Reflections on Our Freedoms During American Holidays

It's hard to take in the reality that nearly a year has come and gone. We're now at the second step of the holiday season, having gotten Halloween out of the way. And we're considering all of the ways we should count our blessings and see our bounties.

Unfortunately, we are brainwashed into seeing false grandeur as we compare ourselves to those who have not. This year, many of the things that have impacted the population remind me of the Rockwell "Freedom" series. As I reflect on the America Rockwell told us we have and what a blessing it is in so many aspects, I become disappointed at the many freedoms we have had chipped away, have given away, and have had absconded, all in the name of safety, security, and being a true American citizen.

The fact that those who have incrementally taken so many rights of citizenship from us are actually despots dressed in navy blue suits, white shirts, and red ties doesn't camouflage their nature and identity. But I'll get to that later.

Let us consider the Freedom series. But there are so many in the Freedom series. In fact in light of the holidays, let us consider our origins and we'll cross off the Freedoms as we come to them.

Immigration and Fundamental Rights

When we come down to the fundamentals, all of us, except for one class, are immigrants. All of our ancestors left another country in order to find a new place with opportunity for freedom of expression, to worship our God as we choose, to have more and better for ourselves and for the children (always for the sake of the children).

Some were loyalists and came in order to found a new civilization on behalf of the Mother Country. But once here, everyone endured all of the same hardships, disappointments, trials and errors, and lessons. We co-existed. We shared knowledge and skills. We supported one another.

We had to dismantle some customs in order to adapt to a new land -- an unsettled land that was raw and rugged and demanded the most from the individuals who inhabited it. We found it prudent to become allies with the natives of the land in order to learn about the terrain, the ways to survive and what industries would be most beneficial.

We learned each other's languages in order to communicate and in order to share the knowledge. We learned each other's language in order to build a foundation for our shared existence. For some reason, English became the language of the land in spite of the many countries and cultures that populated it. Some historian will have to research the wherefores and whys of that. It isn't my purpose in these musings and opinion. But English is the official language of the land and so it stands.

Pride of Citizenship

There is the story of one 1800s French immigrant who beamed at finally reaching America. He began his new life, found a wife, and started a family. Then one day, it is said, the children chased one another through the house, playing and teasing and having fun -- in French. The immigrant was furious. He stomped his foot and bellowed at the children. "In this house, we are American and in America we speak English. So in this house, we do not speak French; we speak English!"

Six generations later, the descendants no longer know anything of the Mother Tongue except the little colloquialisms tossed about on a day-to-day basis. But none have the ability to hold a conversation. And now six and seven generations after the French immigrant, we have become a global society where it is paramount that we speak at least two languages as a basic medium.

Some have not been as prideful as the Frenchman. But then the social pressures of the 1800s and now are much different. Today, immigrants bring their languages and customs and strive to acculturate. Yes, they do learn English and use it as the predominant "outside" language. But they are conversant in the Mother Tongue as well as English and adapt to American standards and customs (still excited about taking on the look and feel and symbolism of this new and meaningful life) while remembering and honoring their roots.

Today we learn how to live among one another and celebrate the similarities as well as the differences. But these days, the lessons are quite difficult. They are impacted by the many economic pressures that threaten to destroy the Land of Promise and Plenty and therefore turn it into a dustbowl of need.

Pictures for the American People

Today, we also look at those who are not among the predominant immigrant races with spite and suspicion. We point fingers and accuse them of being potential murderers and terrorists. At least the racial and religious profiling that was proposed in Southern California was squashed. But that was another of the Freedom series -- freedom from invasion of privacy; freedom to pray. And there was freedom to go wherever we wanted without fear of reprisal or persecution. At least we sidestepped returning to those dark days of the 1950s and '60s called the Civil Rights Era.

Rockwell documented our progression through the turbulent years. His depiction of the little black girl in the white dress on her way to the desegregated school, flanked front and back by federal protection stirred all manner of feelings. But it was evidence that scholastic racial desegregation had come of age. So we have all manner and color of faces and dialects mingling on campuses. Part of that diffusion is because the neighborhoods' demographics have changed.

The other change that's occurred is the previous pressure to study and excel in school. Even in the mid-1960s, high school teachers listened to the rhetoric. Word was out that teaching at inner-city schools meant schools full of unqualified or poorly-trained teachers. Many bought into the rhetoric (offended by the generalization, the defamation of their abilities) and stopped trying to instill that burning desire, that driving need to be the best or at least the best that one can be, to succeed against all odds, and create exposure to even more challenging situations.

Fortunately, not all parents gave up the urging. Unfortunately, there were far too many who got caught in the social support quicksand and stopped striving. Complacency replaced that burning need as the catch phrase "underprivileged background" basically rubberstamped approval for admission. Retention in Affirmative Action oriented programs was basically understood unless the failure to even try to learn was obvious and the student was essentially wasting everyone's time. But a small class of all races still clung to the concept that more education spelled success through higher pay, better job opportunities, and getting hired based on knowledge and qualifications rather than the color of one's skin.

To Live in Our Dwellings

Somehow, that message has not carried into the 21st Century. Too many times we go into the less desirable neighborhoods and find only two or three racial groups. People who are hopelessly untrained and uneducated but still going through the motions of Life and living dwell there. A few exceptions, throwbacks from a previous era or else those passing through to get established, can be found. They raise children and transact business. But they subsist on government stipends and think of these as a livelihood instead of a temporary mode of assistance until things are righted. Few have bothered to challenge these people to engage in critical thinking. They need to be instructed on every minute step of any task, much as a severely retarded child would need to be instructed. Some are salvageable. The ones who realize there is something better and hunger for it. There is still freedom to dream, to aspire and make a way to realize those dreams.

That was another of the Freedoms, to live where we wanted as in "New Kids in the Neighborhood." And as with the original settlers, our abodes matched our resources and abilities. There was shelter against the harsh cold and the scorching heat. There was a buttress against the billowing winds that scattered the seeds of the new crop.

How odd it is these days that some of us find ourselves living among strangers in substandard housing, while the still less fortunate share a dorm room filled with cots in a homeless shelter. These and their next lower tier of life, street people, seem much more prevalent. We might even refer to them as "fungibles." Some are there by choice, some by necessity, some because there are no other options. They are lost to society, never to rise again to a state where they can be self sufficient. If they do, it is through sheer grit and valiant might. (See In the Eyes of a Child Series, "Life After Skid Row," NBC Today Show, November 26, 2007)

They find themselves indexed by the government because their Social Security Account and/or driver's license numbers have become part of their identity tagging that they carry to be found and re-immersed. Whenever the government deems it expedient to use the "fungibles" for more tax dollars, they are plunged into the depths of Hell again in order to make it seem that we are doing benevolent things for the "less fortunate." Churches also use this population that they have aided in creating so that they may feel proud of their benevolent deeds and thoughts while excluding the power that these individuals could provide were they allowed to cultivate their talents in that environment. We do not heed the fact that some are "less fortunate" because we have made them so, and keep them as such. (See "Life on the Streets" collection, Los Angeles Times, October 16, 2005)

And then there are the fortunate who have spacious homes. But the mortgage industry threatens even those individuals with its shakiness and the wild speculative lending that preceded these days. Who could foresee hiring and wages at near standstills even now in certain parts of the economy? It's indicia that we have moved into yet another type of industry and workers need to re-educate theirselves in order to properly compete. Perhaps this is where the second and third language will prove useful.

To Speak Our Consciousness and Vote Our Desires

The first settlers wanted to be free to speak their consciousness without fear of government reprisals. This new land promised such freedom, as well as protection from invasion of privacy, searches and seizures of property under color of law but could be the result of having objected to the majority party's move in a particular direction. And the first settlers had the right to speak no matter what their origins or social class. Whether the trailblazer, the rancher, the seamstress, the indentured, or the boatman, they all had a right to freely express their views at the town council meetings (or public gatherings). The interesting thing is that people of that age tended to think things through before speaking. With that focus, they kept to what needed to be addressed. Rules governed how discussion was held and it proceeded in an orderly fashion, few to none feeling they were prevented from lifting their voices. None had need to fear government or Church reprisal, as is the case in other places.

The only ones not included in these town council meetings were the original race. But even those people held their closed-community meeting that basically had the same types of rules on freedom of speech.

Those discussions usually required some type of action to be taken based on the consensus of the group. Thus, each person was also allowed to vote their desires for the outcome. Their vote was not absconded through some chicanery. They did not need to pass some literacy test nor register some bizarre allegiance in order to vote on how they should be governed. Each vote cast was counted. In light of the General Elections of 2000 and 2004, that's quite an amazing concept!

And the Feast

So here we are remembering the first feast after the arduous settling and surviving. The surviving of sicknesses where those who had knowledge of medicinal ways shared the lore for the sake of saving the population. No HMOs or PPOs to answer to. It was just plain quasi-government-run health care. As the ensuing three or four weeks progress, we'll have more family dinners and feasts. There will be more giving thanks and counting blessings. There will be more recollections of days gone by.

We'll welcome being with all of the family, in spite of the annoying idiosyncrasies. We'll accept the loud laughing, the manipulative personality, the too sugary, the one who pinches. We'll help a relative adjust their hearing aid or get some assistive device (whether cane or walker or other thing) for someone at the gathering. And we'll be thankful for the handicapped placard that can be used in the car that got them there. We'll eat too much and stay too long. The level-headed give directions and help move things along. Everyone else imbibes.

The kids will race through the house or go into a room to play something. Maybe they'll even dance. There'll be small talk, big talk, promises and projections. There'll be watching games and sharing device features and knowledge. If it isn't a camera, then it will be the all-in-one multi-use something, the handheld, TiVO. Speaking of TiVO, there will be marathon sports playing on some type of television. Some who are present have brown or black skin, others have blue eyes, a sprinkling may have blonde or purple hair while still other kinfolk wear twists. There are the lanky and tall ones (for reaching things too high) as well as the short and "plump" but kissable. We know who'll be there, even hope they'll be there and enjoy the company. It's part of the tradition as well as the heritages and customs from long ago and very far away.

Have the holidays changed that much? I'd venture to say in substance, not very much. But when it comes to circumstances, they have changed drastically.

Is this still the same place that was settled in 1622? You know, the land where everyone of every race and origin and status strove together to build and last. The land where everyone was promised a lifetime of liberty, justice, opportunity, and Freedom for all.