Sunday, March 05, 2006
AMERICAN ME
By Tweed
I just finished a very entertaining book called "The Island at the Center of the World," by Russell Shorto. It's about New Netherland, the Dutch colony that spanned from modern-day Connecticut to Delaware. But primarily, the book is about what is now New York City and the Hudson Valley. The central thesis of the book is that New Netherland's contribution to the history of New York and the United States has been overlooked. The author finds in the early Dutch colony some of the basic principles that are hallmarks of Americanism - religious toleration, free trade and a citizenry that demands respect for its rights. Also, cole slaw.
Finishing the book, I am brimming with pride, for. . . yes. . . believe it or not, Tweed is Dutch (and I have the wooden shoes to prove it).
Well, not quite. My (real) name is Dutch, but I'm not really sure how much Dutch blood runs through my veins.
The Tweeds are thick in Hudson River valley - particularly in Ulster and Greene Counties, but also in the Albany area and Westchester. Tweeds have served in the US military as far back as the battle of Saratoga - and Tweeds served the colonies earlier as well.
So is this why I am proud?
Nope.
My grandmother is a Horton - a Brit. The Hortons set foot on Long Island is 1686 (or 1683), and have prospered ever since. The Hortons have done well in America, and have attained positions of stature in society.
But it's not my Horton ancestry that makes me proud.
My other grandmother is a Borelli, second generation Italian. What is more American than being Italian? Not much. Italian food and culture, particularly in New York, is rich and thriving. And me and Italian food are inseparable.
So what could be more American than my Dutch/English/Italian ancestry?
How about my grandfather - a Benson. His people, Vermonters, were sod-busters and tried their hand in the Dakotas with government assistance under the Homestead Act. On that side, I've got Scandanavian, Native American, central European and a Smorgasblog of other races and nationalities.
In short, my blood is teeming with the huddled, unwanted masses of the world.
Could make a man proud - particularly because I have yet to find a speck of Irish blood in my line.
But it doesn't.
My ancestry is of interest to me, but it doesn't make me feel any better than anyone else - except Stockton, who's composed of that awful mixture - Anglo/Italian.
I am proud because I have taken the opportunity created for me by my ancestors and all the others who have come before me and created something for myself. I am proud of my own accomplishments (including the ability to work collaboratively with Stockton, a man of dubious breeding). We owe it, those of us whose families stretch back hundreds or thousands of years on this Continent as well as those who arrived yesterday, to excel.
New York state has the best motto of any state because it is of limitless application: Excelsior - ever upward.
I just finished a very entertaining book called "The Island at the Center of the World," by Russell Shorto. It's about New Netherland, the Dutch colony that spanned from modern-day Connecticut to Delaware. But primarily, the book is about what is now New York City and the Hudson Valley. The central thesis of the book is that New Netherland's contribution to the history of New York and the United States has been overlooked. The author finds in the early Dutch colony some of the basic principles that are hallmarks of Americanism - religious toleration, free trade and a citizenry that demands respect for its rights. Also, cole slaw.
Finishing the book, I am brimming with pride, for. . . yes. . . believe it or not, Tweed is Dutch (and I have the wooden shoes to prove it).
Well, not quite. My (real) name is Dutch, but I'm not really sure how much Dutch blood runs through my veins.
The Tweeds are thick in Hudson River valley - particularly in Ulster and Greene Counties, but also in the Albany area and Westchester. Tweeds have served in the US military as far back as the battle of Saratoga - and Tweeds served the colonies earlier as well.
So is this why I am proud?
Nope.
My grandmother is a Horton - a Brit. The Hortons set foot on Long Island is 1686 (or 1683), and have prospered ever since. The Hortons have done well in America, and have attained positions of stature in society.
But it's not my Horton ancestry that makes me proud.
My other grandmother is a Borelli, second generation Italian. What is more American than being Italian? Not much. Italian food and culture, particularly in New York, is rich and thriving. And me and Italian food are inseparable.
So what could be more American than my Dutch/English/Italian ancestry?
How about my grandfather - a Benson. His people, Vermonters, were sod-busters and tried their hand in the Dakotas with government assistance under the Homestead Act. On that side, I've got Scandanavian, Native American, central European and a Smorgasblog of other races and nationalities.
In short, my blood is teeming with the huddled, unwanted masses of the world.
Could make a man proud - particularly because I have yet to find a speck of Irish blood in my line.
But it doesn't.
My ancestry is of interest to me, but it doesn't make me feel any better than anyone else - except Stockton, who's composed of that awful mixture - Anglo/Italian.
I am proud because I have taken the opportunity created for me by my ancestors and all the others who have come before me and created something for myself. I am proud of my own accomplishments (including the ability to work collaboratively with Stockton, a man of dubious breeding). We owe it, those of us whose families stretch back hundreds or thousands of years on this Continent as well as those who arrived yesterday, to excel.
New York state has the best motto of any state because it is of limitless application: Excelsior - ever upward.
