A Day At The Beach

We have hit another wall. For as long as I can remember, we've been living in the greatest country on earth - the envy of the world. What is the fabled destination of every third-world denizen who's spinning his wheels in the mud of oppression, corruption, racism, and crony capitalism? It's where the streets are said to be paved with gold; where dollars and opportunity beckon soft and ripe like low-hanging fruit. So, they plan for the journey across the several seas. They sharpen their useful skills as to have something to trade when they arrive. And sure enough, they make a life for themselves and write home about it, inspiring others to undertake the journey as well.

It's half a life's work to make that journey. Sometimes, it's not all that easy - that tearing away of the heart from the (home) land. Sometimes they have to settle for their children reaching the top; the children conceived and spawned in the fecund new soil of America.

But where are those already here supposed to go? How do they exercise their hopes, their egos, their wits, impatience, their skills? They're already here, in the greatest place on earth. They take their luck for granted. They too look for new angles to satisfy their intellectual prowess. They too see what’s good in America - but to them it’s a wall. It can’t be moved.

They become politicians, journalists, muckrakers. They look for inspiration overseas. They light fires – small fires at first. Then they graduate to buildings, institutions. They run to the rescue, hoping to be heroes.

Ego. They start to meddle - rearrange things that can’t be rearranged; things that can’t be put back – like diabetes. Now they have a cause. They make new rules. They seek control. They deny themselves meat; they wear hair shirts – ego again. The more they meddle, the worse it gets. They’re overwhelmed.

Then they read somewhere that the path to Utopia must start with revolution. Things are already coming unhinged. They’ve had a part in its unhinging. Ego again. Now, the tearing down becomes a path. They reward and praise each other for essentially nothing – for kicking down the sand castle that’s taken Janie half the morning to build. We’ll have our revolution, by God! We’re tearing it all down. We’re doing something after all.