbor used to be married to an
American! THAT’S
how I
know!”
“Ah, yes. By all means, sir. I understand. You are indeed an expert.
Everyone here can surely see that. Please excuse me, now. I need
to refresh my
drink…” Smiling all the while, with only a smidgen of
eye-rolling. There
are smirks and chuckles all over the room, and
Herr Bozo tries to make
himself invisible.
And I am thinking, “Are we badasses? You bet yourBratwurst we
are, Herr Bozo. We are pioneers. And proud of it!”
Let’s face it. Neither the Americans nor the Germans (nor the
French,
nor
the you-name-its) have a monopoly on rudeness,
narrow-mindedness,
or pomposity. Not even on stupidity. Those attributes
seem to pop up
everywhere. God help us all...
So. We Americans are often considered gaudy, brash and rowdy,
if not
actually brutal. Not altogether untrue. No doubt some of us have
behaved
deplorably in virtually every country on the planet. Then again,
countless
thousands of us have shed our blood in those very same countries
fighting
wars not of our own choosing. We are idealists, romantics, generous
to a
fault. We are creative (a byproduct of this freedom we enjoy),
innovative,
resourceful, enthusiastic, optimistic, confident, doggedly
determined. How
else, pray tell, could the West have been won? We do not go
quietly.
Do we have problems in these United States of America? Damn
straight
we do. Is there crime in the streets, is there poverty, are there
still ghettos?
Does so-called white-collar crime appear to be on the rise?
Do fraudulent
business practices seem to haunt us of late? Has our
international reputation
taken an unprecedented nosedive? None of that can
be denied. I do not
applaud these regrettable facts; I simply
trust that we will continue working
to find viable
solutions. We will not give up. We SHALL overcome!
Brutal, barbaric? Geez, how could that be? Our heritage is
sooooo refined.
We would not dream of sticking our primitive necks out,
would we now?
The simple fact is we are a nation of rebels. Our forefathers
staged, fought,
and won a revolutionary war. We do not denounce that; we
celebrate it.
Today, in fact. We do not take a lot of flak from anyone, nor
do we suffer
fools gladly. We are the embodiment of the “I’m madder than
hell and I’m
not going to take it anymore,” mentality.
Our forefathers did not board sailing vessels and head across the Atlantic
Ocean toward the unknown because they were bored. They were discon-
tent with the status quo. Discontent enough to take action. They sought a
new way of life, against all odds. They were totally DISsatisfied, and they
had gumption enough to do something about it. They decided not to take
it
anymore. By and large, they sought
freedom. It is ours to protect and
defend. We are reminded today, once again, that freedom is not free.
The gift of freedom carries with it a tremendous weight of
responsibility.
The more freedom we enjoy, the more responsibility we have
to give
serious thought to our actions, knowing that it is we who will
ultimately
be held accountable for our choices. Chew on that for awhile, if
you will.
In addition to the other ruminations that occupied me today,
I deliberated
on what might be considered the quintessential American metaphor. Finally
came up with
the cowboy. Intrepid and fiercely independent. Rugged, just
like this
magnificent country we call home. Audacious, plucky. A little
rough around
the edges, perhaps, but a jewel nonetheless.
You’ll forgive me if I do not include any recipes in today’s
offering. Food
has not been uppermost in my mind, although I did manage to
put quite a delicious
'barbecued' brisket on the table, along with a huge bowl of
potato salad. American potato salad, by God!
Somehow I never did get around
to the
chocolate cake. But I did decide on
Cowboy Cuisine for today’s
Surprise.
What else?
Be well, stay safe,
enjoy your freedom. Count your blessings. Write
your congressman.
And until next time,
remember,
“What a
tiresome place America would be if freedom meant we all had
to
think alike
or be the same color or wear that same gray flannel suit!
That road leads to
the conformity of the graveyard . . . .”
~
John Oliver
Killens
Michele
"It
seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love,
are so
mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think
of one without
the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I
am really writing about
love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the
love
of it and the hunger for it…
and then the warmth and richness and
fine reality of hunger satisfied… and it
is all one." ~ M.F.K. Fisher, The Art of Eating
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