Purple State, USA

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

I was recently reminded of some challenging circumstances I faced early in my life. Nothing scandalous--at least not to most--but certainly also not among my proudest moments. I have empathy for the girl who walked the road she did and I believe she has turned that road into something good. 

There are people, though, who want to define us by our failures, our mistakes, our weaknesses. No matter how far beyond them--above them--we eventually lift ourselves, there are people who want to pull us back. They confuse our willingness to admit our mistakes as an admission that we are no better than however those lapses in judgment might paint us. As imperfection isn't an accusation many of us can refute, it can be difficult to see beyond those distorted views.

I have a picture in my mind of this country. A country that is a living, breathing organism. To be precise... A country with over 300 million simultaneous breaths, views, strengths and weaknesses. I can zero in on specific faces of this country--some that make me smile, others that make me angry; some that make me laugh, others that bring a tear to my eye; some I could do without, others I fall to my knees in gratitude for.

There are people among us and watching us from a distance who want to define this country by its mistakes. It's hard not to let them. We have certainly made our share. Besides specific instances--slavery, WWII internment camps, Abu Ghraib (just to name a few)--we as individuals and as a nation have also been guilty of bigotry, violence and--perhaps most unforgivably--ignorance.

It's important, however, that we remember a single snapshot does not a video make. Likewise, a single moment in time can seldom tell the story or assess the value of any entity's contribution to this world. I have watched our country be the first in line to help countries besieged by natural disasters or invaded by hostile neighbors. I have seen it strive to solve problems so complex other countries won't touch them--then be criticized for not handling it perfectly. I have seen it criticized for action, when no one can guess what inaction would have cost. I have seen our country open its doors for those needing medical treatment, a place of refuge or simply a new home. I have seen our country pull its neglected, abused and homeless children close, striving to set them on a better path. And, for all of this, I have seen it ask very little in return.

No, we can't get every moment right, we can't help everyone, we can't commit all our resources to every cause and every country... but why does that negate the good that has been done? We have cause to be  confident--not arrogant or cocky--, to be proud. We have good reason not to sit silently when confronted by those who judge us only by our mistakes.

As a person and as people who have absolutely no promise of ever being perfect... I can only hope that history will judge us not so much by the times we stumbled as by how we picked ourselves back up; not so much by our mistakes as by our accomplishments; and not so much for how we could have been better as by how we did do better.

I look at this country and I know we are wiser for the journey; stronger for it. That is something we should be very proud of, even as we continue to acknowledge and attempt to right any wrongs we've committed along the way.

14 Years Ago Today.

It was 1995. I would have just turned 16. And I was in the hospital surrounded by nurses and doctors struggling to save my life. I remember drifting in and out of consciousness. Confused. I remember my dad being there. I remember regretting that he was having to deal with this the day before his birthday.

It is 2009. I just turned 30. I now have ample evidence of just how much that 16-year-old would have missed had those doctors and nurses failed. I am grateful. I can see them in my mind... the experiences and people and lessons that have colored the last 14 years. I am so freaking grateful.

How does that relate to this blog? Well, I'll tell you. That day started a chain of events that ultimately led to my being placed in foster care the following spring. And, from there, doors did not close, they opened. Maybe some required brute force supplied by yours truly, perhaps other individuals would not have turned that road into what I did--I don't take away from myself the role I played--but it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge the opportunities I had as a result of the city, state and country I live in.

The origin of my bias toward this whole United States thing? I'll reveal it to you here... When I had nothing else, I had a government that stepped in and gave me what I needed (and made me crazy enough to make me never want to need them to again lol).

So now you know. Why I am so grateful. And why this country means so much to me. For a short but crucial time, it stepped in as my family--fed me, clothed me, guided me. I count that as a blessing. There are other countries in which I would not have been as fortunate.

We pay too many taxes. But next time you look at that paycheck stub and cringe at all the money you never get to see directly... think of me. And know that I am grateful. And that I strive daily to build a life worth any extra trouble it may have caused along the way.

What if citizenship wasn't automatic?

Could you keep your citizenship if someone knocked on your door right now and said you had to know what every new immigrant being sworn in as an American citizen has to know?

A challenge for you this week... Take the U.S. Citizenship test and see how you do (yes, we can all Google the answers, but try it without all your digital tools the first time ;)). Be honest--humble if necessary--and let us know how you do.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25461301/

For the sake of discussion, do you think our country (or any country) might be better off if continuing to keep one's citizenship beyond their 18th birthday required them to pass this test, maybe not once, but every six or so years? What if citizenship--like driving--wasn't a right but a privilege we had to continue to prove our ability to responsibly manage? Might we care more? Want it more? Take care of it better? Or would it make no difference?

The Myth of Robin Hood

The legendary story of Robin Hood is that of a man who stole from an authoritarian government money and items of value it had taken from its people. He then gave it back to those it rightfully belonged to. His actions, given the situation, are admirable. What I find unfortunate is that the story has lost context in the minds of many and simply been translated to: the rich are bad and corrupt, while the poor are good and more deserving.

I've been without money. I can remember counting pennies to buy a bag of Cheetos as my food for the day, washing my hair in fast food restaurant sinks and reading at Barnes & Noble until it closed at 11 PM on hot, summer nights so that the car I was sleeping in would have an opportunity to cool off at least enough to be bearable. I can remember sleeping in the driver's seat, keys in the ignition and utility knife in hand--just in case the wrong person might wake me up--on those nights so sweltering I had to leave the windows down.

Some have mistakenly assumed that my own history might lead me to accept the more generalized summary of Robin Hood. It does not.

You see, we don't live in an authoritarian state. We live in a land of tremendous opportunity. People often believe these to be pretty words for patriotic songs--but I have seen it with my own eyes. As a foster child and senior in high school, I sat in a classroom of my peers and watched them all ignore a man talking to us about an opportunity to try whatever career we might have an interest in, regardless of experience level. They ignored him. I walked up afterward and spoke to him, finding my first job in the IT industry and my way around the fact I couldn't afford college at that time.

I think of those peers whenever anyone tries to tell me that I somehow owe more to them because I make more. I think, "Why?" They were sitting there too. Why do the choices I made--the hard work, the long nights I made through with sheer will, fueled by no incentive but my hunger to be better--mean that I owe anyone anything? Why does it mean anyone with a similar story owes anything to those who simply chose a different road?

We've talked about the slippery slope of America before. I believe it is essential to a civilized society to treat each other with dignity and respect. I believe that we have a moral responsibility to take care of those who cannot take care of themselves. I also believe if someone has consciously decided that they don't want to do that--don't want to work or re-train themselves for a job more in demand, that if they have decided they would rather do nothing--then there the burden on the rest of us should end. No where in any document on which this country was founded does it say it is our job to take care of those who are simply too lazy or unmotivated to take care of themselves.

I have kept an open mind about the health care bill, but when a friend told me about a version that suggests we all pay a portion of our yearly income as premiums I almost choked on such a socialistic notion. Yet it occurs to me that my choking may be a bit late... After all, aren't we already doing that with income taxes? Our government certainly needs money to undertake all that we task it with... but is there truly no better way than by punishing the most prosperous--and often also the most innovative and productive--among us?

Something to Think About.

"America isn't easy. America is advanced citizenship. You've gotta want it bad, 'cause it's gonna put up a fight. It's gonna say, 'You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours.'

"You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country cannot just be a flag. The symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Now show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then you can stand up and sing about the land of the free."

-Excerpt from the 1995 movie, The American President

Communication

I was forwarded a quote by Marcus Aurelius this past week. I thought it was an excellent statement on the virtues of discussion: "If anyone can show me, and prove to me, that I am wrong in thought or deed, I will gladly change. I seek the truth, which has never yet hurt anybody. It is only persistence in self-delusion and ignorance which does harm."

I suffered a serious communication failure this past week and it is a wound I am still confounded by, trying to figure out how it might have been avoided; wondering if it's simply an indication that I was wrong to attempt the conversation to begin with. I have read emails from some of you stating that you don't like talking to people about your individual convictions because it is simply too difficult.

Marcus' statement, however, is a great reminder of the virtues and purpose of discussion, which is to have the opportunity to open our eyes to another's view of the world--if only for a moment and even if we don't always agree. Anyone willing to show up and have an honest conversation deserves credit for the attempt. Sometimes our efforts are going to blow up in our faces, but what we gain by reaching outside our normal comfort zone often far outweighs any pain. Something I have been personally reminded of this week.

Sonja. I give you so much credit for being willing to show up for what was--no question--an unorthodox discussion. You are twenty kinds of cool. And all I think today is that the gods better take good care of you wherever you go in life. We are all better off for the fact you are here.

We Remember.

I remember it was the morning of my 22nd birthday when goofy Brett--my fellow software developer at the engineering company we worked at--popped over the cubicle wall to tell me a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I was dismissive at the time, thinking it was some stupid private pilot of a small Cessna. It wasn't ten minutes later, though, that I was walking back from the CIO's office and I saw a bunch of people gathered around the only TV on the floor. As I glanced over simply out of habit, I was brought to a halt by the image of two burning buildings. And the sound of someone saying, "And they say the Pentagon was hit too."

Understand that by the time I was 22, I had benefited greatly from the protection and the opportunities being an American citizen had given me. I was proud to be an American. But, looking back, I was also awfully naive. More naive than I knew before the moment those images burned themselves into my mind.

It wasn't long after the buildings fell that the company said we could all leave early, go be with our families, sit and cry, do whatever we needed to do to cope.

I walked out alone, having had little emotional reaction up to that point. As I crossed in front of the building, headed toward the parking lot, I looked up and noticed that someone had already moved the flag to half-staff. And that's when I cried. Because before that moment, as much as I thought I had loved that flag and honored that flag, I--at 22--had no real life knowledge of what that flag really stood for. And I was only beginning to realize the challenges that lay ahead.

On this morning, we can count the lives lost in those fiery explosions, we can look thankfully at our civil servants who sacrificed themselves, we can reflect proudly on the heroics of the doomed citizens on Flight 93, and we should remember that our military has carried the cross of that day for the past eight years... I hate that it happened. It can bring a tear to my eye, even on this day, so far from that initial moment. But I am also grateful to have received the wake-up call. I hope that we can remember not just the tragedy but the blessings on this day as well. We learned we had weaknesses, but we also realized we were stronger than most of us may have realized prior to that moment.

This thing called America is so much deeper than any building anyone who hates us can blow up or tear down. And it has come so much farther than even our forefathers would have imagined. We have so very much to be proud of and thankful for.

I only heard this song in the past year, but it's a great reflection. It's called Where Were You, by Alan Jackson. Read it and tell us how your life was (or wasn't) altered on Sept 11, 2001.

"Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Out in the yard with your wife and children;
Working on some stage in LA?
Did you stand there in shock at the site of
That black smoke rising against that blue sky?
Did you shout out in anger;
In fear for your neighbor;
Or did you just sit down and cry?

Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know?
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below?

Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue;
The heroes who died just doing what they do?
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters?

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Teaching a class full of innocent children?
Driving down some cold interstate?
Did you feel guilty cause you're a survivor;
In a crowded room did you feel alone?
Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her?
Did you dust off that bible at home?
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened;
Close your eyes and not go to sleep?
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages;
Speak with some stranger on the street?
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow;
Go out and buy you a gun?
Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watching
And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns?
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some stranger;
Stand in line and give your own blood?
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family;
Thank God you had somebody to love?

I'm just a singer of simple songs,
I'm not a real political man.
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran.
But I know Jesus and I talk to God,
And I remember this from when I was young--
Faith, hope, and love are some good things He gave us,
And the greatest is love."

July 4, 1776

Some of my all-time favorite men died well before I or any of my recent ancestors were born. As you might expect, given the title of this blog, those men were the ones who collaborated and architected the Declaration of Independence, the ones who so boldly lent their signatures to its rebellious text at risk of being charged with treason. I wonder at what these, some of my favorite men, would make of our country today. I wonder if they wouldn't also grapple with the same issues we do.

The book, the blog, so much of our news media, the world, us as not-so-arrogant-as-they-think Americans sometimes seem to be focused primarily on what has gone wrong in this story of America. Those things--at least where we strive to better ourselves--certainly do warrant discussion; however today, in honor of our 233rd birthday, how about we take a moment to list what the United States and its people have done right--whether it be on a personal, national or international level--since the signing of the document that first made known to our ancestors and to the world our intention to be a free people?

If you need some help getting in the right frame of mind, you might consider starting here.

I hope you all have a safe and relaxing 4th of July, filled with cookouts, fireworks, a little Johnny Mellencamp, Bruce Springsteen, a cold beer or whatever else will make your day great. And I hope, as you are watching your kid run around with a sparkler (not safe, btw), staring up at an explosion of color in the night sky, or if you just happen to glance at an American flag flying off yours or another's front porch... that you might stop for a moment to sincerely thank whichever God you pray to for the fact this is the country we are fortunate enough to call home.

-Juli