Bein' American

Going to pick up the girls’ new passports from the US embassy in Beijing was, in part, the impetus for our Mid-November trip.

It’s always something I find fascinating about Beijing… being in the general embassy area… with flags of all countries announcing each individual Embassy … the serious, stone faced guards who stand at attention outside. The whole world condensed into a few blocks of a city.… It seems you could play on loop the the soundtrack of It’s a small world after all on these avenues and street corners: the globe within one city district.

But, to my surprise, I found quite another song running through my head.

When we rolled up to the US Embassy, I was amazed to see just how many people where thronging around the perimeter of the building. With thermoses of loose green tea to warm hands and souls, and exhausted newspapers tucked under their arm, they were waiting… each one of them nervously waiting… for someone else who was waiting inside to apply for a visa to the US. The number of people inside… queuing with bundles of paperwork, and somber, serious faces, was equally staggering. When we looked down from the second story, where we were efficiently in and out of American Citizen Services in about 10 minutes, we saw the line slowly snake forward. Mr. Johnson asked the cleaning lady about it, and she told him every day the line was this long. Many people would have to go home and come back tomorrow.

Maybe it was these images of people so eager to get into my passport country, or maybe it was just the sight of the Stars and Stripes unfurled against the unnatural color of the Beijing sky, but I found myself humming. (Side note: I often find myself humming. My kids are frequently irritated that I have a tendency to break into song, or hum… especially if I’m using it as a device to help them memorize something… but in my defense it works… Spelling words, Christmas pieces, Bible verses for Sunday school, and most recently all 50 of the United States put into a made-up song.)

But I wasn't humming the Maine, New Hampshire & Vermont song (what Bei Bei has dubbed our song of the 50 states—the one she now requests at bedtime… which leads me to believe only 2/3 of my children find this habit of mine irritating!)

Shortly after I snapped the above picture of our three daughters under the emblem of Embassy of the United States of America, I was humming, I realized, I’m proud to be an American. From where in my subconscious I pulled this is unknown… I do remember my parents owning and playing this song on a cassette tape of patriotic music (the cassette had a quartet of men in 1980s mullets and matching sweaters).

Again, maybe it was the sight of our nation’s flag, flown freely on a flag pole in the heart of Socialist Beijing. Maybe it was realizing the ease at which we flashed our passports and gained access to the building. Maybe it was simply the overwhelming number of people hoping to also gain legal access to our country.

I’m NOT partial to country music, the word “ain’t”, Palin-like nomenclature that is inclined toward “droppin’ the ‘g’” off the end of words with ing endin’s, or throwing around “lucky stars,” or “God Bless the USA” in a NASCAR context. But, that smoggy day, under the coal dust skies of Beijing, those were the words that accompanied the music, which came to my mind, in front of the Embassy of the United States!

If tomorrow all the things were gone, I’d worked for all my life.
And I had to start again, with just my children and my wife.

I’d thank my lucky stars, to be livin here today.
‘ Cause the flag still stands for freedom, and they can’t take that away.

That I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free.
And I won’t forget the men who died, who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up, next to you and defend her still today.
‘Cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land, God bless the USA.

--Lee Greenwood, circa the early 1980s