Letter To America

Winning Entry by odgemob

A letter to America.

Dear America,
You do not know me, but I know you.
At least, I feel like I do, although we have, technically, never met.
Whilst other countries were there to be discovered, (swimming my fingers over the globe with cries of "What's this country called Mummy? What's this one?") you were always there. America. Hulking there across the water. Our linguistic brothers. Our cultural cousins?

Sorry. Let me start again. Dear United States. That's what we really mean when we say America, at least on this side of the pond. When we say 'America' we do not mean Canada, or Mexico, or Columbia. We mean the U-S-A! U-S-A! Stars and stripes and stars again.

Growing up, my favourite characters spoke in your accents. The banality of my all girls, green-skirted secondary school could never live up to the vivid colours of your high-school movies. Cliques and jocks and cheerleaders and Hallowe'en parties, and endless corn fields to drive through as the sun goes down.

When my sister and I sang together we automatically put a twang in our words which didn't come from our parents' voices, but from the hope filled glamour of your skyscrapers.

My dad, talking about some of his childhood in Washington DC: "America was just such a great place to be a 12 year old boy!"

But later in the conversation "The thing is... so many Americans are just completely BARMY!"

"Daddd!" my sister and I whinge, embarrassed "Don't say that!"

"No but, really, no but REALLY!"

And when later I found myself part of a community of expats from all over the world suddenly your presence was even more pervasive.

"It's so AMERICAN here" I told my friends back home. But was it really? It was just different. Pep rallies. School mascots. Periods instead of full stops. Flash drives instead of memory sticks.

But no. It was more than that. It was South Africans talking about race in your terms; Kenyans building their jokes on your idioms; Germans who had learnt English through watching boxsets of 'Friends' and 'How I met your Mother'. America somehow linked us all, an un-voiced something we had in common, an unofficial point of reference.

My friend Aidan, after a politics class once said in his usual dry fashion:
"Oh man. I always feel so awkward being the only American in that class...because, I mean, everyone just hates America. I kind of feel guilty..."

Do they? Maybe.

Is America the country that the rest of the world loves to hate? Sure, we can laugh at you, blame you, call you barmy all we want, yet our own identities are so intertwined with yours that we cannot completely separate ourselves. We cannot bring ourselves to look away.

Maybe that's why we're all watching you now. More than ever before. Aware of our differences; aware of our similarities; wrinkling our eyebrows; saying "Goodness me!"

My friends in rural England share clips of your presidential debates on Facebook; my university classmates strut around imitating your republican candidate, "We're gonna build a wallll," they say in some terrible faux-Texas drawl.

A French satirical TV show has a section every day where it reports on the build up to the U.S election.
They introduce this section with footage of hamburger eating competitions; gun shooting girls in bikinis; child beauty pageants and Britney Spears, with little arrows pointing to these stereotypes and then the caption: "ILS vont décider qui va être le maître du monde"
It's tongue in cheek. But the words ring true. "THEY are going to decide who becomes the ruler of the world."

An elderly teacher in Zanzibar discusses with concern whether "Trumpf" will get in.
He says he thinks he will. Because the Americans aren't ready to elect a woman president yet. When asked how he knows he says he lived there. Lived there for six months but didn't make one friend. Because you know what counts as 'friendly' in America? Waving at someone in the street. Yup. That's it. A wave. Not like Zanzibar. Zanzibar hapana hapana. Not like that at all.

So, USA, for better or for worse, the world awaits.
Goodnight, and God bless America.

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Featured Entry by Sirona

In their own words
A found poem, constructed from quotes from some of the key figures in the US Presidential Election 2016

Bill

A lot of presidential memoirs,
they say,
are dull and self-serving.
I hope mine is interesting and self-serving.
“I did not”
The new rage is to say that
the government
is the cause of all our problems,
and
if only we had no government,
we'd have no problems.
“have"
In a world with no systems,
with chaos,
everything becomes a
guerilla struggle.
“Sexual relations with that woman.”
I believe I'm a better authority
than anybody else
in America
on my own wife.
(I misled people
(including even my wife)
(I deeply regret that)

Hillary

Forgiveness is a way of
opening up the doors again
and
moving forward.
“No more secrecy”
People can judge me
for what I’ve done.
“No more zone of privacy”
If I want to
knock
a story
off the front page,
I just change my hairstyle.
“After all, what good did that do for me?
It was a mistake
to use my personal email
and
I would not do it again
(I suppose I could have stayed home)
(and baked cookies)
(and had teas)

Barack

All of us take
offense
to anyone who
reaps the rewards
of living in America
without taking on the
responsibilities
of living in America.
“I don't care whether you're driving a hybrid or an SUV”
We need to steer clear of this
poverty of ambition,
where people want to
drive fancy cars
and wear nice clothes
and live in nice apartments
but don't want to work hard
to accomplish these things.
“If you're headed for a cliff”
In the end, that's what
this election
is about.
“you have to change direction”
Do we participate in a
politics of cynicism
or a
politics of hope?
(I just miss)
(I miss)
(being anonymous)

Michelle

We learned about
honesty
and
Integrity
that the truth matters.
“Find people”
We learned about
dignity
and
decency
that how hard you work
matters more
than
how much you make.
“who will”
If my future were
determined
just by my performance
on a
standardized test,
I wouldn't be here.
“make you better. “
I can’t believe that
I’m saying that
a candidate for president
of the
United States
has bragged about
sexually
assaulting
women.
(It’s cruel)
(And it’s frightening)
(and the truth is, it hurts)

Melania

I am not a
yes
person.
“You cannot change a person.”
No matter who
you are married to,
you still need to
lead your life.
”Let them be.”
I'm very
political.
I'm not political in public,
I'm political
at home.
“Let them be the way they are.”
I don't have a
nanny.
I have a chef,
and I have my
assistant,
and that's it.
I do it myself.
(You know)
(To marry a man like Donald
(you need to know who you are)

Donald

You know,
it really doesn’t matter
what the media write
as long as you’ve got a
young,
and beautiful,
piece of ass.
“When Mexico sends its people,”
I’ve never said
I’m a perfect person,
nor pretended to be
someone that I’m not.
“they’re not sending the best”
The beauty of me
is that I’m
very
rich
“They’re bringing crime.”
My IQ is
one of the highest
and you all know it!
Please don’t feel
so stupid or
insecure
it’s not your fault.
(Anyone who knows me)
(knows these words)
(don’t reflect who I am.)


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Featured Entry by quietmandave

Dear Claudia,

It must be twenty five years ago, possibly to the day. I remember we had made our way out from Boston to spend a few days in the Berkshire Hills of Western Massachusetts. We were picking our way up the steep slope of Mount Greylock along a narrow trail flanked by sizeable saplings of beech and maple. You explained to me how these were taking over from the existing birch trees. I remember we joked about a mountain in transition.

I vividly recall turning a corner and emerging into the open, the chill October wind picking up strongly without the shelter of the trees. Before us stretched a carpet of the most beautiful reds, ambers and yellows. As the clouds raced over the sun, the leaves shimmered. 'The fall in New England is the most beautiful sight' you commented.

There was a bench, a few feet from the edge of a great cliff and we sat, staring for what seemed like the whole afternoon at this most incredible view. Finally you spoke.

'I refuse to stand by and let our children become part of the first generation of Americans to do worse than their parents.'

I turned to you, I remember thinking how powerful the words were, but I did not understand the context.

'Bill Clinton' you replied.

The name meant nothing to me. You could have been quoting one of your lecturers. You told me afterwards that my face was so blank that I almost lost my bearing as to where I was sitting.

'A Democrat' you added, and I saw the look of pride in your face. 'They think that Bush is unbeatable. Operation Desert Storm and all that. His approval ratings are eighty nine percent. I only ask how will history judge him? They say that no Democrat can win. I think Bill Clinton could win.'

I remember laughing. Looking back, I don't remember if Al Gore had withdrawn at this point, but I will forever associate Democrats with compassion after he put his son before politics during that election. And I will always think of you when I think of Bill Clinton, because you were right.

Later that afternoon we returned to the house where we were staying. You had made an impression on the owner's son, and we were invited to accompany him into the nearby woods. I think he was six, or maybe seven years old. He showed us the dam he had made across the stream 'to look like a beaver had done it', and it was quite convincing. Then he showed us his treehouse, nimbly climbing the rope ladder and laughing whilst we took it in turns to hoist ourselves up the ragged contraption, both scared our adult weight might tear the threads.

Finally in the fading light of dusk, the empty air now full of evening insects, he led us to the bottom of his favourite field. You bent down to his height, and asked him why this was his favourite field. 'I'll show you' he said with excitement in his voice, and ran along the edge of the grassy expanse until he reached the highest point. He watched whilst we panted our way up to him, and waited as we rested our hands on our knees, gasping for breath. Only when we had both regained our breath and stood straight did he explain.

'It's because you can roll all the way down to the bottom' and he lay on his side and spun away screaming. I don't think we ever considered not following him down, I don't remember which of us went first, but I do remember us both laughing more than we ever laughed in our short time together.

He was six or seven. He must be thirty one or thirty two now. I often wonder what happened to him. What his life became. I wonder what his life will become. I wonder what the future holds for him.

With love.



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