Disconnected
The problem with America? People don’t care. There’s no pride. No pride in where we came from…no pride in family…no pride in self.
Oh, there’s arrogance, alright. Love of self, but no real pride in self.
We were doing a Social Studies lesson on culture and customs. How these derive from your ancestors. One activity asked for kids to graph where everyone’s ancestors came from. Aside from some of the black kids knowing ‘Africa’, not one child knew anything about the history of their family. I wasn’t expecting a full lineage, but just an idea of family history.
The kids knew nothing of their family. Well, how can they, when most come from broken homes. Borderline poverty. It’s a battle for self. For survival. And today’s technological world is devolving even further any connection one might feel with others.
It’s making a scary world. If you have little connection with those closest to you, no connection with those who came before you, how can you have pride in who you are? If you don’t know the sacrifices of those who came before you, how can you learn to make sacrifices? How, then, can you do anything worthwhile? Become anything worthwhile?
Knowledge of your family’s history, of your country’s history, is necessary for you to make worthy choices.
Although I fear the maxim, ‘All we learn from history is that we never learn from history‘. Be that as it may…but history repeated does bring the victories as well as the defeats. It would just be nice to have victory…peace…for awhile.
March 2nd, 2009 at 6:49 am
It wasn’t until two years ago that I knew the basic origins of my ancestors. The news didn’t come from a relative, as I know of none, but National Geographic. Oh, I knew what my adopted family were, but that’s different. Those people wrote books about their family history, only it wasn’t mine.
I hear you, though; people don’t talk about it like they used to… Arthur’s girls didn’t know his family lines until I told them a few years ago. Didn’t know about their grandfather, the fallen from grace Danish ‘royal’ who came to America to paint houses. Or their Irish ancestors and their struggles.
The farther away we go, the more we lose.
March 2nd, 2009 at 8:00 am
I know hardly anything about my grandparents, and nothing of their families.
I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. My ancestors came over and assimilated. They wanted to be Americans, not Poles or Germans (my heritage).
I have to be honest here, I am irritated every singly day by one specific ethnic group and their vehicles plastered with their home country’s flag. They identify themselves first as that country, and then, maybe, as Americans. If you choose to live here, be proud of being an American. If you’d rather be back at home, go there. I don’t need to embrace your heritage.
March 2nd, 2009 at 5:25 pm
I agree with wRitErsbLock – bugger those filthy Irish!
March 2nd, 2009 at 8:35 pm
Pam: You need to feel a connection…it makes you feel part of a bigger chain. Just knowing that you came from a farmer’s family or a seamstress or steelworker…just part of something more than you are. Doesn’t mean you have to BE that heritage. Heck, you might even hate it. But if you have nothing against which to work, it makes it tough. BR always felt he came from Scots-Irish ancestory…only to find later it was Polish.
WB: I agree…it doesn’t mean that you cling completely to that heritage. It’s a part of you, but in America…it’s about making yourself more than your heritage. It’s a foundation, not the entire structure.
Harvey: Hey, that’s my grandma you’re talking about! And she was one beautiful blue-eyed, red-haired tough Irish wench. But first and foremost, she was AMERICAN!
March 3rd, 2009 at 4:35 pm
It might have been more important when our grandparents still spoke the language of the old country. Those days are long gone for me, though, I remember that my mother was born in that foreign country called “Kansas”. My stepfather came from a different foreign country called “Brooklyn”.
Now I have traveled through my Mother’s homeland, I won’t go to Brooklyn, I hear tell it’s full of Yankees.
March 4th, 2009 at 10:24 am
Sad, but true. An important, thought-provoking post.
March 4th, 2009 at 6:39 pm
Peter: I’ve been to that Yankeeland…okay to visit. But to live there? Not me.
Bob: I think part of it is because we no longer ‘honor’ our elders. We don’t take the time to listen and learn. Our fast-paced life doesn’t allow for the time just to sit and enjoy our family’s past.