We are Creating Another Breed of American

Mrs. Braebrooke, our classroom teacher, rolled down a map of the world from its anchorage on the ceiling. The width of the map stretched almost across the room. She held a long thin cane in her hand, similar to one dad might tie up tomatoes, and pointed to a large landmass. “This is the New World,” she said, "popularly thought to have been discovered by Colombus, for the Spanish Crown, looking for a new shipping route to Asia, over here.” The point of the cane slid across the vinyl and stopped with a hard tap, and then slid back again. "Today this land is known as America."

Mrs. Braebrooke again slapped the fabric with the cane, focusing my attention, and bringing an end to my daydream more focused on the sunny day outside. She then slid the cane all the way across the map to point to a small island. “This is the British Isles, and here,” she said, tapping the map several times with the point of the cane, “is Scotland, our home.”

There was other stuff, foolish king, presidents, slavery, civil war, ending with America’s role in the modern world, all of it less attractive than out the window. But the lesson learned then, and that remains true today, is America is a vast country, wealthy and powerful, and Scotland is insignificant.

I soon forgot about America. Then came October 1962. I was thirteen years old. Dad celebrated his 40th birthday, which is why I remember it being October.

Dad was a peaceful man, not worldly, having left Scotland but one time in his search to adopt a child, me. We’d all been in the pub that weekend, celebrating. Dad played the accordion, being masterful with the instrument. It was always a popular night with the locals, village friends really. Pretty soon, the place was bouncing. Truly, I mean, it was spectacular.

The women danced still wearing pinafores, their hair in curlers, and fishermen stamping their feet on the floorboards, thumping fists on tables and singing. Dad told me that even husky voices need to sing. I mean, how is it possible to make one understand it was a joy like you never heard. Music flying up into the rafters, escaping out the windows, bringing people shoulder-to-shoulder, cheek-to-cheek, heart-to-heart. Dad was a powerful man, mentally and physically, as good a man as I ever knew; a hundred-point-man.

It was late when we got home, after midnight. Mum chased me off to bed with a hug. I didn’t go right off to sleep, too excited, I guess. It was the first and the only time I ever heard dad sobbing. I returned quietly down the stairs. They were listening to the news on the old valve radio. I was just a boy, but I felt the tears burning in dad’s eyes.

I did not know what to say, how to make him understand and feel that I was there for him, a weakling of a boy. Mum saw me at the door and came and took hold of me. Dad was dabbing his eyes with a hanky. The voice on the radio was severe, speaking in a grave tone.

Mum spoke to dad: “I love you, Frank, I don’t want us to die. I want us to live. Maybe this is the end, and I’m afraid. Do you hear me, Frank?”

Dad pulled both of us to him, “God willing, I will be with you, in your heart, your soul, and we will pass together my loves,” he said.

Such a night has remained with me all my life. The colossal power of America coming close to war with another great power. It would be a nuclear confrontation. America the great, all-powerful, and Scotland, irrelevant, the home of my family, and dad honestly believed it would be the end. Dad, a fisherman, never hurt anyone, thought we would die, for what? He did not know.

War was avoided, coming to the brink. Powerful men were playing chess with millions of lives.

How great, how powerful, how wealthy is America today? Did I ever imagine a day when I would live in America? Of course not. But now that I do, what is different?

Today America is the most incredible sadness on Earth when thinking what it could have and failed to become. America has been good to me; why else would I care? I do care. I care that the average American teenager is geographically ignorant. Seven out of ten could not point to a European city on a map the size Mrs. Braebrook used sixty years ago. They do know the countries America has been to war with. They also believe every war was won by them.

I don’t have the figures for how many adults in America could explain what a democratic society is or how it could fail. The high school teenager knows about 9/11 but nothing about Pearl Harbour.

I spoke to a young man; Luke was his name. He comes each Friday to keep the garden straight, but snow had fallen. I wanted to pay him nonetheless and brought him inside. Then, somehow, we got to talking about Ukraine.

“It’s always the damn Russians causing trouble in the world.” This young, thoughtful man was oblivious to Ukraine and how it came to be. When I asked if he studied history in school, he said, “Only American history.”

Luke is far from dumb; he is intelligent, quick to like, and terrifically hard-working. The lad earns every cent twice over. But unfortunately, the education he receives is failing him. Badly!

“Do you see yourself, traveling? Luke,” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” he said, I’m joining the Marines at eighteen.”

“How old are you now? Sixteen, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” he says, sharply, proudly.

“You’re not afraid of going to war?”

“I’m not afraid to die, none of us can live forever. One of my friends, his dad died in Vietnam. Without those guys, we wouldn’t have won.”

Luke is convinced, absolutely, that the Vietnam war was a victory. However, he did not know who the Vietnamese were at war with.

By the way, I believe Luke is not afraid to die. I’ve seen the way he rides a motorcycle.

I recalled, as we spoke, the tears in dad’s eyes when learning about the Cuban missile crisis and the Soviet ships steaming toward a U.S. blockade. It would surely end in world destruction. One big K backed down from the other big K.

I tempted him with the Trump question. “No one is going to mess with us while Trump is President. The world knows Biden isn’t in charge. It’s all the rhinos trying to stuff him. It won’t work. The people will rise up again,” he said, not shy about where his allegiance lay.

“Do you think the world is a safer place, Luke, with Trump in charge?”

“For sure. He doesn’t back down. Look at what Biden is doing, playing with soft toys. We need to hit these countries hard. We need more nukes, not less, and no gays in the army.”

That last remark stung. Having several gay friends, more educated, more robust, and successful.

There’s no reason not to like Luke. But unfortunately, his country is letting him down, and with an autocrat in charge of his education one can only fear, the way dad feared.

We are raising another breed of American.