This American Land

 What is this land of America, so many travel there

A musical question asked by an American composer by the name of Bruce Springsteen. It rings a little different from say, Born in the USA. This is a song of hope from the point of view of an immigrant telling his family of what awaits them in America. 

Over there all the woman wear silk and satin to their knees
And children dear, the sweets, I hear, are growing on the trees
Gold comes rushing out the river straight into your hands
If you make your home in the American land

People have been coming to our shores since before they were ours. We are a nation almost exclusively of immigtants, populated by those fleeing oppression or searching for opportunity. We put it on all our bumper stickers and T-shirts. 

There's diamonds in the sidewalks, there's gutters lined in song
Dear, I hear that beer flows through the faucets all night long
There's treasure for the taking, for any hard working man
Who will make his home in the American land

Any cursory glance at the History of these United States will tell you that each new influx of immigrants have struggled to become a part of this American Land. If you ask someone who has family stretching back to the Mayflower, they will tell you that everyone else after their ancestors ruined it for everyone else. Or those that came over during the Industrial Revolution. Or fled global conflicts to find a safe home for future generations. 

I docked at Ellis Island in a city of light and spire
I wandered to the valley of red-hot steel and fire
We made the steel that built the cities with the sweat of our two hands
And I made my home in the American land

We built this place to be better than the place from whence we came. 

And it is. We are all beneficiaries of the failures of those nations and societies that have crumbled before us.

The McNicholas, the Posalski's, the Smiths, Zerillis too
The Blacks, the Irish, Italians, the Germans and the Jews
The Puerto Ricans, illegals, the Asians, Arabs miles from home
Come across the water with a fire down below

To quote another great American, Bill Murray: We're Americans, with a capital 'A', huh? You know what that means? Do ya? That means that our forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world. We are the wretched refuse. We're the underdog. We're mutts!

They died building the railroads, worked to bones and skin
They died in the fields and factories, names scattered in the wind
They died to get here a hundred years ago, they're dyin' now
The hands that built the country were always trying to keep down

Happy birthday to that unique ideal that we continue to complain about.