I'm struck, every time I come here, to the American small town where my wife grew up, how very very different it is to anything I've ever experienced. The wood-framed houses, with their neat lawns and distinct demarcations, and rows and rows of American flags on the lawn...on flagpoles...draped in doorways. It took me a while not to freak out at this much patriotism so unashamedly displayed, because in the UK, (ahem...unless there's a royal wedding or somesuch celebration of inherited privilege going on), that kind of patriotism has been appropriated and twisted by the kind of people who would have supported Hitler, but who Hitler would have shunned on the grounds that he didn't want followers that stupid. Maybe it's just the mark of a post-imperial society that patriotism became tied up with (usually white) man's inhumanity to (usually not-white) man, and so in the 21st century, any such certainty that one's country is a force for good tends to be viewed as naive and dangerous in the UK. This is not a viewpoint that has gained any noticeable ground here, so it's easy to assume a world-weary sneer and say "Ohhh, you'll learn..." - but that would be to miss the simple wholesomeness of the American Idea - that the nation IS a force for good, and that Americans, in both their ordinary lives, and in their highest offices, have a real duty to ensure that this remains the case. It's a difference in mindset that is evident in every little thing over here. Take the two countries' respective national anthems - the British "God Save The Queen" is an anthem demanding that a deity ensures the ongoing safety and rule of an unelected monarch. If you're a monarchist, that's great, but in its fundamentals, its an unevolved and unevolving plea to be downtrodden, and the only thing that changes is the person you're asking to be ruled by. At its heart, it's a small idea. Compare and contrast that with "The Star-Spangled Banner" - a song of struggle against oppression, of valiant self-determination, of the land of the free and the home of the brave. Now you can say it's twee, you can say it's a glorification of war, you can say it whitewashes over a history of conflict and the extermination of an indigenous people. But what you can't deny is the breadth of its vision - it's an anthem of self-determination, of limitless potential and togetherness in the idea of opportunity. And importantly, it contains the capacity for its own evolution - today's land of the free and today's home of the brave is not by any means the same as it was when the song was written, and the words mean different things to everyone who puts a hand on their heart and sings it, but the core of its idea is still true and pure and simple - everyone is charged to do their part for the good of the nation and the things they think it stands for, as those before them have stood, and fought, and died to make it what it is today. That's why, I think, when Americans sing their anthem, it means something to them, and they do it proudly. That's why, I think, it's fine to fly the flag if you want to. Because the nobility of the American Idea is still intact, and will continue to be intact, almost irrespective of complex history or a potentially murky future.
People in this town often don't lock the doors to their houses, or their cars. I used to think this meant they were nuts, and deserved to be burgled. But I was missing the point. It's a small town, and the idea of society is still very much alive here. Such things just aren't...(shrugs)...done. I mean, undoubtedly, such things are done, but there's no expectation of needing to guard against them. This came back to me at breakfast this morning - d and I walked down to a local diner, where not only are refils of your coffee absolutely free, but you can leave the money to tip your waitresses laying on your table, get up and leave. In the heart of the world's leading light of capitalism, people will give you as many refils as you can drink, and they don't fear anyone else running off with their money. Again, it's just not done. In the heart of capitalism, the idea of society is alive and well. Whereas in London, if you want a second cup, you have to pay for a second cup, and tipping is neither really expected nor necessary, so serving staff have no incentive to give a rat's ass if you're happy...and so they don't. Call me crazy, but I think we're the ones who are getting it wrong.
In case you're wondering, yes, absolutely, today's entry is turning into a rambling splurge of Americana. I'm in an American frame of mind. If it bores you, feel free to skip ahead. Surely though, it's better than my usual Monday fretting about "oooh, will I have lost anything, or put on a pound in the morning..." isn't it?
If I was weighing tomorrow, I don't think it'd be a good report, because I have yet to get on the treadmill here, and while not going nuts, I'm eating proper meals. But as it happens, I'm not weighing tomorrow, and if I'm honest, I don't care - I figure while I'm away from my normal routine, I'll do the best I can, maintain the weight if I can, and then, when I get back, I'll hit it again with the walking and cycling on the repaired bike, and get properly back on track.
In the meantime, I've been ticking off my American icons. This morning on the walk, I saw my first yellow school bus of the trip, and my first genuine, in-progress, Amish buggy ever. I'm not keen on the literalisation of the effect of religion that the Amish represent, but you have to admit that, for better or worse, they also represent a genuine commitment to the idea of religious freedom. We talk a big game about civil liberties in the UK, but it's impossible to imagine that an Amish community would be allowed to separate themselves from the world and live the way they want to live in a block of council flats in Wapping!
Later in the day, I was introduced to American icons of an entirely different kind. While visiting with my mother-in-law, I met the Arcadipanes.
Now, to you, this means nothing, but the Arcadipanes are legends to me. They're the side of d's family who made her growing up not only bearable but sometimes, fun. Now I understand why. They're delicious and mad as a bag of snakes, and they gibber - by which I mean, they talk nonsense for fun, just as d and I do. Good gibber is the mark of a person I can really appreciate and get on with - almost everyone I count as a real friend does it.
First, I met Josie - an ageing matriarch, to be sure, but one with the sort of crinkled kindness in her face that I haven't seen in two decades, since I lost a friend of mine called Emmie. Josie, I'm told, does everything for everyone, and talking to her, you can well believe it. Deeply faithful, she's the kind of person who translates her faith into action, not by preaching but by putting herself out to bring others whatever they might need - from a smile and a hug to a home-baked cookie to a shoulder to cry on and more. She's the kind of Christian, in short, who is a genuinely good advertisement for her chosen path, and I liked her instantly, and a lot. Next I met Nancy, her daughter, of whom I've heard stories of fun and laughter as kids, of camping trips and "Don't you do what Nancy does" and being a force of nature. And so she is - she's not loud, but she leaves you with a loud and colourful impression. She's funny, and insightful and altogether pretty wonderful, and the thing that sealed her in my affections was that she could do all this while bucking up Rita, my mother-in-law, who was having a bad day. She made her laugh, and chatted along, and all the while, she fed her some lunch without focusing on the fact that she was Feeding Her Lunch. She's a force of nature all right, but one with a good heart and a delicate touch. Finally, I met Sam, Nancy's brother. Didn't have as much time with him as the others, but he's a dedicated smartass and first-class gibberer, who had come from cooking his dad some lunch and was going back to work. Good people, all of them, and they lightened a day that could otherwise have been grim - we met with the care team today, to confirm a shift to palliative care for Rita. So here's to the Arcadipanes, who trust to their god, and laugh, and strive together to be the best human beings they can be.
There's nothing more beautifully American than that.
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