What Makes America, America?

[rebeccajo 14]

What makes America?

Oh....about 300,000,000 people or so.

About 99% of which have no lineage to the original ethnic population of the land mass at the time it was settled.

A country comprised pretty much of the descendants of invaders and immigrants.

[one...two...tree 2,762]

God forbid anyone draw the conclusion that that must mean you hate America.

Never realized that talking about improving something equated to hating it.

...and yet, interestingly, you feel confident in forming the opinion that others who talk of 'improving' something must mean they hate America.

[w¡n9Nµ7 §£@¥€r 123]

Quarter-million dollar parking spots

Times Square

Wall Street

The Mob

[one...two...tree 2,762]

What makes America?

Oh....about 300,000,000 people or so.

About 99% of which have no lineage to the original ethnic population of the land mass at the time it was settled.

A country comprised pretty much of the descendants of invaders and immigrants.

Amen, sister.

[trueimage 0]

cowboy cadillacs and lowrider classics..............and HARLEY DAVIDSON!!!!!!!!

[Heracles 417]

What makes America?

Oh....about 300,000,000 people or so.

About 99% of which have no lineage to the original ethnic population of the land mass at the time it was settled.

A country comprised pretty much of the descendants of invaders and immigrants.

What gives the original descendants the sole right to this land?

Scientists have found that the original descendants where actually Europeans who crossed over the Atlantic during the ice age.

PS There is a difference between legal and invited immigrants to illegal. Much like the difference between a guest to a robber in my house.

Edited July 13, 2007 by Infidel

[one...two...tree 2,762]

This is an excellent read for anyone interested...

http://www.psichi.org/pubs/articles/article_145.asp

Marginality in a Pluralistic Society

by Billie Davis - Evangel College

(excerpt...)

What makes real people?

Before I was seven years old I asked my father that question.

"What's the matter with you?" my dad asked in response. "What kind of notion is that--real people?"

"People that live in houses," I tried to explain. "People that stay together in towns."

I was expressing in a child's blunt language the basic questions of theology, philosophy, and psychology. What is human? How do people become what they are? And the original questions of sociology. Questions of social organization and disorganization. How and why do people form groups? How and why do they get disconnected? How can they get together?

My family was among an original American homeless category, called migrant workers. We traveled in a battered car throughout the western half of the United States, harvesting fruits and vegetables, and peddling novelties from door to door.

I was born in the hopyards of Oregon, and with the seasons and years we followed the crops over routes later known as "migrant streams." We slept in the car, or in a tent. Sometimes there were rows of one-room shacks provided by the growers, and sometimes strictly supervised government camps.

I saw my mother stand at the edge of a field with a dead baby in her arms. Someone reported us to the sheriff. He said he would try to get a federal agent to help us. He couldn't give permission to bury the baby in his county because we were nonresidents. I knew there was big depression, and every town was trying to keep the bums out. I heard my Dad say the government is full of graft, that rich people work the poor to death and then kick them in the teeth; and a poor man's got no chance. Sometimes he said he was just fed up with doing the rich man's dirty work, so we made willow baskets and paper flowers to sell. The earliest thing I can remember is selling baskets and flowers. Dad told me to go up one side of a street and back down the other throughout the neighborhoods, knocking at each house and entering each place of business, saying, "Would you like to buy a basket? They are 25 cents apiece."

.......

My training as a basket peddler gave me almost unique advantages. I was compelled to talk to strangers and walk into strange buildings. I knew I was different and did not belong in the way of real people. Yet I had a kind of claim, as the homeless do, to the streets and public areas. I examined buildings and school grounds, tried out the swings, peeked into the windows. I was more curious than afraid. The paradox was that while I did not belong I was in a better position than most children to understand the concept of community.

I discovered for myself the free public library, the church with its marvelous Sunday school, and schools. I wanted to go to school to learn to read and get a town job and live in a house. Schools were free and attendance laws made me feel I would not be turned away. Finally, two years later than most children I had my opportunity.

Ironically, after I started going to school I became even more alienated. Now I was a kind of traitor to my own people. My parents, threatened in their position as I made ideals of the teachers, scoffed and ridiculed and even punished me. I was scolded for saying "thank you" in that highfalutin way, trying to act like those nasty nice school teachers. I was slapped for saying "ain't" was a wrong word, and sent to bed for putting ideas into the heads of the little ones. The migrant kids called me smarty and stuck-up because I liked school and would not join in picking up cigarette butts.

At school I was a curiosity. Older than my classmates and accomplished in some areas beyond any of them, I was behind where it counted most. I had to guess at the material they had covered before I arrived. They told in oral reports of music and dancing lessons. They baked cookies, competed in talent shows, drew pictures, and knew the names of movie stars.

In my early years I knew nothing of life in a house. Constantly I stumbled over such terms in lessons and tests as: windowsill, curtain rod, cabinets, highboy, lavatory, drawer pull, mantle, casters, ladle, light switch. We had no electric lights except in government camps, where they were turned on and off from a main switch. We never had a telephone, vacuum sweeper, washer, toaster, refrigerator, radio, or floor lamp. We never had a private bathroom, or a kitchen sink, or an oven. I never owned a tricycle, bicycle, or pets. We did not go on vacations, have company, take lessons, or pack luggage. We had no front yard, back yard, next door, or neighborhood. We did not sweep or shovel walks. We had no shelves, attic, cellar, or basement. For years I owned no hairbrush, toothbrush, nail file, or pajamas.

[rebeccajo 14]

What makes America?

Oh....about 300,000,000 people or so.

About 99% of which have no lineage to the original ethnic population of the land mass at the time it was settled.

A country comprised pretty much of the descendants of invaders and immigrants.

What gives the original descendants the sole right to this land?

Scientists have found that the original descendants where actually Europeans who crossed over the Atlantic during the ice age.

PS There is a difference between legal and invited immigrants to illegal. Much like the difference between a guest to a robber in my house.

Read me please. What I wrote. I said the original ethnic population at the time our nation was settled, which would have been American Indians. Did they invite the white man?

[trueimage 0]

This is an excellent read for anyone interested...

http://www.psichi.org/pubs/articles/article_145.asp

Marginality in a Pluralistic Society

by Billie Davis - Evangel College

(excerpt...)

What makes real people?

Before I was seven years old I asked my father that question.

"What's the matter with you?" my dad asked in response. "What kind of notion is that--real people?"

"People that live in houses," I tried to explain. "People that stay together in towns."

I was expressing in a child's blunt language the basic questions of theology, philosophy, and psychology. What is human? How do people become what they are? And the original questions of sociology. Questions of social organization and disorganization. How and why do people form groups? How and why do they get disconnected? How can they get together?

My family was among an original American homeless category, called migrant workers. We traveled in a battered car throughout the western half of the United States, harvesting fruits and vegetables, and peddling novelties from door to door.

I was born in the hopyards of Oregon, and with the seasons and years we followed the crops over routes later known as "migrant streams." We slept in the car, or in a tent. Sometimes there were rows of one-room shacks provided by the growers, and sometimes strictly supervised government camps.

I saw my mother stand at the edge of a field with a dead baby in her arms. Someone reported us to the sheriff. He said he would try to get a federal agent to help us. He couldn't give permission to bury the baby in his county because we were nonresidents. I knew there was big depression, and every town was trying to keep the bums out. I heard my Dad say the government is full of graft, that rich people work the poor to death and then kick them in the teeth; and a poor man's got no chance. Sometimes he said he was just fed up with doing the rich man's dirty work, so we made willow baskets and paper flowers to sell. The earliest thing I can remember is selling baskets and flowers. Dad told me to go up one side of a street and back down the other throughout the neighborhoods, knocking at each house and entering each place of business, saying, "Would you like to buy a basket? They are 25 cents apiece."

.......

My training as a basket peddler gave me almost unique advantages. I was compelled to talk to strangers and walk into strange buildings. I knew I was different and did not belong in the way of real people. Yet I had a kind of claim, as the homeless do, to the streets and public areas. I examined buildings and school grounds, tried out the swings, peeked into the windows. I was more curious than afraid. The paradox was that while I did not belong I was in a better position than most children to understand the concept of community.

I discovered for myself the free public library, the church with its marvelous Sunday school, and schools. I wanted to go to school to learn to read and get a town job and live in a house. Schools were free and attendance laws made me feel I would not be turned away. Finally, two years later than most children I had my opportunity.

Ironically, after I started going to school I became even more alienated. Now I was a kind of traitor to my own people. My parents, threatened in their position as I made ideals of the teachers, scoffed and ridiculed and even punished me. I was scolded for saying "thank you" in that highfalutin way, trying to act like those nasty nice school teachers. I was slapped for saying "ain't" was a wrong word, and sent to bed for putting ideas into the heads of the little ones. The migrant kids called me smarty and stuck-up because I liked school and would not join in picking up cigarette butts.

At school I was a curiosity. Older than my classmates and accomplished in some areas beyond any of them, I was behind where it counted most. I had to guess at the material they had covered before I arrived. They told in oral reports of music and dancing lessons. They baked cookies, competed in talent shows, drew pictures, and knew the names of movie stars.

In my early years I knew nothing of life in a house. Constantly I stumbled over such terms in lessons and tests as: windowsill, curtain rod, cabinets, highboy, lavatory, drawer pull, mantle, casters, ladle, light switch. We had no electric lights except in government camps, where they were turned on and off from a main switch. We never had a telephone, vacuum sweeper, washer, toaster, refrigerator, radio, or floor lamp. We never had a private bathroom, or a kitchen sink, or an oven. I never owned a tricycle, bicycle, or pets. We did not go on vacations, have company, take lessons, or pack luggage. We had no front yard, back yard, next door, or neighborhood. We did not sweep or shovel walks. We had no shelves, attic, cellar, or basement. For years I owned no hairbrush, toothbrush, nail file, or pajamas.

now i feel selfish

[one...two...tree 2,762]

now i feel selfish

I feel grateful. This to me is what makes America, America...different people, different experiences, different points of view...yet we are share in a commonality.

[trueimage 0]

I see your point

[rebeccajo 14]

now i feel selfish

I feel grateful. This to me is what makes America, America...different people, different experiences, different points of view...yet we are share in a commonality.

Steven are ya drinkin'? Your typing is messed up...........

Edited July 13, 2007 by rebeccajo

[Mr. Big Dog 10,747]

America is all about bible freaks shouting in the Senate.

[Lou Lou 1]

HFCS!

That was my first thought too.

[Heracles 417]

Read me please. What I wrote. I said the original ethnic population at the time our nation was settled, which would have been American Indians. Did they invite the white man?

Why is it their land to invite us? because they where here first.

As I said before the first people on this continent where actually Europeans who arrived here during the ice age.