Independence Day

I have always been a sucker for cheesy music.  I blame it on the fact that I grew up on Michael McClean, Afterglow, and The Righteous Brothers.  (The irony of this sentence is that the first two aforementioned names are religious bands; the brothers, however righteous, are secular.  Go figure.)  It is for this reason that every 4th of July I have to listen to the ridiculous ensembles of patriotic songs that one radio station or another piece together while I sit on my car hood and stare up at the fireworks.  If there isn't music, it's just no good.  You know the kind I'm talking about:  Lee Greenwood being "Proud to Be an American"; Martina McBride wailing her plea to "let freedom ring"; heck, even John Phillips Sousa's "Stars and Stripes" gets the goosebumps going for me.  (I think I'm going to change his name to J-Sous, I think this can increase his new-millennium popularity...)

This 4th of July the tradition started out much the same.  10:00pm found me parked in front of the Crown Burger facing Sandy City Hall.  My mom, my two sisters and myself rolled the windows down and turned up the radio and then climbed up on top of the hood of the Camry.  Side by side we stared into the sky as the fireworks erupted.   But, just as is so often the case, this particular evening was ruined by none other than Neil Diamond.  First, let me give you some background. 

I served an LDS mission between 2005-2007.  Although I served within the bounds of the US of A it felt more like a foreign mission.  I spent the majority of my time working and living with people of Latin decent; mostly Mexican.  In my short 18 months I made lifelong friends, second families, and connections that I will forever be grateful for and proud to have.  Truth be told, my heart bleeds Latin now, and hopefully always will.  For this reason I have returned to my mission stomping grounds on several occasions.  It's a chance to reconnect with people I love, and who in turn love me.  The most recent visit was this past May when I returned with two of my companions (read: very dear friends Shay and Moffy) to the land that gives me my screen name.  We had an amazing time.  We were treated to wonderful food, great music, and a lot of dancing lessons!  It was 4 days that passed altogether too quickly, but it was time very well spent.  Two weeks following our visit I received this call from Shay:

"Kath?"  She was calling me in the middle of the day; usually we chat via Internet since we work for the same company.

"Yeah, what's up? What's wrong?'

"Did you hear from Evelyn yet?"  It's always like Shay to need to know the background first.

"No, what's going on?"  Evelyn is a dear friend in OKC who keeps us posted on all of the happenings.

"Liliana and her mom were pulled over yesterday while driving in the city.  They are being detained over night in a jail and are being deported first thing in the morning."  

What shocked me most about this sentence was the mere fact that I had seen Liliana and her sweet mom, Hermana Lopez, only two weeks previous during our visit.  Liliana caught me up on how things were going at the University of Oklahoma.  She was accepted there on full scholarship; a natural occurrence for the valedictorian of her high school.  She had brought her friends to the church party and I laughed as I watched them all participate in the dance contests.  I had some long talks with Liliana that evening about what her plans were for the future and what she was enjoying and/or struggling with in the present. With Shay's call none of this mattered any more.

"What can we do?  How much will it cost for bail? Can we bail them out?  Who do we need to talk to?  Tell me what to do?!!!!"  I shot questions at Shay as if she would know the answers, but neither of us did.  I felt as if I had been kicked hard in the stomach: my air was gone, I was dizzy.  I pulled over while driving; I was overcome with anger and panic.  This couldn't be happening.  Later that afternoon I called OU: couldn't someone override this decision?  Liliana doesn't even speak with an accent, she's lived here almost her whole life!  How could this be happening?  Nothing.  Liliana and Hermana Lopez were put on a bus the next morning and driven across the border.  They were dropped off in Ciudad Juarez which is thousands of miles from their place of origin in Mexico. They were given chance to collect things from their home of several years, nor visit their loved ones.  Dropped off with the clothes on their backs.  No money, American or Mexican.  No food.  No address book to telephone once in Mexico.  Just kicked out.  Hermano Lopez and Juan (son) were left behind in OKC with no way to contact their family.  Split apart and separated like criminals.  What was their crime? Driving while Hispanic.  

Flash back to Friday night, July 4th.  On the roof top of my mom's car Neil sings:

Far/We've been travelling far/ Without a home/ But not without star

Free/ Only want to be free/ We huddle close/ Hang on to a dream

On the boats and on the planes/ They're coming to America

Never looking back again/ They're coming to America

Home, don't it seem so far away?/ Oh we're traveling light today/ In the eye of the storm

Home, to a new and shiny place/ Make our bed and we'll say our grace/Freedom's light burning warm

Everywhere around the world/Every time that flag's unfurled/Got a dream to take them there/Got a dream they've come to share

They're coming to America

This used to rank high up there as one of my favorite cheesy songs.  I think it's because I believed it.  I believed that people came here and were given an opportunity.  My thoughts have changed since someone I love has been kicked out of this country only to be left stranded in a foreign place.  I'm convinced that songs like this exist to keep the wool over our eyes.  It's easy to sit on the hood of a car in the soft summer breeze and feel grateful to have been born in this country.  When songs like this are played it seems as though everyone is given the same opportunity to enjoy what we have.  Are we fooling ourselves?  How much of the American Dream are we willing to share when we kick out the English speaking, Valedictorian, Freshman Pre-Med and tell them they aren't worthy to be here?

This is the first time I have spoken about this in any way.  When emotions get tied around your heartstrings it becomes difficult to unweave them without causing further injury.  It's time I shared it though.  

I must make it known that I AM grateful to be in America.  I am grateful for this land and the liberties it has offered me personally.  I am grateful for the freedoms that I enjoy and for the safety that I too often take for granted.  I love this country and much of what it stands for.  I can't, however, support the idea that man made divisions that we call "borders" can stand as an excuse for prejudice, discrimination, or the idea that only certain people have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.   I know there are many of you who feel differently, or perhaps simply have never bothered to think about this before.  I certainly have never really pondered it until this year.  

What will each of us see when we take off our rose colored glasses? Would we be willing to start changing the rules? Until then I'm sure there is a bus leaving early in the morning and to the families that are about to lose their loved ones: I'm sorry.  Welcome to America- it's not as new and shiny as Neil makes it out to be...  yet.