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The Real America

By Jillian Wheeler | July 4, 2008

The Real America…. What does that mean to you?

For those of us who are Americans, and even for those who aren’t from the U.S., the phrase is filled with meaning.

My father was a Texan, and my mother Canadian. Both countries are in my heart, but I am an American.

Here’s what “The Real America” means to me:

Reverence for every aspect of personal liberty.
The dream of a better life.
Respect for every individual.
Tolerance.
Ingenuity and creativity.
A willingness to work hard to get ahead in life.
A sense of adventure and curiosity.
Love and respect for this beautiful land we inhabit, and for our Earth.
A hand up to those in need.
Compassion.
Commitment to work together to make a better life for all.

Of course, Americans are human, and like human beings throughout the world, we struggle with our personal and national shortcomings.

On July 4, 1776, our founders had a revolutionary vision. Then they wrote a constitution that initially recognized only the rights of white, male land owners. Our history has been a struggle to expand the vision to all.

Over the past 232 years, we’ve fallen short of that vision many times. Right now, there are many things we need to do to return to those basic American ideals.

But The Real America is a beautiful vision, and I’m proud of it.

I’m sure there are other thoughts you would add, and I’d love to hear them. Please leave me a comment (click the “comments” link above).

Meanwhile, I’m often asked to reprint this post, which first appeared in December 2005. It feels to me like the consummate American story… The Real America that is in our hearts.

Have a wonderful 4th of July!

A New York Story

Recently I was in New York City, combining business and the pleasure of the city at Christmas time.

I’d seen a movie and parted from my companions who were headed uptown. Then I hailed a cab headed downtown to my hotel. It was bitterly cold and the cab felt warm and cozy, so I asked the cabbie how his night was going.

“Where you from, Missus?” he asked with an Eastern European accent. “Texas,” I replied. Nobody in New York cares where you’re from in Texas – just the idea of Texas is sufficiently foreign.

His response surprised me. “Oh, Texas! You saved the country!”

“How so?”

“Bush! President Bush! Without the President, where would be now as a country? Imagine, God forbid, if Gore were president now – worse than Clinton!”

I grinned and told him that not everyone in Texas actually shares that view. In fact, I’m a Democrat.

He explained that when he first came to American from Romania twenty years ago, he, to, had favored the Democrats.

Then, the more he head the leaders of that party speak, the more it seemed to him their ideas were just like the Communist ideas he had fled in his own country. Now, he’s a staunch Republican.

He wasn’t trying to persuade me, just stating his point of view. I asked how he liked living in New York.

“I love it. It’s the best place for immigrants, for anyone. I’ve lived in big capitals all over the world, but there is no other city like this. You can come to New York with nothing, and build a good life for yourself.”

When he and his wife and daughter emigrated in 1985, they went to work and saved money to bring over his brother and nephew. They bought a house in Queens.

“Queens is the best borough for living, absolutely.”

By then we were almost to my hotel. We said it had been nice to meet each other and share ideas. Most of all, we acknowledged we are privileged.

He may support the war in Iraq, and I may have concerns about the Patriot Act. We may check different boxes on our ballots.

But we are both Americans. And we can sit in a car in the biggest city in the country, two strangers, and say what we think honestly and without fear of reprisal.

Have a wonderful holiday.

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