Posted on 07/03/2004 7:33:27 AM PDT by carlo3b
We Were Born on the Fourth of July
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
1620–2003 ...The Beginning
Within the short span of a hundred years, starting in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, a grand tide of emigration, one of the greatest population movements in all of the recorded history of mankind, swept from the European continent to new lands of America. This motivation to take the chance in a strange new world, was impelled by powerful and diverse forces, the natural tendency to seek escape from oppression and to crave freedom. Those few but hardy pioneers built a nation out of a stubborn wilderness and, by its nature, shaped the character and destiny of an uncharted continent.
The First to cross, The Mayflower Voyage
The first shiploads of immigrants aboard The Mayflower bound for the new territories, crossed the Atlantic more than a hundred years after the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century explorations of North America. In the meantime, thriving Spanish colonies had been established in Mexico, the West Indies, and South America. These travelers to North America came in small, horribly overcrowded craft. The Mayflower was not the first or only vessel chosen to make the crossing.
The first emigrants boarded a small 60 "tun" (tun barrels it could hold, rather than tons of water displaced) vessel called the Speedwell. They left the port of Delftshaven on July 22, 1620, amid fears, tears, prayers, and farewells
The Pilgrim group sailed to Southampton, a city on the English south coast, where they were joined by additional immigrants recruited by Weston and the merchant adventurers on a 180 tun ship out of London, the MAYFLOWER. Christopher Jones was the master. Following a five week dispute over the contract with the adventurers, the passengers on the two ships set sail for America on August 5. Their voyage was soon interrupted when the smaller Speedwell was discovered to be leaking badly. They put into the port of Dartmouth, Devonshire, and repairs were made, but the condition re-occurred once they were under sail again. The two ships were forced to make port a second time, in neighboring Plymouth.
There it was decided to leave the defective Speedwell behind, and continue on the MAYFLOWER alone. Some of the Speedwell's passengers and cargo were transferred to the larger ship, and on September 6, 1620 (my birthday, sigh . . . well not quite yet, of course, if it had been we may now be living in Carlo3bia, instead of America . . . but I digress), the MAYFLOWER set sail across the North Atlantic and its famous 102 passengers, into history.During their six- to twelve-week voyage, they subsisted on meager rations. Many ships of the day were lost in storms, many passengers died of disease, and infants rarely survived the journey. Sometimes tempests blew the vessels far off their course, and often calm brought interminable delay. In spite of all of these obstacles, they made landfall. Remarkably, there were only two casualties during the voyage of the Mayflower.
The First Pilgrims
The single most compelling motive of thse emigrants to leave their European homelands was the desire for greater economic opportunity. This urge was frequently reinforced by other considerations, such as the yearning for religious freedom, a determination to escape political oppression, or the lure of adventure. Between 1620 and 1635, economic difficulties swept England, and multitudes could not find work. Even the best artisans could earn little more than a bare living. Bad crops added to the distress. The new world offered HOPE.
The first view of their New Home
The colonists' first glimpse of the new land was a vista of dense woods. The virgin forest with its profusion and variety of trees was a veritable treasure-house—which extended over 1,300 miles from Maine in the north to Georgia in the south. Here there was abundant fuel and lumber. Here was the raw material of houses and furniture, ships and potash, dyes and naval stores.
The new continent was remarkably endowed by nature, but trade with Europe was vital, for the settlers needed to import that which they could not yet produce. Here the coastline served the well. Nearly the whole length of shore provided innumerable inlets and harbors, and only two areas, North Carolina and southern New Jersey, lacked the harbors for ocean-going vessels. Majestic rivers—like the Kennebec in Maine, the Connecticut, New York's Hudson, Pennsylvania's Susquehanna, the Potomac in Virginia, and numerous others—formed links between the coastal plain and the ports, and thence with Europe. The lack of a waterways, into the interior, however, together with the formidable barrier of the Appalachian Mountains, discouraged movement beyond the coastal plains region. Only trappers and traders with light pack trains went beyond the seaboard. For a hundred years, in fact, the colonists built their settlements along the eastern shore.
These obstacles were soon, in historical terms, overcome and the trappers, farmers, ranchers, and all kinds of adventuresome peoples made their way South, then West.
A New Start
For many of our ancestors, the new world offered religious freedom, financial opportunity, and adventure. In many instances, men and women, who had little active interest in a new life in America, were induced to make the journey by the skillful persuasion of promoters. William Penn publicized the opportunities awaiting newcomers to the Pennsylvania colony in a manner more than suggestive of modern advertising techniques. Ship captains, who received large rewards from the sale of service contracts of impecunious migrants, used every method from extravagant promises to out-and-out kidnapping, to secure as many passengers as their vessels could transport. Many early travelers started their voyage with a hangover, the former revelers awakening to find themselves tethered to the deck of a ship on their way to the New World. Also a small but significant lot started in courtrooms, as judges and prison authorities were encouraged to offer convicted persons an opportunity to migrate to America in lieu of a prison sentence. Hence, the good, the bad, and the unconscious were the early crops of this democracy . . . and like all plants, flowers and weeds, the seeds of our nation took hold and flourished.
Their Faith...
IN GOD WE TRUST
It started as an exploration of a New World, far away from the homeland, and evolved into an experiment of colonization . . . and that, with the tenacity of a very special few, developed into the greatest nation on earth. What the founding of our country took was a great deal more than words. It took more than spunk and courage, to carve a republic out of clay, and it took FAITH. A special kind of FAITH, the all powerful faith in themselves and an infinite power.
Much of the above was lifted, as in stolen, plagiarized, and pilfered directly from the faithful works of skilled historians, and learned folks. While it then becomes obvious from wherein my humble American lineage sprouted, from the emptying of the stockades, but I acknowledge the following out of a bit of shame and a great deal of respect.
The Bibliography of Principal Reference Works.Bassett, John Spencer, A Short History of the United States, The Macmillan Co., 1927
Beard, Charles A. and Mary R., The Rise of American Civilization, The Macmillan Co., 1939
Curti, Merle, The Growth of American Thought, Harper and Brothers, 1943
Hamm, William A. , The American People, D. C. Heath and Co., 1939
Hicks, John D. , The American Nation, Houghton Mifflin Co., 1941
Hockett, Homer C., Political and Social History of the United States (1492-1828). The Macmillan Co., 1925
Morison, Samuel Eliot and Commager, Henry Steele, The Growth of the American Republic (1000-1865), Oxford University Press, 1942
The Growth of the American Republic (1865-1942). Oxford University Press, 1942
Muzzey, David, The United States of America-From the Civil War, Ginn and Co, 1924
Nettels, Curtis Putnam, Roots of American Civilization, Crofts, 1938
Nevins, Allan, A Brief History of the United States, Oxford University Press, 1942
Nevins, Allan, Ordeal of the Union, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1947
Nevins, Allan and Commager, Henry Steele, A Short History of the United States, Random House, 1943
Schlesinger,Arthur Meier, Political and Social Growth of the United States, 1852-1933, The Macmillan Co., 1939
Wright, Louis B., The Atlantic Frontier, Alfred A. Knopf, 1947, Encyclopedia Americana, 1948 edition, Americana Company, New York and Chicago, The New International Year Book, 1946, Funk and Wagnalls Co., New York and London
Good morning Carlo. We are so fortunate to live in this Great Country with all it's opportunities...
Bump!
Despite the problems we have I think the founders would be please that this nation is a superpower. Am I wrong???
Kevin, I couldn't agree with you more..
THEIR SACRED HONOR - A Moving Tribute to our Original Patriots
http://www.freerepublic.com/forum/a38e397f52538.htm
WE ARE INDEED, THE BEST NATION ON EARTH.. THANK GOD!
Holy smoke.. I just saw your picture of the little cookie munchkin
... sigh Give her a big HUG from her new Uncle Carlo
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1164152/posts?page=57#57
I am a PROUD American!I was born an American. Unlike my grandparents, I was born in the greatest nation in the history of the world. Being born here didn't make me a real American. That took time.
I became an American, slowly and decisively over my entire life. I learned to be an American, through experiences, and knowledge, and witness. I remember moments in my life that brought me to the realization that being born here, in America, is one of the the greatest blessing I had been given.As a young boy, I watched as my 92 year old great grandfather (an immigrant from the bowels of depravity in Italy), as he stood in a crowded church basement and took an oath, and recited the Pledge of Allegiance to this beloved country to finally become a citizen of the United States of America. For him, becoming a real member of this wonderful country was the culmination of a lifetime of work, struggle and hope, and prayers.
My great grandfather, bent from hard work, stood tall as he listened closely to my uncle, who whispered everything that was said from the podium. In those days, immigrants had to study and be tested to prove they knew enough about this country, and it's founding, history, and government, to be qualified to contribute to it's greatness.
He had done his homework, and he didn't want to miss a word.
It was that day, in the cold damp basement decorated with flags, flanked with elders and children with his fine and honorable family looking on, that he and a large group gathered to prove that they were worthy. That day this proud man who had overcome language, illiteracy, and poverty, was at last to be rewarded, he was finally a real American.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, he broke down and cried for the first and only time I ever remember in his long and distinguished life. At that moment I remember thinking, it must be special to be an American.
Then one day my 4th grade teacher (the first and only black person, man or woman with courage enough to enter the forbidden confines of my Little Italy neighborhood), called me into the hallway to tell me that I must hurry home because my beloved grandfather had just been rushed to the hospital.
My eyes must have shown my utter horror of that moment. She grabbed me and held me tightly, and did what was the single most important thing that I needed in the whole world. She comforted me in my time of need.
I remember thinking how much I loved this brave woman who found her way into my life, in this great and wonderful land. She had taught us American history, drawing upon her unique perspective. I remember looking back as I hurried away, and seeing the tears running down her cheeks. I remember being thankful this was a country, where we had fought for the rights of everyone, especially Miss Miller, who was there when I needed her. I stayed in close touch with her until her death, many years later . . . she made me proud to be in America.
I remember when my entire family attended a parade held in honor of General Douglas Mac Arthur. We children knew who he was, as we knew the names of all of our conquering war heroes. We had waited for hours to get a glimpse of the living legend, in a real ticker tape spectacular, honoring the great General's retirement. As he passed, and the crowds roared with excitement, he turned and looked directly at ME, and smiled. For that moment I was breathless, and oh so proud to be an American.
I remember another parade, where leaders of the procession, were the last remaining soldiers, surviving the civil war. These 10 or so old men and 1 woman, in their faded uniforms, were from both sides of the conflict. They waved and smiled as they were pushed in wheel chairs as
others walked slowly past a wildly cheering crowd, I broke away from my aunt and uncle (he a vet from WWI) and handed my small flag to one of those wonderful old patriots. When I returned to the sideline, I was cheered by the crowd, and kissed by a total stranger. You can bet I was so very proud to be an American.
I remember being chosen to recite the Preamble to our Constitution at my school assembly, celebrating Memorial Day. We had spent the entire year learning the history of this glorious land in our 5th grade class. All the bravery and struggling it took to scratch this wonderful country into existence. I was taught that the words in our Constitution, where not mere phrases on a piece of paper, they were the foundation of our democracy, the cornerstone of what separated us from all of the others. I learned what was the reason we had to be proud.As I stood on that stage before my teachers and classmates, I could hardly remember my name let alone my speech. At one point during my oration, I drew a complete blank, and as my young life passed before my eyes, the principle, a stern steely man, a former veteran, leaned over and whispered the forgotten word, and winked at me as he smiled. I finished to an applause, and bowed and looked at our flag and gave thanks the ordeal was over, and that I was so proud to be a good American boy.
There was for me, a not so proud moment when my country's greatness came into my focus.
I and my friends had broken a window playing stick ball in the middle of the street. We ran like the dickens to hide before we were caught. That evening, during dinner, a hugh Irish, Chicago Police officer, came to our door. He asked if I would step out side. My mom told me to hurry and followed me to the stoop where a few of my friends were already waiting.
We were asked if we had done the deed. I looked at my mom in shame, then at my friends who were looking at their shoes, and I answered yes. He took us to the police station, and made us listen to a lecture about the poor old folks that had to scrap their nickels and dimes together to repair the damage we had done. I was crushed to think that we had inflicted so much agony on these poor people. Then we were asked if we were willing to work off the cost of the repairs, instead of the electric chair, which we were sure was the other option. I shouted my answer. . .YES!
My friends and I were given the privilege to scrub the headstones and statues of fallen patriots at our Memorial cemetery. For this act, the local Vets would replace the window. We did it happily and proudly. However, my folks and the parents of the others, made us do it every year from that point forward until we graduated from high school. Each year I read the names, and every year, there were new names added because of the passing of the old-timers, and the incredible losses in the Korean conflict.
Only now, some of those new names were men that we knew. They were the family members of my own friends and neighbors. I recall crying silently over the fresh grave of my best friend's brother, a boy who it seemed only yesterday, had taught us to play baseball. And yes dear God, I was sad, but proud to be an American.
On my 18th birthday, I stood tall at the induction center of the U.S. Air Force, and while reciting my oath, and allegiance to my country, I remembered all those things. That day I left home for the last time. I was finally a real man, and given the opportunity to say to my country, thanks from my grandpa, thanks for my family, thanks for my neighborhood, and thanks to all of those men before me that had given their all, for us to be FREE. I was proud to serve my country, and to this day I thank GOD I have a country like America to give what I could, including my life if necessary.
Yes, I am a proud American.
Sadly less than 100 years after the freedom bells tolled commemorating their deaths America began it's slide into wealth capture, socialism and the beginnings of the "new world order" with the formation of the federal reserve, the Council on Foreign Relations and the IRS.
IMHO The founders would be spinning in their graves to know where America - fallen into a democracy, is in 2004.
SUPPORT OUR GREAT PRESIDENT,
GEORGE W BUSH
I am a PROUD American!What a precious country that we live in. Thanks God.
Happy Birthday America. I love you.
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