This is a photo of the house that I grew up in Strongsville, Ohio. My brother Mike and sister-in-law Tammie took this photo just a week or so ago when they detoured off the Ohio Turnpike on their way back to Michigan from Philadelphia. While the town of Strongsville has dramatically changed, according to Mike, our old neighborhood looks much the same as it did when we were children.My parents lived there for many years, certainly long enough to pay off a thirty year mortgage. It's the house I was brought home to from the hospital - my room was in the front right corner. From the outside, it looks pretty much as I remember it.By today's standards, it is a very modest house. It had three bedrooms, 1.5 bathrooms and a galley-style kitchen. Although it had a full basement with half of it turned out in the common style of the 1970s as a "rec" room, there was no guest room, no bonus room, no play room. Yet I never thought of the house as being small. The family that lived next door to us for all those years raised six children in a house with the same overall footprint as ours and, again, no one ever thought of the houses as being small. They were the average size.It was a good neighborhood in which to grow up. Just about every house had children and we all played together, sometimes well and sometimes not. We pretended our bikes were horses, we built forts, we climbed (and fell out of) trees. We caught lightning bugs and put them in jars, we played elaborate games of hide and seek, we tagged after the big kids until they chased us away. And if I got in trouble at the Knoblauch's house, then I was definitely in trouble at home. But it wasn't all good; as an adult I have learned that the man across the street beat his children and his wife, that the man on the other side from the family with six children "ran around", that the family around the corner had a child that ended up in drug rehab. I don't know if my parents were aware of all this or not, that perhaps they simply kept a lot of information from me. Either way, I don't much care...I can honestly say that I had an idyllic childhood that was mostly free of anxiety and fear.I have many good memories of the house in Strongsville. But I think I am glad that I don't live nearby and therefore can't see the changes another family has made or to see the overall changes in the neighborhood. In my mind, it will always be just the way I remember it.
Today is Independence Day in the US, when we celebrate the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on 4 July 1776, declaring our independence from England. I always try to read the Declaration of Independence on Independence Day, to marvel at the foresight of the writers, the beauty of the language, to appreciate the sheer audacity of a bunch of upstart colonists to thumb their noses at the (then) greatest power on earth.But while I celebrate that declaration and all that has taken place in the last 232 years, I also have my usual struggle with my country. It is great to celebrate that momentous day, but Independence Day has slowly distilled down into yet another day of inevitable store sales, but more troubling into a day of chest thumping superiority. There is no question in my mind that the United States has one of the best government systems on earth, that usually as a nation we strive to do the right thing and that we are, for the most part, hard working good people. But we do many things wrong and don't always learn from those mistakes, we try to throw around our weight as a superpower much too often and we simply don't take the time or brainpower to think about what we are doing.And in recent years, anyone who dares to question our motives, suggests that things could be done differently or better, or even hints that other nations might have a better method, has been branded a traitor. Free speech and all that, as long as I agree with your free speech. Thomas Jefferson may not have actually said "Dissent is the highest form of patriotism" but I still like the statement. It is only through dissent and questioning and searching for a better way that we seek to do better and achieve what is best for all of us.Am I a proud American? I don't know. I am thankful most days to have been born in a country of freedom, of privilege, of opportunity. But I am conflicted about what I see, what I hear and the direction in which I think we are headed. We have to got to reevaluate our priorities, stop thinking that we are entitled to all that is big and luxurious, and learn to play a role in the world, not try to set the rules for the world. We need to examine all that has taken place over the past 232 years and determine what lessons need to be learned for the next 232 years. We need to remember what got us here, good and bad, and figure out how to go forward in a more thoughtful, intelligent manner.So happy Independence Day, I think.
