I Am America

I Am America., By R.J. Godlewski, written for Right Truth

Let me introduce myself; I am America. I was born on July 4th, 1776 after a long gestation period. Some have suggested that I might’ve been a premature baby, but one rarely questions the timing of their own birth one way or another. I simply know that I was born kicking and screaming for a chance to live through the challenges of my new world. I did not have a easy childhood as nobody ever really does. I remember one episode of sibling rivalry in 1812, though neither of us can remember what the squabble was all about. It must’ve not been all that important for we are pretty much the best of friends now.

Adolescence was a far different story. In the 1860’s, I fought through conflicting emotions. It seems as if I was one against myself, struggling to define my adulthood. It was not comforting to know that everyone had to go through these stages of maturity, but having survived it only made me strong and more useful. Yes, I finally realized that for an individual to be strong, one had to accept the complexities of life. That is, to say, that we don’t always get what we want, just what we need to survive and boy did my youth ever need to learn how to survive!

I was an adventurous sport, I was. Rivers, mountains, deserts, and the elements never detoured me from learning, from expanding into who I was to become. I was a tech nut, to be sure, but that never caused me to shy aware from helping others. In fact, I became a most generous one probably because I did suffer through a lot. I possessed a bit of ego though, but that’s only natural. Ego is cool, if kept on a secure leash.

As I entered adulthood, I was full of ideas and good intentions. During 1917 I even helped out my siblings through the difficulties of a horrible argument. When the squabble ended, I was the first to suggest group therapy in which all parties would have their say and the others would sit and listen. Many, unfortunately, didn’t like these “touchy, feely” sessions and the meetings disbanded. This cost us in our relationships dearly. In the late 1930’s and early 1940’s bullies began to take over the neighborhood and threaten my siblings. They just wouldn’t listen to reason. That was bad enough, but then they started to bully me around and I took exception.

I admit that I wasn’t in the best shape then, but by God I sure pumped iron in an awful hurry! When all was said and done, I simply kicked the living shit out of the bullies and ended up being the strongest individual on the block. This time when I called for “group therapy”, people actually listened. Well, some did. New bullies arrived on the scene but the group still stuck together and tried varying law enforcement techniques to keep them at bay. I was growing a bit older and tired, you understand, and proving my strength through competition was something that I decided was only for when absolutely necessary. So the bullies feigned fights; punch and slap here, punch and slap there. They even tried proving their worth through technological leaps but subconsciously I was still pretty much a “weakling nerd on the beach” and when they said “Jump!” I immediately said “How high?” They shouted “To the moon fool!” Well, needless to say, I accommodated them six times! How I felt so proud and so damn foolish at the same time. There I was standing on the surface of the moon and staring back at those who were staring up at me and I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I was there in the first place! So, I packed up my belongings, grabbed a few tourist trinkets, and went back home never again to leave.

That was the 1960’s, mind you. People were ‘in’ and accomplishments of grandeur were ‘out’. Boy did I have a bad headache then! I didn’t know which way to go, which way to turn. It must’ve been all of that free booze that was offered at the party. To be honest, I don’t think that I can remember much from that period for during the 1970’s I just sat around, minimally employed, letting my hair grow so long that few people recognized me. My siblings laughed at me. “Big, strong America. Look at you now!” I consoled myself with a bit of music, but not much else worthy of my potential.

During the 1980’s, you can say that I experienced something of a mid life crisis. It took a couple of years, but I began to realize that I wasn’t the Evil One. I was, after all, America. So I took back to pumping the iron and flexing my new muscles. The bullies didn’t like it one bit and they picked fights all over the place. Not major ones, just those that kind of get under your skin until you decide that enough is enough and say leave me alone! You know, kind of like mosquitoes. You can swat them silly, but there’ll always be others around to annoy you.

In the 1990’s I went through my “keeping up with the Jones’s” phase and I became rather pretentious when I reflect upon those years. I didn’t care much about the outside world. Hell, I didn’t even lock my doors! It was a great big party of do as you please and let’s all get rich from it! Boy, did I have a lot to learn! You see, all of those pesky bullies started becoming like a disease and, sure as air, I become infected. I should’ve known about all of those Socialist-Transmitted Diseases, or STDs for those of you in the medical profession. It got so bad that I thought that I could merely become an organ donor. A little bit of America here. A little more of America sent there. Who needs two kidneys, right? Well, as I got weaker through my unscrupulous “do goodyness” the bullies came back with a vengeance.

On September 11th, 2001 they gave me a massive nose bleed. I was laid up for three whole days before I came to my senses. Boy, was I pissed. After all, just think of all the things that I did for the world and to get this in return. From religious people yet? So I started throwing punches at anyone who so much as looked at me wrong. My siblings didn’t like it, but to hell with them ingrates. For all of the punches that I took for them, they still didn’t help when the bullies snuck in a blow below the belt. Piss on them, I say. Now don’t get me wrong! I’m still compassionate and giving. If they want my help – truly want my help – I’ll be there kicking and screaming for life once again. Yet, if they just want to live off of their inheritance without any effort on their part, well that’s where I draw the line.

Being a bit older and admittedly more tired, I rather kick back on the front porch swing and watch all of my grandchildren mature into decent and respectable individuals of their own right. Someone has to protect the family, however, and as long as there is no one else willing or prepared to do so, I must dust off my old gloves, keep pumping the iron, and fight like the street fighter that I am! Once bred on the streets, it doesn’t leave you no matter how old and seemingly invalid one becomes. I will always be there, regardless of how much damage and illness my own body offers. It is the mind and spirit of an individual that counts, not how much deterioration one’s body presents.

Yes, I know, everyone dies eventually even if we ourselves choose to ignore reality. At some point in the future – when, exactly, no of us can foretell – I, too, will probably pass away into history. Some may cry upon this event, others will undoubtedly cheer. Still, for all of my rather simplistic beliefs, I do know how my epitaph will read: “America, you lived so that others may have rights and died so that others may live. We will miss you!” And you know something? They will miss me for there will never be another one quite like me. I’m proud of that.

______________________________________________________________________________

Other reading and reciprocal pings:

Maryland Food Collective: Anti-Semites, Woman Honor Thyself

Over My Dead Body, 123Beta

Finally, a forum to oppose Muslim radicals by a Muslim, Rosemary's Thoughts

GWOT update, will be updated in rolling fashion, Pros And Cons

Elvira Arellano Goes to Washington, Common Sense America

Iran tied to terrorism? Nah…, Necon News

The Drinking Age Debate, Rhymes With Right

Convenient Amnesia, Northern Virginiastan

Either blinding stupidity or intentional deceit, Mark My Words

Comments

[Thomas Hamilton]

Ted, you seem to hate America and Israel. Why not move to the Gaza strip? I betcha there are a buncha peace loving Muslims there who would welcome you with open arms.

Oh, and don't let the door hitcha where the good Lord splitcha.

===========================
Total number of US deaths in
3 1/2 years of WW2 - 418,500

[Debbie]

NeoConNews: You're very welcome. Love to share articles. My readers have emailed me, saying how much they enjoy the "Other reading" section.

Ted: If I had time I would give you a longer comment. But I'm going to suggest you read the following and see what you think:

http://www.rjgodlewski.com/AReflectionUponWarByRJGodlewski.html

[Ted]

America is not proud anymore. She is sick and needs desperate help.

I hope and pray that someday the world can forgive us for our mistakes and abuses these past 6 years.
===========================
Number of Operations Iraq Freedom and Enduring Freedom casualties
as confirmed by U.S. Central Command: 4095

[NeoconNews.com]

Thanks for the trackback, Right Truth.

[Debbie]

Thanks Karen. It really speaks to who we are, doesn't it?

[Karen]

Wow. That is one powerful post. THank you very much.