The World Keeps Turning: The many faces of America

I’m generally not a fan of speeches at political conventions. The long list of speakers preaches to the choir when they need to reach a broader congregation. They feel free to make extravagant promises without specifics or programs to support them. Many will need to see an orthopedic doctor for elbow or shoulder problems resulting from overuse in patting themselves on the back.

There have been a few notable exceptions: Mario Cuomo pointed to both the strength and weaknesses of America in 1984 by describing A Tale of Two Cities; Bill Clinton named himself A Man from Hope in 1992 (and soon proved himself a dinosaur of the past); and Barack Obama supported a positive future through The Audacity of Hope. They were, for me, inspiring speeches, but looking back, they highlight America’s rocky road and stumbling journey in pursuit of the ideals of the Declaration of Independence and Constitution.

As a writer, I’m very susceptible to words, especially if they approach poetry and are delivered passionately. They can illuminate our past, present, and future with a brilliant light that allows both discovery and remembrance. Some of the words at this year’s Democratic National Convention (DNC) brought back moments when the hope expressed by Cuomo, Clinton, and Obama seemed closer and more real than the “American carnage” we’ve seen in the political world over the last eight years.

But words accompanied by carefully chosen visual images are even more powerful. They are capable of moving me, and millions of others, to tears of both joy and sadness. Last week, their skillful combination brought warmth and peace to my heart because I felt they embodied the many faces of America.

The words invited everyone to the shelter of a big-tent party, while the images (some carefully curated, others more immediate and random) illustrated the joyous breadth of the American people. I found myself thinking, “This is what my America looks like: a patchwork multitude that varies in every way, except one. We are all believers in the American Dream.”

The images showed every shade of skin color; a few babies and toddlers, teens, Generations X, Y, and Z, and some solid golden-agers; Native Americans and every immigrant group that has sought a better life here; samples of religious identification such as yarmulkes, head scarves and shawls, Sikh turbans, and Christian crosses; people clearly identifying as male, female and in-between; proud farmers and cowboys alongside inner-city co-op dwellers; union members and hopeful entrepreneurs; those blessed with healthy minds and bodies and those facing extraordinary challenges. They represented some of the vast differences in the American people, while underscoring their love for America and dedication to the hard fight to make it better.

The presentation sparked memories of the past. (They weren’t from “the good old days” since I don’t believe in them. Rather, they reside in “the good old me:” less experienced and more willing and able to forget the ocean of misunderstanding and pain that surrounds my fragile island.) I saw visions of gatherings I attended protesting the Vietnam War and supporting social justice, and recalled my second-hand impressions of the 250,000 people on the Mall in 1963 to hear Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. deliver the speech of our lifetime. I felt the strength of people accepting, even celebrating, their differences to create an America that lives up to the promise of the Statue of Liberty and marches ahead — We’re not going back! — through the messy battleground of democracy with eyes still on the prize: a more perfect union.

I was reluctant to abandon this dreamworld, but I had to awaken to our modern realities. Some Republicans want to make America into a Christian theocracy, even though the Founding Fathers were terrified at the thought after witnessing the deadly attacks and persecution by the churches that ruled England and Europe at the time. Some believe that America needs to isolate itself politically, militarily, and socially from the wider world and trust in the upper, upper class, with a ruler immune from common laws, to do what’s right for everyday citizens.

But the DNC speeches and images spoke to an America of our dreams, in which children are not “judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character,” where they can proudly reinforce their dreams by repeating “Yes, we can!”, and where hope is nurtured by parents, schools, and communities. It’s an unrealistic vision, but I believe high aspirations are a springboard for pursuing our dreams.

Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com