America 2

(a continuation on dichotomy and change in America)
 
I grew up in middle class suburbia, the embodiment of the dream for all Americans, white and not so white.  But in the fifties and sixties only white dreamers were invited to the American garden.  Even the great Willie Mays couldn’t break into the tony enclave of Hillsboro, which bordered San Mateo where I grew up.  Say hey Willie, thanks for the baseball thrills but you really don’t belong here.  The only black men that I ever saw were in service jobs or on TV playing someone in a service job.  We never saw Hispanics and most of the Asians we saw were gardeners, although Asians were beginning to make inroads.  Diversity has hit the middle class but just in time to see the middle class headed for the endangered species list.  Out here in Contra Costa County comfortable opulence lives a mere ten minute BMW ride away from crushing poverty; opulence remains comfortably oblivious to poverty.  We're poised at the edge of a social structure that we once looked down our comfortable noses at; the one we thought was relegated to the banana republics that we tsk, tsked.  Are we becoming banana republicans?

America is the country where “money talks and bullshit walks” yet bullshit is often the wellspring of money.  If you have your doubts take a peek at a television commercial for a miracle diet plan or Google Bernie Madoff; two glowing examples of BS raking in the dollars.  We covet riches and at the same time proclaim that money is the root of all evil and that greed is the cause of our national ills.  Alexis de Tocqueville observed, “As one digs deeper into the national character of the Americans, one sees that they have sought the value of everything in this world only in the answer to this single question: how much money will it bring in?”  In other words, “what’s in it for me.”  Yet amidst the greed and the selfishness we can be the most charitable people on Earth.  In America, “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” Darwinism exists, albeit uncomfortably at times, with the notion of giving a guy a second chance, a third chance, even a fourth.  When a disaster strikes somewhere Americans are quick to pull out the checkbook or show up at the disaster site with sleeves rolled up or food for the victims.

This baby boomer has seen a lot of change over nearly 60 years and it isn’t just the obvious technological booms like the evolution of the phone from a big, black, clunky rotary device to something you carry in your pocket: a device that can cause a traffic accident, that you can take a picture of the damage with and then use to pay off the repair bill.  The first car I knew was my dad’s Studebaker and just about every car on the road was some variation of Ford, GM or American Motors and nobody had any idea that the Japanese could build a car.  The staple American diet was meat and potatoes and when we ate fish it was cooked and there was no such thing as a “food police.”  You went out for drinks at a place that was dark and didn’t allow anyone under the age of 21, offered hard boiled eggs at the bar and the bottles behind that bar were labeled Fleischmann’s and Old Grand Dad; no froufrou Kettle One or Maker’s Mark.  The only “tini” was a MARtini and it was gin, a wave of vermouth and one olive.  Booze was hard, not designer.  Teachers were respected by parents, students and society and woe to the kid who pissed off the teacher.  God was an angry, old, white Christian guy who every good American believed in and who carried the government stamp of approval, by God.  It’s changed now and most of that change is good.  We’ve become a more accepting, better-rounded society.  On the other hand, along the way we’ve come to the conclusion that rudeness is justified by calling it assertiveness and some values that now seem quaint and archaic should never have gone the way of that clunky phone.  We’re a busy, stressed out bunch now and when we work we work scared, afraid that we might only last as long as our next mistake.  Does anyone work for a company for twenty years anymore?   

There are those of my generation and generations past who remember and yearn for the good old days.  Even Michael Moore in a recent article bemoaned the passing of the “good old days.”  But Mr. Moore and the truth are often estranged.  I remember one old timer who said of the “good old days”, “they never were.” That was my dad and he was right of course.  Every generation creates its mythological “good old days”.  I suppose my generation’s was the fifties.  You know the fifties?  That was when everyone lived in fear of the “Red menace” and nuclear holocaust and part of the grade school routine was ducking under your desk in a tuck when the air raid siren went off.  We later joked that the tuck was the ideal position for kissing your ass goodbye.  And if you were a person of color those "good old days" weren't so good.  

Oh you’ll read this and you’ll say, “What a dreary look at a great country.”  It really isn’t that way though.  If you can stomach it, reread the America posts.  You’ll see that I’ve found so much of the change to be refreshing and progressive.  Now what I like might be exactly what you don’t like and vice versa.  But isn’t that the essence of America’s greatness?  So many different notions of what we should be are what make America free.  The vitriolic ideologies and the angry bile would have us all be of one mind and on one single minded course.  We’ve seen those societies throughout history and we’ve seen their failures.  My father risked his young life in Europe fighting against a nation that adopted a single mindedness.

 Do Republicans piss me off?  Oh hell yes.  Do I want to banish them to perdition?  In my angrier moments yes, but on reflection they belong, just as liberals like I belong.  Those who I damn to perdition are the ideologues that leave no room for dissent, have no inclination to compromise and avoid negotiation like a child avoids broccoli.

I’ve been critical of this country.  I’m critical of my children, to and beyond a fault if you were to ask my daughter.  As Americans we often pride ourselves on being critical because it’s how we demand and achieve excellence.  Americans lionize the late Vince Lombardi who spared no criticism and consistently challenged his players to never accept complacency.  As good Americans we should challenge our nation to be great and most importantly to be good and honorable and never accept that old slogan, “My country, right or wrong.”