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July 2, 2010 It just didn’t happen overnight It even took longer for the purpose to evolve. Sometimes a unique perch becomes the breathing ground for the interplay of pros and cons. Sifting through them and deciding what matters the most becomes crucial.
Around this time every year, the need to write about the Fourth of July celebration is a nobrainer. My feelings about it are very strong, the compulsion is overpowering. I just have to do it.
For somebody who has wholeheartedly embraced everything that this country has offered, and who continues to reap its many blessings, it’s my way of paying homage. It’s paramount that I allow my feelings to come to life via the printed word.
Why I am here has nothing to do with fleeing some oppressive government and political tyranny, escaping impending physical harm, or avoiding incarceration. I could just imagine what that feels like for people who are in this country under the protective cloak of political asylum. For sure it’s bittersweet despite facing imminent danger; leaving your own country is never easy regardless of the circumstances.
But coming to America, although not Utopia, is the next best thing. As a matter of fact, it is the only logical thing. Regardless of its current state, America is still a safe haven for immigrants. Regardless of its many problems, America is still the only country in the world where civil rights are guaranteed and protected. Regardless of its seemingly monumental social issues, America allows its people to experience democracy as it should be experienced.
I point to two things that play a huge part in my impassioned attempt to pay homage to the country that I have come to love. One is acknowledging the fact that seeking perfection in this country is a figment of one’s imagination, and two, accepting the many indiscretions and flaws that come with living here. It is important to know that deciding to come here, to give your “new” life a chance or to dream of attaining the so-called American dream comes with a price. Steep for some, and may seem easy for others but every immigrant has to pay the price: Hard work.
There’s a lot to be said about that. My opinion may be skewed in the eyes of some people but I can only vouch for my own journey. This country rewards those who pay their dues. You don’t come here expecting handouts. You come here knowing that there’s a price to pay in exchange for the freedom, the opportunities, the endless possibilities and the generosity of this country’s people.
Hard work is respected here. Honest living is appreciated here. Making the effort to be mainstream is welcomed here. One thing you can’t do is live here and expect preferential treatment or even cry racism every time somebody tips your nationalistic cart. Crybabies ought to think twice about coming. Language should never even be an excuse. As we tend to say, “When in Rome, do as the Romans.” This place is no exception. It’s very simple. When in America, speak English!
Oftentimes in a social setting where there’s obvious power in number, we become privy of conversations that would take potshots at what’s wrong with this country. That makes me boil over. Ignorant comments make me think. Who put the shackles on you? Who twisted your arm? Who coerced you into coming here? If America is so bad, then it begs the question: Why are you here? Alas, the silence that ensued after I asked the question was palpable as the hallowed hallways of a dormitory after the overbearing Catholic nuns admonished the lights-off command.
Unless you’re a political refugee or seeking political asylum, you’re no different than the rest of the millions of immigrants who are here and enjoying what this country has to offer – you are here on your own free will!
Although the economic index paints a forlorn picture, no one can dispute that this country is still the proverbial “Land of Milk and Honey.” The beauty about living here is regardless of how dismal things are right now, rebounding from adversity is not just a concept. It is a reality. It’s a way of life. Through time this country has proven its resilience.
Hope is what keeps this country going, it is what sets it apart from the rest, and it is what makes it a great nation. Hope in this country is not just a political slogan. It is not something that goes away after the first 100 days of a new president. It is what’s inherent in every American and every immigrant who understands what this country can do for him. Beyond the trappings of every Fourth of July celebration – the fireworks, parades, barbecues, family picnics and patriotic displays – is the immense pride of having been given the same chance as those who were born here. It is a privilege and I will never take that for granted.
It has never been easy but I would not have wanted easy anyway. For me, the biggest allure about calling this place my home is the ability to freely prove that I, too, can have the same chance towards the fulfillment of my American dream as the kid next door.
They say home is where your heart is and it does not take much to convince me of that. I may not live in a house with a white picket fence but in a big way I can truly say that living the American dream is everything that it’s touted to be. One does not have to live in a mansion, drive a fancy car or have all the material things.
I look out to our front yard and I see age-old trees and immaculately mowed grass. I see our neighbors chatting and a few are walking their dogs. I take a deep breath and transferred my gaze out back to see the wide expanse of the park where I see more trees and more grass. In the meantime, I hear a few whimpers within a few inches of me. I looked down to see two pairs of beautiful eyes staring at me. It’s feeding time and our two pooches are getting antsy.
Ah, my slice of heaven, my piece of Utopia, my American dream! It could not get better than this. Happy Fourth of July, everyone!