Ladies and Gentlemen, I am an American

Yes, I can...

There is a strange feeling that goes along with being American, something that I have struggled, fought, questioned, denied, accepted, embraced, loved, hated, you-name-it-ed since I was old enough to know that I was actually from a place called America.

This awareness became clear at the excellent school, Wilder Elementary, a G/T magnet-type school in Louisville, Kentucky in, you guessed it, the United States of America.

Memory is beginning to play tricks on me as to whether it was Ms. Rose's 2nd-grade class or Ms. Nievues' (note to self: need to check the spelling of her name...) 3rd-grade class that this became a startling self-awareness and realization.

Ultimately, it does not matter which, for the kids in the class did not change. The point was that we learned about where people really came from, like Poland or India, and not just from Brownsboro Farms or Whispering Hills. Shagufta B. (name withheld for privacy) was really from India, as in first generation. That blew my mind. A land completely on the other side of the globe. Thunk.

Then, being a much more urbane and cosmopolitan 4th grader and a bit more nonplussed about the ways of the world, (how could I ever have been a lowly 3rd grader...) Ms. Bell, on whom I had kid crush, gave me a book by Philip Nolan called The Man Without a Country about a Civil War soldier who was condemned to sail the world because he had wished to never hear the mention of the "United States" again.

Self-fulfilling prophecy, or a teacher with a keen insight.

However, do not despair, Ladies and Gentlemen, for, I am an American.

And, this blog is for my thoughts on that concept of being an American, in a Sense, abroad, though also on just being American in general as well.

Enjoy.