Letter from an American...

Here I am just eight days before I leave for Morocco and I all I am thinking about is being American. My fellow cohorts and I were selected to participate in this incredible program, which means we were also selected to represent the good ole’ U.S.A. Here we are, a collection of Americans, in the American capital, living the American Dream.

What does that mean, the U.S.A? What does it mean “American”? Is it landing at Reagan National, that used to be called simply National? Is it having a cab driver who was born in Palestine, raised in Chicago, and now living in D.C. drive you to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel where a CVS and Starbucks sit adjacent?  Is it the Chinese New Year dragon dance celebration in the hotel lobby followed by pork belly tacos at Emmit’s Bar and Grille— a grille adorned with intricate mahogany woodwork and the artwork of a painter trained in Czechoslovakia?  

Since my arrival, I have met many of my fellow fellows, which includes Guido who clearly has the hint of Italian roots in both accent and appearance, my roommate Jennifer from Oregon’s timber area who teaches in a school of 200, Steve and Wally whose South Carolinian charm made for pleasant cab companions, Emilia who despite being born in England has a distinct Phillly tone to her vowels, Angela who after a brief conversation I thought I detected Carribean roots, a Minnosotan, Nevadan, Virginian, all with unique backgrounds and American-ness. Some came from Miami, braving the harsh winter air, others from Ohio thankful for temperatures in the teens, escaping yet another polar vortex.

From the warmth of the cab, as we returned to the hotel, I scanned Washington at night. Limestone and marble. Light and dark. The Bureau of International Development. The United States Treasury. The Mall. The Washington Monument, illuminated with the stars and stripes circling its base. The Capitol in the distance, elevated above it all, shining brighter, sitting broadly. This orderly city, modern yet classic. Rigid yet free. Revered and feared. My country ’tis a thee, sweet land of liberty...

I watch the news regularly and criticize what I see across the nation:  corrupt politicians, absurd policies, senseless violence, congressional gridlock, presidential problems. And yet, tonight, the people, the beautiful people of this incredible experiment in democracy remind me of the hope of our past and the potential of our future.  The buildings— strong, stable, statuesque— unwavering in faith, in our ideals. These American ideals that we continually vote, debate, lobby, and strive to achieve, that we hold dear and believe. These ideals that I am both proud and honored to represent as a citizen-ambassador of this great nation-- the land of the free, the home of the brave.