I’ve been to four Rose Bowls and not one Rose Bowl
parade. I’ve raised two children to
adulthood, yet never took them to a parade either. Honestly, prior to last weekend, I don’t
remember the last time I’ve ever attended one of those events, or even watched
one on TV --unless you count the final scene in Animal House, which I’ve surely
seen several times. But exactly one
week ago, I stood on Main Street in Zionsville, Indiana, and watched the floats
go by.
There was the Corvette Club float, and then, minutes
later, a competing Corvette Club float.
There was the Boone County Republican float, and then, seconds later,
two donkeys went by, which at the time I thought represented the only Democrats
in Boone County. I saw the Girl Scout
float – I even had kin in that one – the Lion’s Club float, plenty of pirate
floats (it was a pirate-themed parade), the Miss Boone County float, a float
for the Eagles of Zionsville High and another one for the middle schoolers who
will soon be Eagles. I saw thousands of
people lining Main Street – both in the road and next to it. All seemed incredibly happy. In fact, even though I couldn’t help but note
that only three people I spotted in or around the parade were black and only
two were Asian, that didn’t stop me from having a wonderful time.
I was witnessing a Boone County whiteout to be sure,
but these people weren’t carrying tiki torches or spewing venom. They were smiling, laughing, waving, and handing
out candy. They were eating guilt-free
sausages and ice cream, riding in guilt-free gas-guzzling cars, and surely
looking forward to guilt-free Pop Warner football games later in the
afternoon. In fact, after I left the
parade, I immediately went to a field in another part of Zionsville to watch my
great-nephew play tackle football and register a sack. Where I live, we have grumps who’d use the
term “child abuse” when describing parents who let their nine-year-olds play
football. I suspect they don’t have
many people like that in Zionsville.
They just have Colts fans.
Standing beside Main Street, watching Americana go
by, I was reminded of various countries across the pond. In England, you get ethnic English culture, in
France, French culture, in Germany, German culture, and so on. Crossing the pond is like going to dog shows –
there, you see bichons, beagles, and dalmatians. Purebreds,
never mutts. There’s a certain authenticity in a show full
of pedigreed dogs, or a Boone County parade.
Simple, uncomplicated, traditional,
joyous. What’s not to embrace?
Then I let my mind wander. I thought about another nation across the
pond – Israel. And how when I’m there,
especially in Jerusalem, I frequently see groups of ultra-Orthodox Jews, all in
black, often with those thick furry Shtreimels covering their heads (as if they’re
living in a polar climate, rather than a temperate one). I ask myself, “Are these men MORE Jewish than
the rest of us? It sure seems to be a larger part of their
self-identity, and it totally dominates how everyone else looks at them. But are they really more Jewish?” I
asked similar questions in Zionsville.
Are the people at this parade more American than the rest of us? Are they really?
Occasionally, politicians force us all to ask those
questions. Think back to the awful
campaign run by Sarah Palin in 2008, when speaking in rural North Carolina, she
spoke about “the real America” and “the pro-America areas of this great nation.” Those were truly offensive comments –
tantamount to saying that every Jew who doesn’t wear a Shtreimel in the middle
of the summer isn’t a “real” Jew. The
beauty of America in particular is supposed to be its diversity, its fostering
of freedom to be whatever and whoever we wish to be. Surely, this nation belongs as much to mutts as
to purebreds. We don’t associate it with
one ethnic group, religion, race, or political ideology. That is our greatest strength.
And yet. And
yet.
I couldn’t help but take in the beauty of that ethnic
ritual known as the small Midwestern town parade last Saturday. I couldn’t help but recognize how the people
there felt at home with traditional Americana, and how traditional Americana
does tend to be associated more with certain ethnic groups and cultures than
others. This scene made me question my
own childhood prejudices -- the ones that flow from growing up as part of an
ethnic minority. I spent my childhood
years grumbling about why Jews like me always had to have Christmas shoved down
our throats by these damned Christians who thought that their religion was the
friggen be-all-and-end-all of religions.
But in fact, come December, the good people of Zionsville aren’t trying
to shove anything down anyone’s throats.
They are just trying to enjoy a beautiful story, listen to a beautiful
carol, and express a beautiful sentiment like “peace on earth, good will toward
men.”
The Zionsville scene was the antithesis of
Charlottesville. It was about white
people loving, not white people hating. And
yet it allowed me to appreciate a bit why so many white Christian Americans in
the south and elsewhere are experiencing the loss of something near and dear to
them – Americana as they know it. Among
our youngest cohorts, white Christians are no longer the majority in this
country. Christmas no longer dominates
the airwaves when we approach winter. The
fastest growing religious world view is “none of the above.” And, in many liberal media outlets, Americans
are increasingly divided into the category of “people of color” and “people of
privilege.” I’ll let you guess which term is a compliment.
Then there’s the pièce de résistance: adults in small
town America, no less than urban America, are dealing with how it feels to live
in a generation that figures to be more affluent than our own children. That is a bitter pill for any decent person
to swallow.
Reflecting on Zionsville, I saw a town that day
enjoy the present by celebrating the past.
But what I want to know is, how
do they see the future? Can they
envision a different future that is more culturally diverse, and yet authentic,
respectful of the past, and worthy of celebration? That is a question for Boone County, Beverly
Hills, Baltimore and all other parts of America.
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