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America, USA, OK, AlrightSupergarage4 July 2006 |
A number of years ago—April 14, 1981 to be exact—I was in Athens, Greece on the tail end of a whirlwind spring break tour that had taken me through five countries in three weeks. I had arrived in Athens a few days earlier specifically to meet a friend from high school. When I got to our agreed upon meeting place; the Athens Youth Hostel, I found the place in a shambles. It looked like a bomb had just gone off in the lobby… probably because a bomb had just gone off in the adjacent building. The twisted frames of bunk beds and cheap wooden furniture lay piled on the sidewalk amidst glittering piles of broken glass. Blackened mattresses were leaning up against the alley wall. I can't recall who was claiming responsibility or what the supposed motivation had been, but I do remember thinking I hadn't survived Belfast to get blown up in Greece, and also pondering who would be so callous as to target a building so close to something as benign as a youth hostel. (Admittedly, these weren't profound thoughts on my part, but it was my first-ever up close and personal experience with that kind of violence and mentality). Remarkably, in spite of the mess, the Youth Hostel was open for business and even had room for me and a bed I could sleep in…
The next day I returned from sightseeing eager to spruce up for a “night on the town.” On the way to the men's dorm I passed the communal TV lounge. A large, international group of fellow travelers was gathered around the set. From the doorway I couldn't see what was on the screen because the huddle was so big. “What's going on?” I asked, nosing through the crowd to catch a glimpse of the screen. In broken English somebody informed me that the first US Space Shuttle Columbia, was about to land. The reception wasn't great and the reporter's commentary was delivered in the hushed tones of a televised golf tournament. A televised Greek golf tournament. On the screen, at the long end of a telephoto lens, the runway shimmered in the heat haze. The reporter's voice suddenly rose in excitement and volume as the shuttle dipped into view, elegantly glided across the tarmac, and gently touched down. The whole room erupted into cheers and congratulatory high-fives all around — like Mission Control does in all the movies whenever it celebrates a job well done. On the television screen, the image of the shuttle rolling down the runway was superimposed with a billowing image of the US flag and the Star Spangled Banner was mixed lightly under the reporter's voice. I remember thinking that I couldn't recall the last time it had felt so good and so right to be an American. The billowing stars and stripes were beautiful and they made me feel proud and strong and connected to something good.
I wish there were more moments like that in our lives nowadays.
The next day I returned from sightseeing eager to spruce up for a “night on the town.” On the way to the men's dorm I passed the communal TV lounge. A large, international group of fellow travelers was gathered around the set. From the doorway I couldn't see what was on the screen because the huddle was so big. “What's going on?” I asked, nosing through the crowd to catch a glimpse of the screen. In broken English somebody informed me that the first US Space Shuttle Columbia, was about to land. The reception wasn't great and the reporter's commentary was delivered in the hushed tones of a televised golf tournament. A televised Greek golf tournament. On the screen, at the long end of a telephoto lens, the runway shimmered in the heat haze. The reporter's voice suddenly rose in excitement and volume as the shuttle dipped into view, elegantly glided across the tarmac, and gently touched down. The whole room erupted into cheers and congratulatory high-fives all around — like Mission Control does in all the movies whenever it celebrates a job well done. On the television screen, the image of the shuttle rolling down the runway was superimposed with a billowing image of the US flag and the Star Spangled Banner was mixed lightly under the reporter's voice. I remember thinking that I couldn't recall the last time it had felt so good and so right to be an American. The billowing stars and stripes were beautiful and they made me feel proud and strong and connected to something good.
I wish there were more moments like that in our lives nowadays.
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The Happy Medium Song of the Day is “America, USA, OK, Alright” by Supergarage. Happy 4th of July.
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Supergarage
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