While most will vote along party lines in November, there are a few brave souls that will vote for the candidate that they feel can change the face of our struggling country regardless of political affiliations. From the outside looking in, foreign nations probably chuckle, feeling no sympathy this current hole we have dug for ourselves. We are an arrogant nation, after all, and need to take a good, long look in the mirror. I did, and for the first time in my life, I have doubts that I live in the best country in the world.

What America Was

Apple pie. Baseball. The Cleavers. Military heroes. Farmland. Family operated businesses. Melting pot. The American Dream. Trust. Community. Pride. Belief in your leaders. At one time, America was a place for dreamers. Anyone could come to America from anywhere and make something of himself, giving his family a better life for generations to come. Parents told their children that they could grow up to be whatever they wanted to be, and they meant it. Sports fans cheered for their favorite athletes without reservation, knowing that their accomplishments came from hard work and a love for the game. Families could make a living running their own businesses and not have to worry about the new Wal-Mart in town. And, more importantly, citizens did not question the acts of our President. Foolish? Maybe, but ignorance is bliss. Americans didn’t have to question him. Whether we voted for him or not, we trusted him, and believed that he would act in the best interests of our country.

And Should Be

If you read my other blog, Life in the Key of Joe, you know of my trip to Guinan’s Pub and Country Store. Nestled between the train tracks and Hudson River in beautiful Garrison, NY, this “Little Chapel on the River” closed its doors this past January after serving as the town’s social center since the 1950s. While its closing may seem insignificant to some, for me, it marks the end of an era. The America I grew up with has taken a leave absence, and I don’t care much for her replacement. One can only hope that it is temporary.

We dodged children sucking on orange cream sodas and eating candy bars while the gentleman behind the counter helped them properly count their money in order to make payment. He could have easily done it for them, but then the children wouldn’t have learned from the experience. While this was going on, three women were waiting at the deli counter for sandwiches. A local patron, who was nursing a Coors Light at the bar quickly made his way into the country store, hopped behind the counter and threw on an apron without reservation. He tended to the ladies with a smile, engaging them in conversation about where they traveled from to visit the pub. He was not an employee or a Guinan. He was a faithful patron, ready to lend a hand when the family needed it most. It turns out, after reading author Gwendolyn Bounds’s experiences at the pub that this has been going on for quite some time now. Anyone who could volunteer his time was more than welcome to work at the pub. Volunteers were just that, and happy to do it without pay. This was after all, their home, too.

America is our home, and it's time to remodel it.