I‘ve started reading Dinesh D’Souza’s best-selling book What’s So Great About America and find it hard to put down. And before you ask, the title isn’t a question but a statement. “America is the greatest, freest, and most decent society in existence,” writes D’Souza. “American life as it is lived today [is] the best life that our world has to offer.” A central theme seems to be that the freedoms of America offer too much to immigrants, which is why there have been so many. He argues that the success of immigrants historically has been due to their assimilation of American values while keeping their heritage, i.e. the “melting pot”.

This may be his most personal book, with parts written in the first person as India-born D’Souza describes his encounter with the United States, first as an immigrant and now as a citizen. He’s perhaps better at explaining why America’s critics are wrong than explaining why America’s celebrants are right - but he’s very good at both, using a mix of feisty arguments and sharp humor. “I am constantly surprised by how much I hear racism talked about and how little I actually see it” is just one of myriad topics he skillfully filets.

“Only now [following 9/11] are those Americans who grew up during the 1960s coming to appreciate the virtues…of this older, sturdier culture of courage, nobility and sacrifice,” D’Souza writes. “It is this culture that will protect the liberties of all Americans.”

We live in an amazingly  wonderful country, complete with the freedom to help shape, mold and improve her. We are free to complain about those things about her we find less than virtuous and praise those things we find filled with virtue. No other country on earth offers such a challenging opportunity.

“To make us love our country,” Edmund Burke once said, “our country ought to be lovely.” Burke’s point is that we should love our country, not just because it is ours, but also because it is good. America is far from perfect, and there is lots of room for improvement. In spite of its flaws, however, the American life as it is lived today is the best life that our world has to offer. Ultimately, America is worthy of our love and sacrifice because, more than any other society, it makes possible the good life…and the life that is good.

Michael alerted me to this CBS news clip (Pardon the preceding ads):

Of course, the inconvenience of wearing Latex gloves to use it may prove problematic. But I’m sure the guys at Sony will work that out…

For my “Patriot’s Journey” post today, I’m taking an excerpt from Inga Muscio’s Autobiography of a Blue-Eyed Devil, from the “Eenie, Meenie Miney, Mo, Catch a Cracker by the Toe” chapter. Often criticized for “making things up” and for selectively moderating history to conform to her sometimes extreme views, the author nonetheless expresses, at least in this excerpt, an interesting, provocative and amusing expression of why she loves our country.  Enjoy!

I love America because Malcolm X is from here.

I love America because Malcolm X, Audre Lorde, Paul Robeson, Diamanda Galás, Robin D.G. Kelley, Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn, Paris, my Grammy, Missy Elliott, Yuri Kochiyama, Oscar the Grouch, Ho Che Anderson, Janeane Garofalo, Cookie Monster, Maxine Waters, Cynthia McKinney, Jan Schakowsky, and Gore Vidal are all from here.

They all grew up in America, just like me.

I love America because it’s where I’ve had Iranian rosewater syrup ice cream and Indian cardamom ginger ice cream too. America feeds me veggie kung pao chicken, rich Ethiopian stews, and Boca Burgers with organic tomato slices, fat and juicy and salt-and-peppered. I love the food of America. It is the best of the whole wide world.

I love America because there are so many voices here. There is Neil Diamond and Talib Kweli. Ann Coulter and Lisa Tiger. Bill Cosby and Louis Farrakhan. Colonel David Hackworth and General Tommy Franks. When I think of all the voices in America, I almost lose consciousness with the breathtaking whirling in my mind.

I love America because each state is a different country and when I am all bundled up in “Minnesota” when it is a bone-numbing forty-six degrees outside, total strangers chide me and tell me to take off my hat, and in “Ohio,” a group of young Amish people told me I was English, and I said, “No, I am Irish and Italian,” and they laughed at my ignorance, because to them, everyone who is non-Amish—including Neil Diamond, Talib Kweli, Ann Coulter, Lisa Tiger, Bill Cosby, Louis Farrakhan, Colonel David Hackworth, and General Tommy Franks—is “English,” and in “New York” it is totally against the law to dance in a bar and you can get in big trouble, and if you tell people in “Louisiana” that you don’t eat meat, they will feel sorry for you and express their sincerest condolences. One of my favorites, I think, is when I am in “Michigan” and if I ask someone where they are from, they will hold up their right hand and point somewhere on it.

I love America because almost everyone I hold dear to my heart and share memories and history with lives here.

I love America because it offered a home to my immigrant mother, gave her a place to raise her children.

I love America because there is a festival here for every conceivable occasion, celebrating the strawberry harvest, the antique motorcycle, the first day the mall opened, the most poised six-year-old girl in a specific geographic region, and the go-cart. There are Greek Orthodox festivals, hippies run amuck festivals, black nationalism hiphop festivals, Sun Dance Warrior festivals, Japanese cherry blossom festivals, lunar new year festivals, gang truce festivals, and Mennonite quilting festivals here in America.

If I did not love America, I would do what the bumper sticker says and leave it in a heartbeat, but I cannot imagine how sad I would be living somewhere that is not America. How could I survive without radical cheerleaders and Dave Chappelle, without loud-mouthed assholes like Howard Stern, without pampered doggies in cashmere sweaters, without Margaret Cho and Alix Olson, without deep plush golden velvet interiored lowriders and flamboyant homos prancing down the street in ball gowns aglow with little white lights in the tulle?

I love America because it describes every aspect of my identity, humanity, and complex ideology.

It is a beautiful place and I am deeply honored to have been born here.

I love America.

Frequently, mirror images are used by photographers to convey serenity in nature of mountains reflected in lakes, for example, as well as in commercial works like this edgy Barry Lewis image of Scott Ridley. And sometimes they’re aimed at grabbing attention or evoking emotion as I believe was the case in the image below. It’s particularly striking because of the predominance of black which creates an almost eerie, disconcerting reaction in the viewer. Does it move you? If so, how?

I’ve decided to join the 4th Annual Patriot’s Journey wherein I’ll endeavor to post something positive about the USA each day between Memorial Day and Independence Day. If my math is correct, and assuming I have access to a computer and am not otherwise indisposed, I’ll have 28 weekday posts, 28 good things to say about my country. Sounds worthy and doable, right?

Other bloggers participating are Drumwaster’s Rants, Speed Of Thought, The Bastidge, Right Thoughts and Cosmicbabe. 

If you have a blog, feel free to join in or, if you feel so inclined, feel free to contribute to this one.  So let’s begin:

As I was preparing yesterday’s Memorial Day post, I stumbled across this short essay written in 2001 by a third grader named Ali at Academy Elementary School in Madison, Connecticut, presumably as a class project. I was immediately taken with the beautiful simplicity and wisdom of her words, and amazed that someone so young could so clearly see what so many of us have seemingly forgotten: that we owe a debt of immeasurable gratitude to the men and women who made the supreme sacrifice to insure our liberties and freedom, and that we should always remember how they set us free.

“As the flowers rest on the decorated graves and the sunlight shines on the beautiful sailboats, Uncle Sam whispers in my ear about how we should care for the soldiers and remember the ones that have died. Swimming pools open, BBQs fry. Today is the day to think of what they have done for us. There are blurs of red, white and blue marching down the street and flags are lowered at half-mast. But we should always remember and never forget what set us free, from this very day on.”

Whenever I read or hear something like this, I’m relieved, thankful that there is hope for our future, that we won’t forget those who gave their all to preserve liberty. And I’m reassured knowing that young people like Ali will help keep the fire burning in all of us.

I received this story from wifey. It made the news last week, I suppose because of the amount of work involved to repair the damage caused by one mother’s failure to watch her toddler. It seems that a little boy spotted the pretty pile of colored sand on the floor of the vast hall and, slipping under a protective rope, danced all over it, ruining the creation of eight Tibetan monks who had spent two days cross-legged on the floor of Union Station, meticulously pouring the sand into an intricate design as an expression of their Buddhist faith.

They were more than halfway done with the design - called a mandala - on Tuesday when they ended their work for the day and left. The little boy showed up sometime later with his mother who was taking a package to a post office within the hall. A security tape shows the boy’s mother returning to the mandala, grabbing her son by the arm and walking out of camera range.

The monks, on a year long tour of the United States and Canada to raise money for their Tibetan monastery which had been destroyed, saw the destruction Wednesday and said they would start over. In a ceremony Saturday, they will sweep up the sand design and offer bits to onlookers for their gardens. The rest will be placed in the Missouri River, they say, to carry the blessings all over the planet.

If you’ve ever raised little boys, you know how easily something like this can happen although, in all honesty, Mom should have been watching the little rascal closer. I’d like to think she used the experience as a teaching tool and that both she and the little boy learned a valuable lesson…

Since this embedded CBS News clip is an AOL News link, I’m not sure how long they’ll keep it up. Once they decide to take it down it’s, well, gone.

Many of you will recall that on July 8, 1947, witnesses claimed that an unidentified flying object (UFO) with five aliens aboard crashed onto a sheep and cattle ranch just outside Roswell, New Mexico. This is a well-known incident that many say has long been covered up by the U.S. Air Force and the federal government.

However, what you may not know is that in the month of March, 1948, exactly nine months after that historic day, the following people were born:

Albert Arnold Gore, Jr.: Hillary Rodham; John F. Kerry; William Jefferson Clinton; Howard Dean; Nancy Pelosi; Dianne Feinstein; Charles E. Schumer and Barbara Boxer.

See what happens when aliens breed with sheep? Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

Memorial Day began as a spontaneous outpouring of honoring and remembrance for six hundred thousand American soldiers who died fighting the Civil War. Towns and villages in both the North and the South began decorating the grave sites of the war dead with flowers. Decoration Day, as it was then called, became official with General Orders No. 11 issued by General John Logan, Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in May 1868.

In 1915, inspired by the poem “In Flanders Fields,” Moina Michael replied with her own poem:

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

She conceived the idea of wearing red poppies on Memorial Day in honor of those who died serving the nation during war. She was the first to wear one and sold poppies to her friends and co-workers with the money going to benefit servicemen in need. In 1948,  the United States Post Office honored Ms. Michael for her role in founding the National Poppy movement by issuing a 3 cent postage stamp bearing her likeness.

Today, in military cemeteries across the Nation and in lands where U.S. soldiers died far from home, men, women and children will gather to remember, reflect and to honor those who gave what Abraham Lincoln called the “the last full measure of devotion.”

I hope you’ll join me today at 3 P.M. in the National Moment of Remembrance. One minute of quiet reflection isn’t too much to ask to honor the supreme sacrifices which continue to make freedom possible. Wear a red poppy with pride in honor of those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Remember that  “All gave some and some gave all…” for you.

Those of you who know me know of my passion for adventure scuba diving and underwater photography/videography. So when I was offered the opportunity a few years ago to deep dive in a small exploration submarine, I jumped in with both feet! I found it exhilarating, educational and will definitely do it again should I get the chance.

The Deep: The Extraordinary Creatures of the Abyss is a new book by Claire Nouvian who was so inspired by what she saw in the deep ocean that she set about raising awareness of all that we don’t know about the estimated 20 million undiscovered species living there. She worked with various research organizations to curate 220 stunning images, many of creatures never before captured on film. 160 of them are published in the book that Sylvia Earle (National Geographic Society) calls “…the most stunningly beautiful book about the sea ever produced.” I can’t wait to get my hands on a copy!

Music fans across the pond have known about Scottish singer-songwriter KT Tunstall since last year when her album Eye to the Telescope raked in critical praise and she was nominated for Britain’s new-music honor, the Mercury Prize. Tunstall’s album got a Stateside release in February and she toured the U.S. through March.

Part of what draws attention to her is her live performances - She’s a one-woman band, literally. Using a looping machine operated by pedal, Tunstall records and plays back harmonies, guitar and percussion, all in real time.

Enjoy the video… She’s definately an entertainer!

I was looking over some of my last year’s posts on the AFP website and noticed this one from May 11, 2006. Not much changes, does it?

Senators Agree to Revive Immigration Bill

Senate leaders reached a deal Thursday on reviving a broad immigration bill that could provide millions of illegal immigrants a chance to become American citizens and said they’ll try to pass it before Memorial Day.

The agreement brokered by Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, R-Tenn., and Minority Harry Reid, D-Nev., breaks a political stalemate that has lingered for weeks while immigrants and their supporters held rallies, boycotts and protests to push for action.

I think the graphic below from freakingnews illustrates the proposed “solution” to illegal immigration now being considered by our fine politicians in Washington…

When our lawn mower broke and would no longer run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed. But I always had something else to take care of first - the truck, the car, playing golf - always something more important to me.

Finally, she thought of a clever way to make her point. When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors. I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a minute and, when I came out again, I handed her a toothbrush and said, ” When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway…”

The doctors say I’ll walk again, but I’ll always have a limp.

H.T to Mike!

If you’ve been filling your tank lately, you’re well aware that gas prices are at an all time high and are projected to go even higher this summer. An article in Marketwatch yesterday says that average retail gas prices jumped by 12 cents to a record $3.26 a gallon last week alone according to the Energy Department. Gas prices are up nearly 50% since late January, one of the largest sustained increases ever recorded by the government.

Over the past two decades, gasoline price spikes have proved to be relatively temporary, so consumers didn’t really change their behavior by cutting back their discretionary spending in other areas. By the time consumers got around to changing their behavior, prices had fallen back.

This time, it could be different.

Bob sent this with the question, “I wonder how much this job pays?”

“There’s only three things I’ve ever been afraid of: Electricity, height and women. And I’m married, too.”

Mike sent this bit of wisdom I thought well worth sharing…

The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question: “Why didn’t we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?”

I replied, “I did have a drug problem when I was young. I was drug to church on Sunday morning, I was drug to church for weddings and funerals, and I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.

I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults, drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn’t put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me.

I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profane four-letter word. I was drug out to pull weeds in mom’s garden and flower beds, and cockleburs out of dad’s fields.

I  was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood and, if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.

Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, and think. They are stronger than meth, weed, cocaine, crack or heroin and, if today’s children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place.”  - Author unknown