The American Heartbeat

 

The following text is from the body of a letter I sent to my son while in basic training for the Navy. I had been listening to my iPod and an old song titled American Heartbeat played. Something told me to sit down and write about what that meant to me, and it seemed relevant to what he is working for in his naval training. 

 

We are not ancient Persia, nor Greece, nor Rome. We are many things: strong and weak, hustling and slack, demonstrative and passive. We are the siphon of human history. 

We have an empire, of sorts, but are not imperialistic. We are decidedly imperfect yet most often choose to pursue what is right rather than not. Say what you will about our character but our collective loyalty is ardent, durable and mighty.

Every civilization in recorded history has struggled with profound scars, has deliberated how best to cope with their weeping wounds in the context of their own times—Madame Blue, she is no exception. Grievous are her transgressions, yet she prefers not to turn her back on them. Her exertions are toward nobility, toward the minimizing of ignobility. 

When we call for help we answer it ourselves. We prefer action over whimpering. Earth rests beneath our feet yet we don’t just think about going to the stars . . .we innovate and then go there. We also sleep beneath the sparkle of heaven making it the province of our dreams.

We are fasces—as many individual reeds we are vulnerable, feeble, hesitant; bound together we are robust, tenacious, enduring.

Our pulse is fast and loud but if we are still for a moment, and truly listen across the chasms and erosion of volubility, we would find one voice, one nation, one majestic heartbeat.

 

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Speak Now . . .

It was early morning, shortly after 6am. Staff would be arriving soon. I was vacuuming in a conference room when I noticed something scrawled upon the large whiteboard on the wall:

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

Know who wrote that? Mr. Theodor Guisel — you know him as Dr. Seuss.

How improbable to see words such as these written in blue lettering for corporate eyes to see. Capitalism requires profit motives, a constant push for greater returns and lower costs. The bottom line matters more than the human line.

Sure, plenty of corporations throw platitudes around and hope they sound genuine — “People are our greatest asset,” and other such banalities. Puh—leeeeeeeez.

Is it actually within the realm of possibility that lurking within corporate structures are those with the ability to understand the machinations of productivity? There is a biological component to capitalism. Sounds obvious, certainly, but anyone who has been part of one might be hard pressed to prove it.

“Those who mind don’t matter . . .” There will always be those who take offense or have some personal agenda to work on. Finding others to hang fault on only serves their purposes, not yours.

” . . . those who matter don’t mind.” Being human often equates to not wanting to be wrong, itself a perilous step toward the edge of pride and the ensuing fall. Those who understand and accept an opinion — when presented properly, of course — are not judgemental about it . . . unlike some other people.

Good Dr., I ask for your forgiveness for what I’m about to say, as it sullies the true simple wisdom of your words. It really must be broken down to a lowest common denominator: Opinions are like assholes; everybody has one and they stink even when they won’t admit it.

So speak your mind knowing that some will use it for their own ends, and those who are of more solid making will appreciate your having done so.

Just be careful how you phrase it . . . it might feel good when you’re done but the stench may put a lot of people off.

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Word Fun . . . And A Rant!

Ninety percent of what you read below (pre-rant) came from an entry at Dictionary.com entitled Oops! Those aren’t the real words!. I think word etymology can be fun sometimes, even quirky, and this entry is a delightful illustration of that premise. I have made some minor additions, ones which I highly doubt you can’t see. The bit about the graphic at the end is all me.

Did you begin the school day by placing your right hand over your heart and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance? If you were among the many kids who thought “indivisible” was “invisible,” or “liberty” was “liver tea,” you were not alone. We don’t have a definition for liver tea, nor do we believe anyone would drink it, but this common misunderstanding of a phrase is called a mondegreen.

A mondegreen is a misinterpretation of a word or phrase that shares homophony (sounds like) another word or phrase that has been heard.

Not to be confused with a malapropism, which is the unintentional improper use of a single word, mondegreens are often applied to a line in a poem or a lyric from a song – usually with amusing results.

James Gleick, an American author and journalist, believes the mondegreen is a distinctly modern event. “Without improved communication and standardization of language which accompanies it, there would have been no way for this shared experience to have been recognized and discussed.”

Some popular mondegreens include:

• “’Scuse me while I kiss this guy “(‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky from “Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix)
• “Alex the seal” (Our lips are sealed from “Our Lips Are Sealed” by the Go-Go’s) — You have to be a serious idiot to screw that one up! C’mon . . . Alex the Seal?
• “Hold me closer Tony Danza” (Hold me closer tiny dancer from “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John) — This is worse than Alex the Seal!

An example of a reverse mondegreen is Iron Butterfly’s 1968 hit “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” which was originally titled “In the Garden of Eden.”

Now it’s your turn – share some of your favorite mondegreens, below. What did you believe were the words to the Pledge of Allegiance or the Star-Spangled Banner?

Better yet, if you seriously thought those lyics were about Alex the Seal and Tony Danza, don’t tell me what you believe the words to the Pledge and SSB were. I think I would cry.

“Liver tea”? Really? Perhaps I should axe you how much time you have spent at a libary.

Now, one last little note — I’m sure you couldn’t help but notice the graphic. I rather like it. I found it while trying to find a better graphic for the Pledge than Dictionary.com had — but here’s the thing: I found this image after I saw one of the Pledge missing the words “under God.”

If you have read my blog long enough you know of my patriotic and American history bent. So seeing an image of the Pledge without the words “under God” shot up a flag as large as Old Glory herself (she’s the flag housed in the National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C.

That ‘godless’ image was from a site hosted by a group who call themselves RestoreThePledge.org. They claim “under God” is a governmental sanction of religion. From their site: ” . . .the words “under God” are clearly a promotion of a specific religious belief.”

Really?

Unsurprisingly, they don’t mention any specific religious sect. Liberals and Progressives are killing this country . . . I swear to God.

Our founders came from a wide range of religious affiliations, a large majority of early America being Protestant. Yet scholarship has repeatedly shown that all these men felt the birth of our country was based soley upon the grace of Providence. Faith, and a belief in moral virtue—and God—were intimately entwined in most everything our founders struggled for.

Here is, apparently, the rationale under which these misguided zealots operate,. again from their site: “These words, added by Congress in 1954, are in violation of the First Amendment – “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion…”

The Pledge is a law? What the f***? Why haven’t I read about that in my amateur research on American history . . . and while candidly stating my scholarship as “amateur” I am equally convinced that what I know about our history, compared to what they do, could probaly stun a herd of water buffalo.

Saying “under God” in the Pledge breaks no such law. Congress has made no such law. And in case you fece-lfinging simians-cum left wing troglodytes didn’t get the memo I feel it my duty to include the text of the entire First Amendment of the Constitution you so freely use as a desecretory doormat:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Incredibly potent stuff, unlike the grey matter you lemmings call brains.

So, per usual, a lengthy reason for my actions. All that to explain why I chose that picture . . .

Because I believe . . . and because I am an American.

May God Bless the United States of America.

Maybe you drooling simpletons would like to extinguish that from all presidential speeches, too.

* Technorati claim token NDZETN3EZ2V5

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Who Won American Idol Last Season?

No, this isn’t about American Idol . . . sorry. If you’re already disinterested then I believe I can safely say you clearly fall into the collective dustbin of American freedom and liberty, the contents of which will soon be emptied into the wastebasket of history because nobody cares about it anymore.

My answer to the title of this post? I truly couldn’t care less.

Written below is my response to a post Joy Erickson had on her blog a couple days ago: Are History’s Lessons Being Neglected. (I tried posting this as a comment, Joy, but it wouldn’t show up!)

Her direct question to her readers was “Do you think history should take a back seat to math, and the science’s?” I didn’t address that question head on, choosing instead to reply to the comments instead. (oh, and I commented on Laura’s comment, too, but it didn’t show up either :^( )

Here was my comment:

If we don’t know our history, how can we possibly understand ourselves? Where will any country wind up if they have zero sense of their own posterity? History doesn’t repeat itself — individuals repeat the same mistakes made throughout history due to ignorance or sheer hubris; in our case we are in deep trouble mostly because of ignorance, a willful ignorance.

You can’t market history unless it’s in a souvenir shop stamped on coffee mugs, keychains, t-shirts, and other trinkets. A “culture” enamored with glitz and celebrity can hardly hope to stabilize its underpinnings of liberty unless prior lessons of history can be made commercially viable in the guise of American Idol, Dancing With The Stars, or Survivor.

I don’t disagree that learning history in school is boring; as it was for all of you so it was for me. Just as Em and Nikki have attested, I, too, now love history, but not because of what I learned in school. I read books, watched documentaries, visited Wasington D.C. and saw with my own aging eyes what God Himself blessed our founders with . . . the inviolable knowledge of Nature’s Law, of the blessings of Liberty.

I do what I can to teach my son these things because I know the school won’t do it properly. I don’t expect him to read all the books I have, but he has assumed — in his own reserved way — the same spirit of patriotism I keep warmed in my own heart. That slowly glowing ember will burn hotter somewhere down the road, and I hope he will pass it on.

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You’ve Heard Of Wearing Your Heart On Your Sleeve . . .

But what about wearing your heart on your truck? This truck would epitomize that for me:

Did you catch the bald eagle perched in the passenger window?

Oh . . . don’t bother clicking the play icon in the middle, it’s just a screen capture. :^)

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The Liberty Bell

Liberty. One word—an idea, really. One which doesn’t simply process in our brains to bring context to a sentence or meaning to the words around it, but more implicitly resonates and travels deeper into our cores, where every stirring notion of patriotism simmers. One word that immediately evinces two striking icons of the American essence: the Liberty Bell and the Statue of Liberty.

As Gary Nash conveys in The Liberty Bell we long ago dismissed the idea that these icons were mere objects showered with our jingoistic ardor, but rather we have imbued them with a kind of reverence and love only the vestment of our souls could provide.

Leviticus 25:10: “Proclaim liberty thro’ all the land to all the inhabitants thereof.” Daresay a solid number of Americans know these words as inscribed upon the bell, but perhaps more telling might be how many don’t know the passage, or only know the names Pass and Stow from the movie National Treasure. Nash’s scholastic approach to relating the Liberty Bell’s history leaves little doubt of its staggering relevance and gravitas as an enduring icon of our cherished founding principles.

Professor Nash moves sure-footedly from the pre-bell story through its period of actual use and into the larger, almost epochal journey through generations who venerated the Liberty Bell as a symbol of our democratic culture. Unless you are a historian (or history buff) you may not have known the State House Bell (or Old Bell), as it was known until around 1835, was removed from its tower in Philadelphia in 1776 and hidden in another town for fear the British, who came to occupy the city, would have melted it down for ammunition.

Many citizens don’t know of the bell’s near demise—along with the old Pennsylvania State House—in 1816, under a “Gothic mist of ignorance and vice”; just two of the rich, significant historical allegories Nash relates. Schoolchildren were inculcated with fabricated, emotionally charged stories of its use on July 4, 1776—a stigma which actually aided the tocsin in its rise to almost ephemeral reverence.

A generous amount of the book is allocated to seven separate trips the bell made over a 35-year span. If there is a singular quibble I have about the book it would be the amount of detailed information given about each and every trip—every stop, how many people showed up, etc. Without doubt there is value to such data, and in this case it serves to highlight the increasing popularity of the relic and how it served to bolster patriotism at crucial times when it was needed. I view this (very minor) discontent on my behalf as indicative of my wanting to learn the next piece of lore or passionate affect upon a new generation.

Appropriately, an in-depth look at the anti-slavery movement and the chimer’s role in it exposes the reader to many instances in which liberty was pronounced and exercised within close proximity to the bell, often at the expense of slaves.

A story from 1851, involving 33 blacks and five whites, furnished the reverberating overtones for caustic feelings from slaves being brought to trial in Independence Hall, mere steps from where the bell hung. Fugitive slaves had escaped into Lancaster County and these thirty-eight people defended them during what was termed the “Christmas riot” in which a Maryland slaveowner had pursued one of his own fleeing slaves and got caught in the turmoil and was killed. Abolitionists extolled the group as following the example of “Washington and other American heroes” in 1776. But outside Independence Hall a crowd of whites called for justice and punishment for those responsible for the killing and for “taking the lives of men in pursuit of their recognized and rightful property.” The Leviticus proclamation on the bell would seal its fame and its catapult into the world of causes—in a most moral and vitally important way.

Nash has given a beloved, if muted, icon a solid, well-researched biography, one which puts right generations of embellished legend and sets into a proper framework the genuine gift to American the Liberty Bell has become. Iconic history at its sonorous best.

As always I thank Rhonda Sturtz and the New York Journal of Books for procuring a copy of this book for review. Thanks also to Yale University Press for the review copy.

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Government and Words

January 2011 has already given us our first senseless tragedy, one which has played out upon the national stage not only because of its utter brutality but also due to its actions having been interwoven upon the loom of politics, perhaps a textbook example of what the Germans would call realpolitik.

As I understand it, the gunman in the Tucson, AZ shootings said he was set off because he didn’t like a congresswoman’s reply to his question “What is government if words have no meaning?”

I was asked for my thoughts on that very question, which I give below.

In the 1760’s, Parliament decided it was time for Americans—still subjects of the crown—to help with the cost of their defense. Boston merchants especially, had grown fat upon the largesse of natural resources around them without the onus of heavy taxation. Trade between the colonies and Britain had massive benefits on both sides of the Atlantic.

But American merchant-bankers and small shopkeepers were not the least bit keen on things like the Stamp Act, Coercive Acts, or the Tea Tax. Though in truth, the Tea Tax was notably insignificant, but the wealthy elite held all the power among the local political bodies and they exerted every means at their disposal to decry the taxes and feed the burning embers of treason and sedition.

The crown used its influence and legislative power in an attempt to raise revenues, chiefly to cover the ballooning cost of defending the colonies from insurgencies at their borders. What it wound up doing was raising the ire of those same merchant-bankers in the colonies—men with voices and pens dipped in the intellectual inkwells of Harvard and other prestigous institutions. These men used words to make impassioned pleas to Parliament . . . and to stir the unrest of the working class.

Government derives its power from ideas, from the abstraction of concepts kneaded by concerted thought and productive debate. When it fails to do so we are obligated, even duty bound, to do what is necessary to bring it in line with our wishes: “That when any form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute new Government … as to them shall seem more likely to affect their Safety and Happiness.”

Winston Churchill once said “Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the other forms that have been tried.”

Greeks in Athens and Sparta had slightly different forms of democracy, but when Persia threated their freedoms they fought intensely to protect those ideals they cherished. King Xerxes tried every way possible to conquer the Greeks but learned the hard way that democracies don’t fight until a truce is signed—they fight until unconditional surrender. Not only was Persia defeated, but Xerxes’ actions resulted in unifying what had been, up to that time, a nation of individual city-states.

Democracies fight to protect ideals given form by words, but given meaning from something much closer to the heart.

Government is given its meaning, its very power, by the people. Words and politics are often deaf to each others ears, but it is upon the citizen to make its government an instrument to his or her benefit. It is a blessing of Providence, and of men devoted to a belief in Natural Rights and Liberties, that we can use words to elevate our own impassioned discourse, and to convey the full measure of our devotion or disenchantment.

Words clench at our throats and nourish our hearts; they arrest and attest; they badger and bind. Government can be an instrument of evil and wickedness, or it can be to a society’s credit and pride. But government will never give meaning to words, nor should words give pretense to instilling more worth to government than it deserves.

We owe it to ourselves, to our children, and to their children in perpetuity, to set forth the best words we can, to construct our ideals in a manner of positive consequence so that our government is reflective of our better angels, and therefore more deserving of God’s grace and blessings.

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D.O.U.

Fifty years ago this week some 14,000 Cuban children were part of a Miami-based project called Operation Pedro Pan. They were brought to the U.S. In hopes of having a better life instead of the almost certain abject poverty they would experience under the Fidel Castro regime.

One of the men who headed up the project was a simple man named George Guarch, who worked with the Catholic Welfare Bureau to arrange the lift. He was of Cuban origin himself, speaking fluent Spanish and English. He would be the one person who these kids would meet when they first arrived.

In all cases, as near as I could tell, the parents voluntarily sent their children even though it meant separation from them—the chance at a better future was the price exacted for such a steep sacrifice.

Fifty years later one of those children, Pedro Noriega—now 67, and George’s own daughter, Lynn Guarch Pardo, met to record their thoughts for NPR’s StoryCorps.

They talked of the trip, of what it meant to a child to leave its parents and home, of his recollections of seeing her father when they arrived in Miami. He recalled being taken with a good number of other children to their home where George’s wife made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. “I will never forget that,” he said. He also recalled meeting the daughter for the first time and that of a family which would “find a way” to make things work.

He also remembered George working with customs officials at the airport that first day on American soil. one eighteen-year-old boy had been sent with some siblings, and apparently coffee had been “accidentally” spilled on the paperwork
thus smearing some of the data on the forms. One of the areas needing to be re-filled was the date of birth, which was adjusted so siblings wouldn’t be broken up or older—’adult’—children wouldn’t be released onto the streets merely by virtue of their age.

It sounded like lots of coffee was wasted that day.

As the two spoke and remembered this man George you could hear their voices break, if only slightly. “He was one of my best friends,” Pepe says. Years after Pepe came here he and George began to meet once a week for lunch, until one day George didn’t show. Pepe found out his mentor had died the day prior.

“I’ve got five fingers. I only can count all my good friends with one hand, and George was maybe number 1. And every time we talk about him, you’re going to get wet eyes, too, believe me.” After an emotional pause, Pepe shakily says “I still miss him.” Lynn replies, just as tenderly, “I miss him too.”

This one man—and his family—sacrificed as much as the Cuban parents to give these children the gift of America and all the hope she promises. All the war, abuse, instability, politics, terrorism, and overall dark side of humankind can indeed be swept aside by a solitary, powerful idea. powered by Deeds Of Unselfishness.

If you’d like to hear the interview between Pepe and Lynn you can find it here.

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What does it mean to you?

The question was posed to my blog group “What does freedom mean to you?” Those who have read my blog long enough know of my penchant for things American, not the least of which are the ideals of liberty and freedom. So you might imagine my delight at seeing such a question posed.

America is, by its very nature, a melting pot. Neither I nor the rest of my country are as strong individually as we are collectively. To be an American doesn’t mean you are only caucasian, it means we are every race, creed, national origin, and even skin color you can think of. At our core though, all Americans are red, white, and blue. Each of us pursue our own dreams and desires, we live our lives largely on an individual basis, reaching out and embracing family and friends. Ask most of us what we really love and the responses you’ll get will run the gamut from materialistic to spiritual. It’s not unfair to say that each of us, deep down, reserves a small piece of real estate upon which we quietly nurture our love for our country, an ideal not indigenous to America alone.
Ask me if America (or our government) is perfect? I emphatically respond “No.”
Ask me if many things could be better? Naturally, I respond “Yes.”
Ask me what I think it means to be American? I say “For me it reduces down to two simple but powerful words: Freedom and Responsibility.”
I consider myself most fortunate, even blessed, to be an American. I enjoy, even take for granted, freedoms which people of other nations dream of or only read about in clandestine shadows and forbidden books. We have an immigration problem here because of what America is, not because as Americans we hate outsiders. The mere fact I can write this and speak my mind without fear of reprisal is because of our Constitution. That doesn’t mean I can be disrespectful just for the sake of speaking out; with powerful freedoms come equally powerful responsibilities. You can’t have one without the other.
Frankly, if you don’t like America then I and many of my American brothers and sisters wholeheartedly welcome and encourage you to leave. We don’t expect you to love everything about it, good and bad. Most of us don’t either. But we also try to work at becoming better people, better citizens . . . better Americans.
I take Liberty, to have and to hold. I will fade and pass eventually, but within my bloodline run the hopes and dreams of America.
Let Freedom ring.

Freedom, for many of us, means the ability to come and go as we please, to speak our minds, to travel, to exist within a certain framework of openess. For others it implies opportunity, perhaps to start over or simply acheive and excel more than possible before. In his book The Story of American Freedom, Eric Foner sums it up this way:

“Americans have sometimes believed they enjoy the greatest freedom of all—freedom from history. No people can escape from being bound, to some extent, by their past. But if history teaches anything it is that the definitions of freedom and of the community entitled to enjoy it, are never fixed or final.
We may not have it in our power, as Thomas Paine proclaimed in 1776, “to begin the world over again.” But we can decide for ourselves what freedom is.”

Men of great intelligence and passion took tremendous risks with their lives in the hopes that liberty would carry an infant nation, raise it above blueblood tyranny and respirate with the incendiary breath of righteousness. Wills of stone and hearts of kings carved away from English rule what “ought to be,” staving off a thrashing imperialistic beast. Are such men still among us?
Who now can see a million stars lying upon the water, and carefully, judiciously, ripple the water for the greater good and not self-interest—make good come from past mistakes, and one-by-one set the peoples’ victories to breathe in the velvet warmth of the midday sun?
Who will stand apart from the shrill voices of deception and answer honestly for every action?
At the root of all politics, of any movement of philosophy or philanthropy, sits the frailty of humanity. Its very nature an anathema as well as a gift. Amidst such documents of great intention and purpose should be men and women not only willing to exercise their humanity, but do so bereft of personal gain, save that of fulfilling a love of service to their country.
Perhaps our form of government isn’t the gold standard. It certainly isn’t perfect. On every issue, at every turn, stand opposing viewpoints and vehement exertions urging the behest of each one. Underneath it all should quietly but dependably beat the heart of a patriot. Never, not in our lifetimes, nor that of our children or their children in perpetuity, should any of us witness the dying gasp of freedom. It will always assuredly struggle and fight within itself, for out of that comes understanding. Unbridled it should never labor so, but raised with the discipline of proper loyalty it will prosper and mature.
Thomas Paine wrote in Common Sense, “Time makes more converts than Reason.” With a little help from Providence, Liberty will continue to hold her lamp aside the golden door, and we’ll be ever vigilant as we watch through the window of Time.

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America . . . Do You Care?

I’d wager that most of my readers are old advanced enough to remember Schoolhouse Rocks. One of my all time favorites, and perhaps one of the catchiest of all was part of the America Rocks series, which included the telling of how a Bill becomes Law. Keep reading . . . I have that gem posted somewhere, but you’ll have to read through this post to find out where!

---

Our friend Bill is found leaning against the door of the House of Representatives. He seems glum and listless. Let’s see what transpires:

Li’l Sam: Hey Bill, what’s goin’ on?
Bill: *sighs deeply* I’m feelin’ blue, Sammy. A little down. Maybe I’m bi-polar, you know, like Congress.
Li’l Sam: *scratches his head* Umm, what?
Bill: That’s a joke, son! I’m throwin’, but you ain’t catchin’!
Li’l Sam: Sorry, I just don’t . . .
Bill: Aww, hell. Forget about it. Doesn’t really matter anyway.
Li’l Sam: What’re you bummed out about?
Bill: *rubs his nose and sniffles* I just finished reading an article in The History Channel magazine. Enough to drive a man to drink I tell ya! But I can’t, really, being paper and all.
Li’l Sam: *stares blankly*
Bill: Absorption, boy! Don’t you pay attention at school?
Li’l Sam: Well, I . . .
Bill: Don’t feel bad, Sammy. Believe me, you’re not alone.
Li’l Sam: Whaddya mean?
Bill: It’s enough to break my heart, kid.
Li’l Sam: Must have been some article, Bill.
Bill: You ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie.
Li’l Sam: *raises a finger and begins to speak*
Bill: I know. You don’t get it. *sighs again*
Li’l Sam: Not really.
Bill: This article was titled Who Cares About The American Revolution?
Li’l Sam: We learned a little bit about it in school!
Bill: “Little” being the key word, I’m sure.
Li’l Sam: I don’t remember much, though.
Bill: Color me shocked.
See, this group took a national survey back in 2009 to see what Americans knew about the Revolution. You know, what got us here.
Li’l Sam: We fought Britain over lack of representation in Parliament, right?
Bill: Not bad kid. In a roundabout way, you’ve got a grasp on the underlying fuse that was lit. But get this. . .
The survey revealed that Americans “highly value, but vastly overrate, their knowledge of the Revolutionary period.”
They found that 89% of adults—that leave you out, son—felt they could pass a basic test on the American Revolution.
Li’l Sam: Wow! A lot of people must know a lot about it, then.
Bill: Whoa! Slow down, Speed Racer!
83% failed the test. Eighty-three percent!
Li’l Sam: *drops his mouth open*
Bill: Tell me about it. I’m right there with ya, Sammy.
Li’l Sam: That’s bad!
Bill: You’re gettin’ ahead of yourself, kid. Listen to this:
Half of all adults surveyed believed the Civil War, The Emancipation Proclamation, or the War of 1812 occured before the Revolution. See what reality TV will do to ya, Sammy?
Before the Revolution! Are you f****ng kidding me!
Li’l Sam: But the Revolution began in 1776.
Bill: *slumps harder against the door* No, it began in 1775, actually. We declared independence in 1776. Where did your teacher say the first shot of the Revolution was fired?
Li’l Sam: Umm, in Lexington, I think.
Bill: Good boy!
Li’l Sam: Followed by a battle in Concord, Massachussets, right?
Bill: Careful son, you’re stepping on my despair.
Li’l Sam: *stares again*
Bill: *waves him off*
Bill: Here’s another punch in the face:
More Americans polled knew that pop singer Michael Jackson sang Beat It than the fact that the Bill of Rights is part of the United States Constitution.
Li’l Sam: *smiles brightly* I like Michael Jackson! He did Billie Jean, and Thriller, and Remember The Time . . .
Bill: Are you finished?
Li’l Sam: *nods quietly*
Bill: Good. Don’t let it happen again. Now where was I . . .
Oh yeah—One third . . . You paying attention, Sammy?
Li’l Sam: Uh huh!
Bill: One third of the adults who took the survey did not know the right to a jury trial is covered in the Bill of Rights. Thank God for Perry Mason and Judge Judy, huh? At least they know it exists.
Li’l Sam: Who’s Perry Mason?
Bill: A TV lawyer.
Li’l Sam: Like on Law and Order?
Bill: *another sigh* Yeah, kind of. I’m almost done, son. I know you’re quickly approaching your attention span limit. So here’s yet another mind numbing result:
Sixty percent of Americans could correctly identify the number of children in reality-TV show couple Jon and Kate Gosselin’s household (eight), but more than one-third did not know the century in which the American Revolution took place.
Li’l Sam: They don’t like each other now.
Bill: Who?
Li’l Sam: John and Kate.
Bill: You’re killin’ me, kid.
Li’l Sam: Sorry.
Bill: Last one, then you can go play in the street . . .
From a list of major battles, two-thirds of Americans could not correctly name Yorktown as the last major military action of the American Revolution.
What does this say about us? What hope do I, or you for that matter, have if we don’t understand what led us here?
Li’l Sam: I dunno.
Bill: You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.
Li’l Sam: Thanks!
Bill: You’re welcome. Thanks for cheering me up, kid. *does a face palm*
Li’l Sam: See ya, Bill!
Bill: Maybe not!

If you’re even remotely interested you can see the test results, or even take the test yourself at the site for the American Revolution Center. In case you’re wondering, yes I have taken the test and no, I didn’t cheat. I was tempted to on the last question, but didn’t. Here are my results:

And if you read through the whole post, then you’re entitled to the following:

A small site I created a few years ago which speaks to our Constitution and the underlying principles we Americans cling to yet know precious little about: That Which Defines Us

The actual Schoolhouse Rocks episode I’m Just A Bill. Go ahead. Be nostalgic. This is good nostalgia :^)

If you go here (the last page of my Constitution project) you can find a short video with Morgan Freeman and an all-star cast reading aloud the Declaration of Independence. Have your speakers turned up and maybe a tissue handy.

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