| The following column appeared in The River Reporter on July 9, 1998, and was republished on July 8, 1999. |
By Bert S. Feldman
The Recusant Reporter
Thursday, July 9, 1998
As some of you may know, I give talks — lectures if you prefer — to various groups, mainly on local history. Just before Memorial Day, I received a request to speak to a group of elderly citizens on the history and meaning of that day.
I was a little bit surprised to find, when I arrived at the room where they were meeting, to see that a large number of those in attendance were foreign born — immigrants — and that about a half-dozen were survivors of the German concentration and death camps of the Holocaust.
The meeting began, as most such gatherings do, with the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. Then, almost spontaneously, all those present began singing Irving Berlin's great anthem, "God Bless America."
This wasn't too unusual a happening, but as I looked upon the faces of these new Americans I noticed something else — their eyes were filled with tears and, in some instances, the tears ran down their cheeks.
I am not ashamed to say that there were tears in my eyes as well.
"From the mountains, to the prairies ..."
Nothing that I can think of recently has so well illustrated what America is — The Land of the Second Chance. What we so casually take for granted, our country, our rights under law, land, all these things to which we rarely give a second thought, are sheer wonderments to these people.
"To the oceans white with foam ..."
Nobody came to America from Europe, Asia, South America, wherever, because they had it good where they came from. Only the black slaves and indentured servants came here unwillingly.
Even our Indian people, who so proudly call themselves Native Americans, fled the rigors of northeast Asia during the Ice Age to cross over the frozen Bering Strait to new hope in North America.
All races, all languages, all nationalities, all religions come to this huge melting pot — only I prefer to call it the great salad bowl. A bit of Chinese cabbage, a splash of borscht, a few gyros, crumbs of Irish soda bread, couscous, a slice of kielbasa, some hamentashen, spatzle, olive oil, and anything else you may think of. Not surprisingly, the taste is delicious!
It is the foodstuff upon which the greatest New People of the New World — The Great American Mutt — thrives!
"God Bless America ..."
Let's not take it for granted; people have fought and died in order to keep it going. And, above all, don't forget its grandest title:
"Our home, sweet home."
Isn't it about time that we consider a new National Anthem? "The Star Spangled Banner," commemorating an obscure battle in 1814, first became popular during the presidency of Woodrow Wilson, who liked the song very much. It was not designated as our National Anthem until Congress so named it on March 3, 1931, only 67 years ago!
Unfortunately, it is very difficult to sing, except by a trained vocalist. What Congress has decreed can be changed. And do we want an anthem that glorifies a battle?
"God Bless America" is easy to sing and its words are easy to remember. Write a note to your Representative, or cut out this part of the column and mail it to Washington. Sixty-seven years of screeching on the notes of "The rockets' red glare" is enough.
