Rethinking the American Dream
Rethinking the American Dream
30 Years Later -- Still Dreaming
The past week was highlighted by a visit from my daughter, Susi, and grandson, Ethan. Susi was here three and a half years ago at the time of my cancerous bladder removal. It has been fifteen years since they both visited. They traveled from Portland, Oregon, and Seattle, Washington. It is a time of life when distance travel is very unlikely for me. So it is a grand gift to have them travel East.
One of the things that happened due to the visit, no excuse, but it happened — I neglected my weekly writing/post. So tonight I looked through my 30 year old poetry. I have shared some of this work during the past year and was delighted with the feedback from readers. Let’s try it again.
Rethinking the American Dream Born into struggle, the stage is set Happiness came home with weekly check Sadness -- or was it anger -- waited outside the door The dream was just a dream. What is the dream? Owning your own home -- preferably new Is that the dream? How about cars and a pretty wife. A child of scrambling learns to scramble Teachers, mentors, writers question the dream A decade of Acts 2 and 4, a decade of wanting more The dream is bankrupt. The dream comes real in war, Debt, violence, hatred, mistrust Grabbing for oil, wood, fiber, things They are dream substance. In this political year and Columbus season Rethink the Dream, Wake Up Remake the Dream, Wake Up Where are the real dream catchers? Stop the scramble, the struggle to survive Forego the lofty, lusty desires for more Find peace in the earth dream Peace, caring, love, sharing. May I say -- the American Dream is a nightmare and filled with despair Let it go, what you see is not what your get The Dream is beguiling and seductive, let it go. The dream vision comes to focus It's unamerican, it's universal It tells of enough for all It cries for the wellbeing of all living things.
Thirty years have come and gone. I no longer struggle. I live in a bubble of aging with the accompanying issues. I am not angry, I am not sad. I do think about my fifty year old children as they navigate life. I think of Ethan and his sister, Zoe, and wonder what the Dream means to them. I think of my younger grandchildren Penelope and Dylan — grade schoolers — and try to imagine their dream walk. And the great-granddaughter, Finley, at two! I am unable to imagine her dream world.
