From the begining it was blatently obvious that we were city children who didn't camp. One of my friends spent our first night loudly proclaiming this and declaring the stupidity of this adventure. The other campers in this campsite also recognized our abnormality. Seven girls camping? What are they a group of lesbians? Killers? Either way, we appeared suspicious.
People in turn, were rude. They constantly commented on how loud and obscene we were being around their children (whom they weren't even bothering to keep even a negligent eye on), and then staying up far into the night listening to loud music. We were offended and nervous, both natural reactions. Upon our third day however, they were packing up their camper and leaving. We rejoiced. Finally we could obnoxiously play Cards Against Humanity and laugh and squeal in horror at each other's own dark thoughts.
At this same campsite, was a little blond boy maybe around three or four. Quiet, shy and adorable us ladies couldn't help but coo and cheer when he came charging by our campsite his red and yellow kite flying behind him. On our fourth night however, the little boy's kite got stuck in a tree. We'd seen this a couple of times before and his dad had always managed to retrieve the kite for his little boy. This time, the kite was too far up in the tree for him to even reach, let alone reclaim for his boy.
A huge black truck saved the day. The man driving the truck pulled up to the dad and after a minute or so of talking the father and a passenger in the truck climbed into the truck bed and managed to retrieve the kite. We went nuts, clapping and cheering on the kite rescuers like none other. They probably thought us nuts, but for a group of city children, human kindness touches us like none other. Unlike the others, this family and the people in the truck made genuine human connections and helped each other like human beings are supposed to. We are not, after all, social creatures for nothing.
This ties in with another issue America is having at the moment; the border children.
These children are from Central and South America and are fleeing terrible conditions in their own home countries. They are being shipped here by terrified parents, who need our empathy and understanding more than they need our hate. These children are spending their days listening to hate coming from white people who get to go home to their parents and families and homes and feel safe. People who obviously don't appreciate what they have. These adult Americans standing at the border shouting at scared children are not heros, they are villians. America in this instance isn't a hero either. Nor is it a villian. America is the passerby who could do something powerful and live up to the motto engraved on our Statue of Libery, live up to "a nation of immigrants"; the title we've given ourselves with pride, live up to the standard that I as an American citizen hold my country to, along with so many others. But it isn't. And if we can learn anything from my camping trip is that there are three kinds of people in the world, the Heros, the Villans, and the Passerbys. And look, I love America. I love the ideals that it has stood for. Stood. Not stand. America has lost its way and it disappoints me beyond belief.
Who do you want to be America? The choice is yours.
