Interesting.....accident? A car hitting me as I cross the street is an accident.
My fathers family came here the 1750s to work for the crown then fight against it, his mothers family fled Ireland at the turn of the century for opportunity available here, my mothers father was born in Poland yet came here through Ellis Island to have a better life, my mothers mothers family was German/Polish...lost their land in one of the many eurpoean wars and fled here to get a new start in the 1880s, My girlfriend Loris' family fled Italy during the pre WWI economic crisis to come here for greater opportunities. None of those actions were accidents. They were decisions made in a effort to better themselves and their family.
I am proud of their work and I am grateful that their actions, decisions and hard work made it possible for me to be born in this country. None of that was an accident.
Dear David,
You must surely know the phrase, "an accident of birth". Through an "accident of birth" my brother has dual Maltese and British nationality (born in Malta to British parents, father serving in Royal Navy). YOU personally had nothing to do with where YOU were born. By all means be proud of what your forebears did, but pride in
where you were born? That's pretty weird and irrational.
And I know it is. As I said in another post, I'm glad to be a Cornishman, and feel sorry for others who do not have that good fortune. As soon as I examine my own feelings, though, I can see that for the joke that it is. We are all capable of irrationality. It's just that some of us are also capable of recognizing it when we think about it.
Even when I was a child, the following R.L. Stevenson poem from the 19th century was regarded as a textbook example of how silly it is to imagine that our own society is the
summa summarum of the world.
LITTLE Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee,
O! don’t you wish that you were me?
You have seen the scarlet trees
And the lions over seas;
You have eaten ostrich eggs,
And turned the turtles off their legs.
Such a life is very fine,
But it’s not so nice as mine:
You must often, as you trod,
Have wearied, not to be abroad.
You have curious things to eat,
I am fed on proper meat;
You must dwell beyond the foam,
But I am safe and live at home.
Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,
Little frosty Eskimo,
Little Turk or Japanee,
O! don’t you wish that you were me?
Finally, the whole idea of "leaving for a better life in America" can quite easily be turned on its head. Perhaps there are those who are proud that their ancestors didn't run away to a foreign country, but stayed and built the nations in which they were born. Put like that, it sounds like an insult. But then, "America is the greatest" can sound like an insult too, if it carries the implication that all other nations are inferior.
Cheers,
R.