Dear Americans

You taught me a valuable lesson the last couple of weeks. I came to visit your country. Specifically, I stayed in the D.C. area and in New York. I didn’t stay all that long – all of ten days. But I went in with a skepticism and, I must admit, with a bit of a sardonic outlook about your fair land. I held a lot of the prevalent anti-American attitude that is out there; for this, please accept my regrets.

 But you showed me a land that is different that the perception about it; and you showed me who you are more than I had suspected to see. 

 I think of the man who brought my family pillows and extra blankets at 10:00 p.m. in NYC. He was cordial about things, polite, explaining that it took a little longer because things were busy. On pressing a little further, I learned that he was the only one in the whole hotel working in the housekeeping and maintenance area… that’s the way it is every night for him. He did the job with a joy and compassion I could never muster. He wasn’t angry to have to do all this work alone – his boss, so he said, felt he could handle it all himself.

 I think of the person who wrote an editorial in a newspaper I read while I was down there. The writer had a child serving overseas in Iraq and wanted to remind your President and others in government that the decisions they so valiantly made affected the lives of others – including this person, who worried day and night about the safety of a loved one battling overseas. I can’t capture the eloquence of the letter writer here, but in essence the gist was to emphasize the fact that politicians may act very gallantly about sending in troops, but in the end, it’s not their kids who are fighting the battle.

 I think of the people who stopped their journeys to help us find our way on the occasions when we went the wrong way. They offered to point us in the right direction… in one case, it was a self-admitted homeless man who thought we looked lost… on another a man carrying several boxes which, though cumbersome, did not impede his desire to help out. In each case, the help was offered without any strings attached – and always the directions were bang on!

 I think of the generosity of benefactors who made it possible for me to learn more about you and your country, and the world we share. I say this with a touch of envy because I visited very beautiful galleries and museums that were made possible because of the kindness of strangers – people who set aside money to ensure that one and all could admire a painting by Andy Warhol, or learn about outer space, or let my daughter (who is enamoured with all things of the 1970’s) see Archie Bunker’s chair.

 I think too of the mother I encountered while hanging around one morning on the outdoor set of a morning news broadcast. She was overjoyed at being there, along with her adult children – they gathered from many parts of the U.S. she said, and were there for a sort of family reunion slash birthday celebration. As we stood by for hours, her daughters kept checking to make sure she was okay, and offering to go for coffee with her so that she wouldn’t be alone… each knew that her knees were aching.

 I could go on about others I encountered, and the many ways in which I was moved. On about the second day I realized that there is within you a real generous spirit and a willingness to help; I think much of the world sees that. But what I learned which was so profound for me -- culturally, though my country and yours are neighbours, there are somethings that are different. But at the end of the day, we value a lot of the same things: family, freedom, our past, and the joy of living. 

All material in this site is copyright (c)1991-2008 by John Stopa