Have you ever read a book about Italian teenagers, French adolescents, or any other sociological pact? I suppose the exact culture is of no significance because upon reading the words, one had to recognize the culture. Over my young life, I've met people from many nations from every continent. Meeting someone from a different culture, the first question is undoubtedly "So, what's it like?"
The usual response: "Good" but if one follows given details and pries deeper, they're sure to give a decent explanation in short order.
One of the downers about being American is that it's impossible to define. When I was eleven-years-old my parents sent me to an international camp in the Faroe Islands. My delegation consisted of 2 boys, 2 girls, and an adult leader named Wendy Dietrich. We met with delegations from eleven other countries and lived together in an empty school house. It was standard camp fare except each delegation had to throw a "Country Night"--garish affairs that featured national foods, icons, and costuming. If I recall correctly, I played Elvis, snaring my lip to the heavens in tribute to the man. At the last night of camp, we were supposed to trade national costumes with each other. People flocked to the Germans and Brazilians but no one wanted the American national costume--in my case a Junior Seau jersey and blue jeans.
No one wanted the American National Costume. It wasn't because they were Raiders fans and hated the idea of bringing home the jersey of a Charger. As a culture, America is damned big and really far outreaching. So much so, it makes it impossible to define. According to people of other country's they think of LeBron, Britney, and other high-glossified paragons.
It's very easy to define a culture outside one's own...
The French smoke cigarettes.
The Italians drink wine.
The Japanese buy soiled panties from vending machines.
But when it comes to defining my own nation, my own sociological identity, I come to a blank. Everyone in my circle feels slightly lost and even more confused. For the youth of a nation, we sure are a mournful sort. I pay attention to myself and the faces I see. From what I gather, everyone's a little out of place and longing to belong.
What is American? Well, there's no answer for this outside our best and brightest but I'm pretty sure my last 72 hours do the trick.
2/5/09
Union Station--Chicago
3:00PM
I wait for a cross country train from Chicago to Los Angeles when a woman, Michelle, strikes up conversation. She prods into my life.
I tell her I'm "kind of a writer".
She says "You should help me write a newsletter for my ministry".
I tell her "I'm a heathen".
She says "The bible is full of converted heathens."
I tell her "Spiritually speaking, I feel as if I'm alone in a void. This sounds bad but it isn't. it makes me feel very much at home. Late at night, I feel totally alone and totally at peace. I want to laugh at how silly the world is."
She says: "The Bible is full of funny things."
She'll never understand and never lay off.
4:00 PM
A delay is announced. I turn to the Amish behind me and say "You'd never get a delay with a buggy." They laugh. It is the most rewarding laugh I've ever received. There are 12 people in the Amish group. 6 men and 6 women. There are 5 married couples. The other gendered grouping is engaged. They hold hands CONSTANTLY.
First Night on the Train.
Start talking football and make friends because I'm a Lions fan and people pity that. We try to learn a card game from the Amish. We fail miserably. We start drinking, play cards. My train friend, Andrew says "We should hook up with these chicks. I've got the Jewish one, you get the redhead."
"I'm not into that."
"Why not."
"I'm in a serious relationship" I lie.
The younger girl doesn't stop talking. I go to sleep on the floor. I wake up two seperate times during the night. RThe first time, I see Andrew making out with the younger girl. The second time, I see him making out with the red head.
He is a retired chef at 25. He feels very good about this. It shows. Evewry sentiment speaks of braggadocio. I fear the trials of being too self-aggrandizing and am quiet the entire night. The others tell me "Joel, you're really quiet and obscure aren't you?" Inside my head I laugh.
At 6:00 am I'm awoken and sent to my seat to sleep.
The Next Day
I go downstairs, start reading Richard Price, and watch New Mexico tick by. An older woman starts talking to me. "I heard you were a writer" she tells "I'm a writer too". She explains her seven part novel to me. It ends with a Gorilla giving birth to the son of Julius Caesar in Hell, Michigan. I ask why a Gorilla would birth such a gaudy spawn. She says "To devolve it."
Later, we invent a version of the card game War where the Wars are determined by all manner of feats--arm wrestling, dessert drawing, president race, etc.---
We get an hour off in Albequerque. Andrew and I run to a Liquor store and get lost. We are bound to miss the train and run down the street in fervent pursuit. A woman stops us and asks "Do you need a ride?"
She gives us a ride to the train station. Her PT Cruiser is filled with Kitty Liter. We make it back in time. I strike up conversation with four old ladies en route to a cruise. They tell me they can sing a song with any word I give them.
"Briss."
"What's a briss?"
"The Jewish rite of circumcision."
"We don't know any songs with that word."
They keep drinking and I keep watching.
That night...
I ask a man for a piece of chicken. He asks where I live. "Los Angeles" He breaks down the rivalry between the Bloods and Crips under the thesis of there's no such thing as a bad neighborhood. It's a good talk until the youth brigade interrupts. We play cards and dance to Michael Jackson played off of a cell phone. Good times.
I sleep on the floor again.
Next morning: I awake and go to walk home. Andrew says, "I need your contact info." He goes inside to get a pen and I run away. I walk five miles through all of Los Angeles--skid row, down town, Mexican neighborhoods, etc--before getting home and becoming young again.
I take a bath.
See friends.
Take a hike.
Eat Sandwiches.
Play basketball.
Do fun things.
Dance.
Dress funny.
Sing and make music.
Go to sleep happy.
That's it in a nutshell.
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