Posts Tagged ‘freedom’

I have a college degree and some other educational credentials.  They are mostly useless, but I have them.   I have yet to apply for a job where it mattered whether or not I had anything other than a college degree, yet the two least prestigious pieces of parchment I hold are the most significant to me.  They are my high school diploma and my certificate in mariachi music.

A few years ago, a college in my area became the first in the United States (and I believe the world) to offer an accredited program in the study of Mariachi.  I had been dabbling in mariachi for some time and made it my goal to be the first person to receive that degree. A friend of mine beat me to the pole position, but I was still able to become the first woman to ever receive this degree in a genre of music which was once exclusively the domain of men.

This might lead you to believe I’m an accomplished or scholarly musician.  I am not.  In fact, compared to my peers, I’m a hack. I suppose, if I were highly motivated I could parlay what I’ve learned into some kind of lucrative livelihood.  Certainly my rudimentary knowledge of mariachi music, history and instruments would qualify me to teach, and while that might be a good fallback,  it wasn‘t my motivation.  To me, this degree is indicative of what it means to be an American.

I was born in America, taught to salute the flag and pledge allegiance to it.  I was taught the principles of The Declaration of Independence and The Constitution of the United States. I was born in the time before being a celebrity meant having a platform for expressing contempt for America.  In fact, when I was young, being anti-American could still get a star black-listed in Hollywood.

I was taught The Pilgrims were decent folk who came here seeking religious freedom.  Now, school children are taught that the pilgrims represent the ruination of Native America.  My ancestors were pilgrims, but not the Mayflower kind.  As your ancestors probably were, they were just pilgrims seeking a better life for their families.

One side of my family came from Europe, the other from Mexico.   Both  came to The United States, because this country offered freedom, education, economic opportunity and a life free of government hostility.  You’ve heard it all before, but the opportunities and freedoms unique to this country have given many the chance to build a better life.  It was certainly true for my family.

In my grandmother’s country, she didn’t go to school.  From the time she was very young until her death, she worked.

There are still countries in the world where children work, instead of going to school.

My mother’s life in this country meant she learned a new language and was able to go to school.

There are still countries where girls are not allowed to go to school.

When my mother left home, she set her sights on becoming a nurse.

There are still countries where governments decide what you will become.

She met my father, and married him two weeks later.

There are still countries where younger daughters must wait for older daughters to be married and husbands are selected by parents.

In just a few years, she had gone from living in a poor two-room house to living The American Dream in a home with bedrooms, heat and indoor plumbing.

What might take generations in many other countries, can be achieved here in decades.

I am grateful for having been allowed to go to school free of political indoctrination.  I am glad to have been able to decide for myself where I would live, what I would do, and who I would marry.  I am glad to have been able to work beside men, choose my own religious beliefs and receive a paycheck  in return for my work. Surrounded by nice cars, appliances, and electronics, it is easy for Americans to take things for granted.

Our clothes, our shoes, our abundance of food, our books, our medicines would be luxuries in many other countries.

I am thankful for my high school diploma, because in those years, I learned something many schools no longer teach.  I learned to be proud of this country.  I am proud of the degree in mariachi. because it reminds me people of any race can come here, without sacrificing their cultural pride.

In other parts of the world, being a different race means being a target of genocide.

This country isn’t perfect.  Our history is rife with mistakes.  The politics of our country may leave us discouraged or disgusted, but individuals have the right to expose the flaws of our government.

In some countries, governments control access to information.

We can speak out against our leaders, without fear of retaliation.  Men and women are allowed a vote.

In many countries, the citizens have neither a voice, nor a vote.

If I had been educated today, I might be ashamed of America.  While there are certainly many shameful and regrettable things in our past, like slavery, our treatment of Native Americans, the bombing of Hiroshima, segregation, our economic policies, or some of our other military actions; this nation has done it’s best to respect the worth of the individual.  We haven’t always gotten it right, but no other country in the world has demonstrated a greater commitment to freedom and democracy for all people.

America isn’t done making mistakes, but there isn’t a place I’d rather live.  It is no small thing to be a woman who has opportunities and the right to make her own decisions in regards to her body, her family, and her future.  Each time I drive past the plot of land where my mother once lived, I am moved.   I am thankful for the opportunities America has given to me and to so many others.  For being a woman born in America, I am as grateful as those pilgrims were on that first Thanksgiving.

May God bless and preserve all the best things about America.

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Within each of us is the desire for autonomy, aka freedom.  There is no freedom apart from the acknowledgment of an individual’s worth.  When leaders decide who has value or who is worthy of respect, the end of freedom is near.

Yesterday I was looking at a copy of The Constitution of the United States.  It reads somewhat like a school handbook, but The Declaration of Independence is a piece of literature worthy of study and praise. I am always moved by how it recognizes the sovereignty  and worth of the individual.

The unalienable rights, life, liberty could easily be the basis of a religion, but instead they are the foundation of a country, which by not promoting religion, grants religious freedom.  There are many who would prefer to see references to a creator or a god expunged from The Declaration of Independence, in order to make it more egalitarian, but there is not a  more egalitarian credo in the secular world.  The recognition of an unnamed god, does not establish the nation as Judeo/Christian.  Instead, it establishes the right for individuals to name their own god.  You may call your god Gaia, Vishnu, Muhammad, Buddha, Krishna, Jesus, Jehovah, Darwin,Karl Marx, Karl Rove, Karl Malone or even to  pronounce god nonexistent.

It is a document which allows the right to commit mass suicide in order to meet the Mother Ship or pay thousands of dollars to an institution which promises to electronically help clarify thoughts.  It is  a document that establishes our right to get marry in a synagogue, LDS Temple, or on a beach.  It is a document that allows us to eat animals or embrace veganism.  It is a document that respects the rights of the individual, the worth of the human spirit, and a document that affords us the right to be wrong.

It is often said that religion is the opiate of the masses.  The quote is attributed to Karl Marx, but credit for calling religion an opiate, goes to The Marquis de Sade.  The most oppressive regimes prescribe their own  religions, as the Taliban did; or erect their governing heads as the supreme authority, as  Kim Jong Il has in North Korea.  If religion is indeed the opiate of the masses, why do the worst regimes in the world go to such great lengths to eliminate religious freedom?  It is because religions allow people to consider their own value and purpose.

As I child, I was plagued with religious questions.  For as long as I can remember I’ve had questions, the answers to which have lead to a distillation of my own beliefs.  Like every other person of faith, I am convinced my beliefs are true.  Believing is an act of faith, sometimes based on evidence, sometimes not.  Just as I did as a child, I still have questions.  Some people think having questions represents spiritual weakness. I believe questions are necessary to determine what is true.

Over the years, I’ve sat through many kinds of religious services, in each followers were convinced they had found truth.  When we subscribe to a spiritual practice, whether it is meditation, doing good works, fasting, performing sacraments or murdering innocents, it requires faith.  Followers do what they do, because they believe, and while most religions require faith, they should never require the suspension of reason.  Even those whose religion is Evolution, will affirm the brain is not a vestigial organ.

Religion is not an opiate, it is an exercise of intellect, by which we try to find freedom from our fears, our nature, and our failings.  Our beliefs give purpose to our existence.  Whether you believe the origin of humanity to be an act of nature or the artistry of a creator, whether or not your beliefs include a deity, it requires no faith to know you are a unique individual with a life which yearns for purpose.

Reflecting on what it means to be an American, as I wait for the fireworks, I am reminded of just a few of the many things that make me thank God for this great country.

Being an American means amazing abundance–whether it be food, shoes, cars, TVs–Americans have much.  We don’t dream of bread or stand in line for bread–we choose from the dozens of loaves available  and toss out our excess.
It means education and opportunity–everything is available for those who are willing to make an effort to get it.  As true as it ever was, in America you can be whatever you want to be.

It means our communities are unique and vibrant, with little pockets in every city steeped in ethnic culture.  It means a government and society which embrace people of all races.  For many who come here, it means never again living in war-torn cities or under government oppression.  In America “genocide” is a term learned in school, not a reality.

Being American means freedom to think independently and give voice to those thoughts.
It means we can freely disagree about how the country is run–we can freely express contempt for our governments.
It means that our votes are counted–the results of elections are not pre-determined.

It means the freedom to pray or not–freedom to worship or not.

It means that we have better stuff –even stuff most of us don’t think about–like better medicine, better dental care, better roads, better bridges, and even too much stuff in our closets or garages.  It means we have more to be thankful for than most even take time to recognize.

Being an American means you can take it all for granted–and even complain about the generosity of a country that provides, welfare, unemployment, Social Security, food stamps, Head Start, medical care for the disadvantaged and too many other programs to count!  It means that when you fail to provide for yourself, you can blame the government for your plight and complain that they won’t do more.

Being an American means that every single day there is something to be thankful for.

In America there are many who resent those they see as having been born with an economic advantage.  There are those who believe that others have it easier, as if they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, because I was born in the USA.

Because I am forever a girl, Memorial Day is special to me.  When I was little, it was the day after which it became acceptable for women to wear white clothes & shoes–only one of many freedoms it brought.  Days spent playing in the sprinklers, late afternoon-air filled with the smell of meat cooked over charcoal and late evenings best spent out doors–summer has never been finer.  The unofficial start of the summer vacation season, with longer days and warmer temperatures, is as exhilarating to me now, as it was when summer was three months of freedom.

Memorial Day will never feel the same to my children–because they’ve always attended year-round schools.  They’ve never known long lazy summers like the ones I used to enjoy.  Neither will they experience the melancholy which afflicts me after Labor Day, when the summer season winds down until the next year.

It’s been ages since I was a schoolgirl, looking forward to those seemingly endless summers, but the carefree innocence of those days is one of many things lost.  Days in the town square with trips to the candy store for a Sno-Cone and evenings eating ice cream while watching softball games are among many youthful pleasures long gone, but fondly remembered.

Memorial Day is a good time to remember.  While most holidays celebrate good things,  Memorial Day is about sad things–remembering things lost.

This year, I’ll spend Memorial Day in the old hometown with family & friends.  My brother and I will take time to go visit the graves of family members we’ve lost.  I’ll spend time with my crew of cousins–the Brown-eyed Girls.  I’ll take time to enjoy a long slow cigar with one of my oldest girlfriends.

I’m not a cigar smoker, but I make an exception for her.  The night my father was buried, we watched the sunset over his grave and smoked a cigar.  The talk and the closeness to one with whom it’s too late to be guarded, shored up my spirit as I did my best to reconcile my father’s body in the ground and the loss of his presence in my life.

Now, the cigar is symbolic of how long we’ve been friends, because that same girlfriend is one with whom, I whiled away many days of those summer vacations of years gone-by.  Our days were filled with dolls, forts, first boyfriends–eventually husbands replaced boyfriends, children replaced dolls and houses replaced tree-forts. I can think of no better way to begin summer than remembering and celebrating an enduring friendship.

Life and the things we look forward to are over too soon.  Things like childhood, graduations, weddings, holidays and life come and go too quickly.  Once the graduations and June weddings begin, the pace of summer will be too fast for a kid like me.  That’s why  this weekend I’ll take it easy.  As I enjoy the company of some of my favorite people, I’ll be remembering how long summer used to be.

Deb’s Note: Lest the significance of Memorial Day is diminished by my nostalgic sentiments, Wednesday’s blog addresses what the holiday is really about.