When my youngest was little, if he was angry with an uncle or brother…hell, even his mom, he’d say, “Get out of my family!” So absolute and unwavering. If he disagreed with a situation or opinion about anything (bedtime or media permissions), there was no room for finding a common ground. You were simply out! And oh, by the way, he was four.
I’m a U.S. Citizen, born and raised. I grew up seeing Vietnam propaganda of babies and women slaughtered. Not on social media or online. There was no online. It was on postcards mailed to our home. I remember the gas crisis where my parents waited in long lines to fill up their cars. Stations out of gas or selling it for over $4.00 a gallon. I was at home sick from school the day Reagan was shot and I saw the coverage about Brady before his tragedy became a bill and eventually a law. The Oklahoma City bombing. All these things shaped my childhood and kept me up at night.
I remember the movie, “The Day After,” and recurring nightmares about surviving a nuclear war wandering around looking for my parents.
I was around for the bicentennial and the cool little bits of Americana that are now coveted collectibles fifty years later. And we’re all still here to somehow celebrate another milestone. Our country is turning 250 in 2026.
I was raised fearing Russia, China, and Japan. At 19, in 1989, It was scary to think of images like Tiananmen Square happening and how terrified Chinese citizens must have been. But still every-day people…students and workers stood up for democracy and free speech to protest government corruption. There is an infamous picture of a brave demonstrator, identified only as “Tank Man,” who stood blocking a line of Tanks at the Tiananmen Square Massacre. Official accounts say 300 deaths. Others say 2,600. I don’t know. You don’t know. The only thing I know for certain is “they don’t want us to know.” It’s starting to feel eerily familiar here and now.
But I’m a US Citizen. Those kind of things don’t happen here. I’m not a history buff. I can’t recant dates and facts without picking up a history book…ahem, searching Google. When we search online years from now, whose reality will actually be memorialized for posterity? It’s hard to accept that my own country would be capturing sliding truths about our own history.
World War II was before my time. The history of the horrors that happened are almost too painful to read about. There are some things I simply can’t spend too much time dwelling on. I saw the movie, Schindler’s List exactly one time. And the movie, Life is Beautiful. I can’t forget even the Hollywood version of it all. As a mother, it kills my soul when I think about mothers who were powerless to protect their children from abuse, starvation, and murder. In high school, I had a teacher who told a story devoid of emotion. A tale of a German officer, who offered cyanide pills to Jewish women and children before going into the gas chamber. And how, when he was discovered, was sent along with them to his death. Countless other heroes are celebrated now as making a difference.
I want to be a badass and help support the vulnerable, but I don’t want to die for it. For every story of heroes who survived, let’s face it. All the way back to Greek history, it’s usually a tragedy and complete sacrifice of life.
And yet my stream of consciousness is like a conversation happening in my mind reminding me of all the reasons I cannot remain completely paralyzed wrapped in apathy. I am reminded of the poem, “First They Came” by Pastor Martin Nimoller. It’s actually about how someone sat and watched as different classes of people were taken away, doing nothing to interfere. It did not concern them. Finally, at the end, they come for him. No one is left to defend him and it’s too late.
When we sit on the sidelines and watch history unfold, when we refuse to bear witness, or ask questions, we become apathetic. Our voice is drowned out and we slowly lose our freedoms.
Don’t tell me to “love it or leave it.” Don’t show me the door or tell me to go. This is my America too. And we’re not four-year-olds. I will not get out of your family. It’s my family too.
Oh right, I forgot. They are not part of our family. They don’t get the same consideration. It’s completely different from the past. Until it’s not. I am the last person who wants to be political. Don’t ask me which side of the aisle I’m on.
Please let’s stop hurting people. When this crisis passes, and cooler heads prevail, I still want to be a part of your family. I still want to be proud of my country and the freedoms and liberties our founding fathers built it on. And that brings us full circle to the American Revolution. Man, I wish I’d paid more attention in school. It’s never too late to learn. Happy 250th USA.