America at 250

When I was 22 I took my first road trip across the country.  I was fresh out of college and got a job in Oakland, California, teaching middle school.  I had seen very little of America, so I wanted to take my time on my drive, visit as many places and states as I could before I needed to be at school.  I went to the bookstore and bought myself a giant Rand McNally road map of the United States – all 50 states.  Each state got 2 pages, and some of the larger states got 3 or more pages, and all the big cities got their own page.  The thing was a beast, but it would quickly become my best friend on my trip.  The night before I left my house in Syracuse, New York, I mapped out my route - I would start out on Interstate 90 and make my way down to Texas, cross Texas - which no one told me might take me 3 days - head up the Continental Divide and cut back east around Cheyenne, Wyoming, and make my way to San Francisco via Los Angeles and the Pacific Coast Highway.  When I would get tired I would find a place to sleep, and when I wanted to stop and explore a city, park, mountain or valley I would.  This was long before GPS or satellite radio, so when I would lose a radio station I would turn the dial until I found another one, and when I lost my way I would pull off the road, consult my map and find my way back to the relative safety of the highway.  I had the best apple pie I’ve ever had in the Amana Colonies, Iowa, saw the sun come up over the straightest, flattest and longest horizon I’ve ever seen over the Kansas prairie, crossed the bone dry salt flats in Utah, and had more truckstop coffee than I care to admit.  When I finally saw the Pacific Ocean emerge after a nightmare traffic jam in Los Angeles I yelped for joy, parked my car and jumped in the ocean.  

I spent 3 years out west, and each time I needed to come back home for something I would drive – all told I drove across our country 6 times, on 6 different routes, ultimately seeing almost every state and truckstop along the way.  I soon settled on the East Coast, but these tours of America were deeply formative for me, and made me appreciate the grandeur and promise of our country.  

As I reflect on America at 250, I am reminded of these trips and how they shaped my love for our country and our people.  America is unique in so many ways, but the most distinctive part of the American experience for me is that we are bound together by a set of promises made to us by our founders - a promise that we will be free from tyranny and allowed to pursue our own version of happiness.  Rather than being tethered to each other by lineage or culture, race or creed, we are tied together by a set of documents - by words.  What these words mean is a forever battle, but I think that’s the point.  What they stir in us, what they awaken in us, and how they animate us, is what makes us American.   

What we celebrate today is our national commitment to these words, and with our collective voices let us recommit ourselves to the most holy of all words that “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” 

At the time of our founding, no other document on Earth guaranteed its citizens freedom to pursue happiness - it was a radical idea at the time, and remains one of our most cherished beliefs.  What a gift that is, and we cannot forget the sacrifice or neglect the work required to ensure that gift applies to all, regardless of who you are or where you come from.  The masses have come here since our founding precisely because of this promise, and what we do with the words that “all men are created equal” is what has always and will continue to define our people.  We have an obligation as Americans to challenge each other, to lift each other up, and to contribute our voice to the song of America.   

Happy 250 America!