My Valentine's "Alternative"

The second week of February is always a poignant, indeed special, one for me. Not because of Valentine's Day--certainly not. In fact, I wear black each February 14, not in a self-piteous show of a single man's bitterness--well, maybe partially!--but rather in symbolic mourning for my lost, or at least unfound, love. Sappy and old-school, isn't it? Anyway, the reason this week is important for me can be summed up in the birthday commemorations of three very special individuals in my life and leanings: California Governor and 40th U.S. President Ronald Wilson Reagan (February 6, 1911), British novelist and Ebenezer Scrooge creator Charles John Huffam Dickens (February 7, 1812), and yes, my ideological mentor and favorite historical figure, our 16th President--and Great Emancipator--Abraham Lincoln (today, February 12, 1809). While it is a heavy emotional and psychological load to consider all three of these men thoroughly in the same few days, it is also a very affirming and uplifting task as well, one I don't really mind performing. (Can't tell I'm a history nerd yet, can you?) Here are a few brief, succinct thoughts I have about all three:

Ronald Reagan - He was--and is--the father of modern-day conservatism, the man who renewed America's patriotism and faith in itself...the Great Communicator, the redeemer of the GOP, the first man to serve two full terms in his own right since FDR. Almost every earthly, political conviction I hold I can trace back to him and his values--an appreciation for smaller government and free enterprise, a need for a strong volunteer military, a reverence for the laws of God and country, and a deep compassion for every human life, especially those yet unborn. I may have differed with him on certain issues, as is inevitable with any leader, but I will cherish his memory until I too leave this globe.

Charles Dickens - He is my all-time favorite author, and is quite possibly the second most brilliant and effective crafter of the English language (behind Shakespeare, of course...no shame in being called second there). One could argue he was the greatest novelist of all time, writing not just one but more than a dozen classics with indelible characters: A Christmas Carol, Oliver Twist, A Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations, David Copperfield...to name a few. There is something remarkable about picking up a Dickensian work on a winter's eve and letting it warm, indeed touch, your body, heart, and mind. Many in our modern, cynical world have begun to spurn Dickens for his sentimental, spiritual literature, but I say God bless him even now! I can trace much of my compassion for the sick and weak, the young and even unborn, to his influence. Thanks, Boz--I owe you one.

Abraham Lincoln – The tall, scrawny, rugged-looking prairie lawyer…born in a rural Kentucky cabin, raised on a dirt-poor Indiana farm, ushered into manhood by way of failure and adversity in the fields of New Salem near Springfield, Illinois. My hero, my icon, my inspiration—the noblest, brightest, most singular leader we have had here in America. The Founding Fathers were a mountain range of impressive intellects and historical figures amassed together—Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, Adams, Adams, Madison, Monroe, Paine, Henry—while Lincoln was a Colossus, a monolith, of leadership and courage rising from the vast plain of mediocrity and evil around him, both before and after his Presidency. Without him, our great future leaders—Roosevelt, Wilson, Roosevelt, Truman, Reagan—would have had no bridge back, no real connection, to that original distant, glorious birth of freedom embodied by the Declaration and the Constitution. It took Lincoln to remind the entire nation, not merely the South, that freedom must be universal and unfettered, and that a great republic’s true union depended entirely on liberty. A valuable lesson then, and even more so now, in this increasingly troubled and complex world. Lincoln’s towering soul, like his body in life, continues to watch us…let’s not disappoint him, whether it be in Baghdad or Kabul or here at home.

So that's my humble, yet somehow lofty, alternative to Valentine's Day. Take it or leave it... Unless you're a magnificent nerd like myself, I'm guessing you'll choose the latter. But show some empathy, or at least pity; for those of us without a love or a life, such "commemorations" must suffice. For now, that's fine with me. Such men and women in history can never get enough attention, as far as I'm concerned.

Wish I Were Italian...Or Something.

This may seem like a strange blog--and it probably is--but I'm writing it anyway. (That's how you know you're a genuine writer.) I am supremely proud of my American heritage, not to mention the fact that I have deep roots in German and Scots-Irish ancestry. Nonetheless, there are times when I wish I were less of an ethnic mongrel, so to speak. I really have no one European lineage to identify with, which so many Americans do. I think it would give me a better sense of where my ancestors came from, what they suffered, and what exactly brought them here. Instead, I am finding I have to piece together the many morsels of my ancestry...a little Scottish here, a little English there, some German, a tad of Italian Swiss and even Chippewa Indian.

What am I, then? One hundred percent American indeed, and that will always be my primary identity. But I must admit, it would be nice to have a strong, unbroken tie to a certain foreign country, so as to give my forefathers' (and mothers) saga more meaning...and my eventual planned pilgrimage to such a place. I'm quite jealous of those in our society, particularly Italian- and Irish-Americans, who have such clear, defined, unadulterated attachments to their ethnic heritage and history. I realize it's probably because they've been through a lot more adversity and exclusion than perhaps my English or German forebears, but nonetheless...I'm green with envy--or orange, since I'm a partially Scots-Irish Protestant.

If I could choose any one ethnicity, or at least one apart from my myriad, it would probably be Italian. I'll always adored Italian "stuff." Glorious food and drink, great music and literature (I actually love opera), Renaissance art and architecture, beautiful passionate brunettes, a home country with perhaps the richest and most colorful history and landscape--alongside Greece--in all of Europe. (Granted, I would probably have to become Roman Catholic, but even as a proud Protestant with grave misgivings about Catholic theology, I see Catholics as my Christian brethren.) Not only that, I would enjoy being part of a culture that values family life, national loyalty, and simple pleasures above all else (although the whole Mafia thing would be a bit of a turn-off). I think America used to exhibit those qualities, but we've become such a corporate-driven, materialistic, hedonistic, cynical, weak, pro-choice, pro-criminal, pro-globalist, anti-war, anti-religion, anti-decency, self-absorbed, "diversity"-instead-of-unity freak show, that I sometimes no longer recognize Lady Liberty or Uncle Sam in our midst.

But forgive me for digressing. My point is somewhat tongue-in-cheek...I am not really saying I want to convert to a different nationality. I just think it would be nice if I could cling to an American and another country's flag. After all, our immigrants' dual identity has always been a valuable, integral part of our society. We have always been populated by people proud of where they came from, even prouder of where they have come. I guess I will just have to cling to the one flag I love--and would love--more than any other anyhow, that of brave, freedom-loving, red-white-and-blue Old Glory...which is fine with me. If and when I plan my pilgrimage to my ancestors' home countries, I'll just have to visit five or six instead of only one. The more the merrier, I suppose. Perhaps in that sense I am more of a true American. E pluribus unum, eh?