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Friday, March 27, 2009

I believe...

By Aunty Brat.

Barack Obama is NOT America. Really he isn’t.

Before anyone gets their knickers in a knot, this is not about politics, but it IS about how I see America; America the Beautiful.

Sure, Barack Obama MAY be the American President, the public face of America, but he is NOT the America I know and love. Once upon a time, when I was a little girl in England (okay, littler,) the first time I was aware of the iconography surrounding any US President was when the shots that killed JFK echoed around the world. In my naivete I thought JFK WAS America and dreaded what would happen to America as a result of his assassination. As Americans know better than I, those were tumultuous days in the USA, but America survived and thrived.

Just as some Americans spent the eight years of George W. Bush’s presidency being the quintessential “ugly Americans” that the msm loved to give air time to; just as loud mouthed Americans screamed abuse and blame on Bush for everything they perceived as wrong with their own lives - and their country - so, too, today, do I hear a lot of despair about America from Americans. Even as the world – with the cheerleading msm leading the parade – hey, America is not that bad, they are now a kinder, gentler country because they elected the Obama camp - I see beyond that current resident of the White House. The world may think Obama IS America. He is not, just as NO president is America, but merely the PUBLIC face of a country.

I believe America is the mother in New York who struggles through her own agony to comfort her pre-teen daughter as she mourns the unexpected loss of her two adult children within weeks of each other.

America is the tearful veteran who struggles with losing the family farm in the farmland of America; the farm which his ancestors had nurtured for generations, and which his father had entrusted to his safety.

To me, America is the newly created grandmothers, seeing all of America’s future in their grandchildren's eyes. One creates baby formula from scratch, and the other joyfully takes her grandchild from the new parents for the weekend. They see no punishment in the birth of these littlest Americans.

The world may see only the President of America, but I see the single mum, who, because of an extensive education that she paid for herself, moves across country to a great job, to give her teenage son a slice of the American dream, that is available to all willing to work for it.

A few decades ago, another Canadian journalist broadcast a radio piece that he had written about America. Gordon Sinclair said, in part:

When the Americans get out of this bind -- as they will -- who could blame them if they said "the hell with the rest of the world." Let somebody else buy the Israel bonds. Let somebody else build or repair foreign dams, or design foreign buildings that won't shake apart in earthquakes." When the railways of France, and Germany, and India were breaking down through age, it was the Americans who rebuilt them. When the Pennsylvania Railroad and the New York Central went broke, nobody loaned them an old caboose. Both of 'em are still broke.

I can name to you 5,000 times when the Americans raced to the help of other people in trouble. Can you name to me even one time when someone else raced to the Americans in trouble? I don't think there was outside help even during the San Francisco earthquake.

Our neighbors have faced it alone, and I am one Canadian who is damned tired of hearing them kicked around. They'll come out of this thing with their flag high. And when they do, they're entitled to thumb their noses at the lands that are gloating over their present troubles. ...

(You can go here for the original broadcast audio, or to read the rest of this.)

To continue reading go here; I believe.

God bless you Aunty.