Part 1

America. It's a beautiful land, with every climate imaginable. As a child who grew up in an immigrant family, but taught only English, I was a prodigious reader from an early age. I read stories of the pioneers who braved the unknown as they made their way west in search of a new life, and I used to imagine myself as a cowgirl, riding the wide open plains, feeling the wind in my hair, and settling down at night to a campfire under the blazing stars. I read stories about old New York, Old New England, stories about the mountain folk, life on plantations, life as one of the Vanderbilts or Rockefellers, life as a poor child who, through hard work and perseverance, would grow up to be fabulously successful (a la Horatio Alger).

As somebody who grew up in a suburb of Los Angeles, I was tantalized by stories of living in a land with four seasons. Oh, to walk outside your front door and see great, white flakes of snow falling softly on the landscape! To go sledding with other children, to build snowmen, to see frost crystallize on the windows as you were inside, warm and cozy, with a fire roaring in the fireplace. A sleigh ride where the horses had jingle bells on their harnesses!

I watched movies, too. War movies where America was always right, our military was always the bravest and the most honorable, and there was always a happy ending. Movies about the America of old, movies from the 30s, 40s and 50s, where the police were our friends and protectors, the justice system actually worked, and criminals and cheaters never prospered. Sometimes I would watch until they shut down the station around midnight, and there would be a patriotic montage of flags, flying Air Force jets, and monuments in Washington, D.C.

I would get goose bumps saying the pledge of allegiance. When we were told at school that the red commies wanted to bomb us back to the Stone Age, and we had to practice getting under our desks and putting our hands behind our heads, I would do it faithfully, although the floors were dirty and I always got sand in my knees. We girls weren't allowed to wear pants, it wasn't "proper".

I was thoroughly indoctrinated into American culture, and I was completely in love with all the myths that we all grew up with: America is the best nation in the world, we have the highest, most compassionate form of government, and that truth and justice are the American way. If Superman started out every show with that last statement, it must be true! Russia and China were evil, dark places where everybody was bullied, scared, and sent to Siberia for talking back.

Still, behind the glittering tinsel facade, as I got older, cracks began to appear. I remember that American magazines had a hard time letting Camelot go, and there were many magazines with the Kennedy family on the covers. I remember asking my father when I was about 12 years old who killed President Kennedy. He frowned and said that it was a group of evil people, people so bad and rotten that it was best that I didn't know. I told him that it was my understanding that Lee Harvey Oswald had done it. He smirked and said in his heavy German accent, "Dats vat dey vant you to tink."

A few years later, I had asked my father what it was like to come to America as a fresh 18 year old, ready and eager for the challenge of making it here. He said it was a rude shock. He had been fooled by the American movies he had seen overseas before coming here. He thought America was truly free. Then he gets here, and there are rules preventing people from doing a bunch of stuff. He liked to go in the mountains and hunt and shoot, but here in America, you have to get a license for that. You had to get a license to drive a car, and that car had to be registered every year. Every place that seemed wide open actually belonged to somebody and there was always a "No Trespassing" sign on it.

As a way to become a naturalized citizen in a hurry, he immediately joined the Army during the Korean conflict. They gave him an IQ test in English, although they knew full well he was not proficient in the English language. They treated him like a dummy and put him on the bomb squad. I guess the Army felt he was expendable. He hung in there, though, and got his honorable discharge and his naturalization papers.

Later, he said that Americans were generally rude to him when they found his first language was German. He had to endure nasty comments in which he was called a "Nazi" and was told to get the hell out of the US if he didn't like it. He struggled to improve his language skills, and upon meeting my mother, a Spanish immigrant, he had found a kindred spirit who was having trouble being accepted by those outside her language.

Still, they worked hard, owned a business together, bought a nice house with a pool and had 4 kids, all taught only English. I remember my grandmother cutting out shamrocks from green felt to pin on our sweaters for Saint Patrick's Day so we wouldn't get pinched by the other kids. She didn't understand it, but this was America, and if it would save us from being pinched mercilessly by those of Irish descent, she would do it.

I would listen to my father's stories of frustration at how things were run in this country, frustration he dared not share with anybody outside of the home, for fear of the negative reactions from the "Love It or Leave It" crowd. I only half-listened, for I was a child in a wonderful land of plenty. Good schools, a great neighborhood, kids to play with, awesome TV and radio, lots of clothes, food, entertainment, holidays. I still wax misty at the July 4ths of my childhood. I can still see everybody out on the street, blowing off roman candles, kids running barefoot with sparklers, adults laughing and sipping sodas and beer while they sat in lawn chairs. Nobody was a stranger on those nights, and it was magical.

Christmases with tons of presents under the tree, and every house on the block had colored lights on them. Easters with eggs to color and hunt, lots of candy. Trick or Treating with fun costumes in the dark with your friends, and all the junky candy you could chow down on. Thanksgivings with turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, pies, friends and family. The first time I was allowed to stay up til midnight on New Year's Eve. I felt so grown up! What could go wrong in such a land of milk and honey? We had everything. We were the envy of the world.

Then, I actually did grow up. I remember in the 1980s, my father had gotten involved with the Lyndon LaRouche Society. He agreed with their philosophy and he was a popular member. I never listened and never cared. Who cares about politics and finances? I wanted to put in my Pretenders tape and go shopping. He gave me a book called "George Bush: The Unauthorized Biography" by Webster Griffin Tarpley and Anton Chaitkin. He said, "I know you like books. You will find this very interesting. It is important to understand and read this because he and his family are evil people" I said thanks, took it and never read it. I still have it.

A while later, while I was visiting at home, my mother, who worked for a bank, invited the bank president and his wife for dinner. My father started in on his political discussions, while my mother kept kicking him under the table for him to be quiet. The bank president was squirming but tried to be polite. Finally, dad dropped the bomb.

Part 2

He looked squarely at Mr. Bank and said, "The reason why we have so many illegals ruining this country and making the wages drop into the dirt is because of bankers like you. You want them to come in here. What do you care as long as your bank makes money? What do you care if you ruin America? You bankers are crooked traitors!"

You could have heard a pin drop. The banker's jaw dropped. His wife's eyes were as large as saucers. My mother shrieked, "WILLIE! SHUT UP ALREADY!" Dad yelled back, "I WILL NOT. This guy knows it's the truth, don't you??" The banker got up with Mrs. Banker and walked out the door. Good old dad, he sure knew how to wreck a party.

I was stuck hearing all the things that went against my America the Beautiful indoctrination. Our government is crooked. The judges are bought out. Politicians are lying scum-bags. Our country is being destroyed from within. I would roll my eyes and think about other things. Dad used to follow after me as I walked away, saying, "You'll see. They won't stop until this country is down the toilet. There will be a civil war with blood running in the streets; nobody will be able to afford to buy anything. Better prepare for it now!"

I suppose I was in denial, but I didn't pay much attention to anything back then except the things most young people in their 20s think about.

I didn't think about the horror that was the JFK and RFK assassinations. I didn't think much about Martin Luther King getting gunned down. Nixon was a joke, a fluke in his resignation, and it was funny to imitate him. During the S & L scandals of the 1980s, and Oliver North's amusing treasonous activities, I paid scant attention. My father was beside himself with anger, but I could have cared less. When Reagan slept through the hearings and couldn't remember, I just thought he was a doddering old fool. High treason? Hmm, never heard of it.

Dad passed away 16 years ago, from a car accident. I never realized how much of him was in me, and how many of his words were indelibly written in my brain. "America is a lie," He used to say, "and Americans are idiots for believing it. Don't they see? Don't they know? They could fix it but they're too ignorant to care."

Here I am, at age 50, and I have become my father. It happened rather suddenly. I was able to quit a stressful job working with the mentally handicapped, and I finally had all kinds of time on my hands to learn, research, read, and reflect. I started with the JFK assassination. I was horrified and sickened. Dad was right. It wasn't Oswald; it was something so much more sinister and evil than one lone nut. I then went on to researching about 9/11, and then I became heartbroken. The official stories, the lies upon layers of lies, were peeling away. I had cried so much that day about how many people died, but I was angry at the wrong entity for the crime. From this inside job came the Patriot Act, pre-written and ready to put nails into America's coffin.

I learned about how our government works versus how it is supposed to work, and how far off the path we as a country have strayed from the vision of our founding fathers. I earned of corruption, injustice, scandals, murders, massive thefts of taxpayer funds, open treason which was rewarded, and how American citizens have been ripped off, bullied, and corralled as cattle, used as cash cows by the IRS. I even learned that the IRS is unconstitutional, and their powers to ruin your life and steal everything are unmatched in the free world...or, more succinctly, the imaginary free world.

America, that land of promise, moral fortitude, and God's people, has become a lie. Like a set on a Hollywood lot that looks beautiful, don't look too closely, for you will see it's all a facade. There is nothing behind the doors and windows; it's all paint, plaster and cardboard. Like a mirage in the desert, the closer you get to it, the more it fades into nothingness.

I went through a period of about 6 months where I was angry; I cried often, I raged to the heavens above about the injustice of it all. It was supposed to be a thing of beauty, a shining beacon of light and truth, but it's just a tinsel-wrapped falsehood. I finally got too exhausted and burned out on the anger. I sat for days, rather catatonically, and just stared and thought.

I am now the bitter cynic that my father was. Bitter because we had it ALL in this country, and we blew it. You, me, every one of us, young and old, through our ignorance, our complacency, and our lack of interest in civic matters, large and small. When I remember the promise of what could be, the promise our founding fathers gave to us if only we learned from the mistakes of history and adhered to their vision, and see what we have become today, I weep bitter tears, the tears of one who allowed a brutal murder to occur while they turned their heads to see what was coming up next on TV.

Part 3

I pray to be shown the way to make this right, for in every lie, there is a grain of truth, and in the lie that is America, there remains a small core of truth. If we stand together and strip away the lies, the hatred, the war-mongering, the profiteering, the massive military-industrial complex, and the shadow government run by the banks, we can uncover what is worth saving.

The Tree of Liberty is withered and has no leaves left on it. We, who grew up under its expansive, majestic branches, are the ones who are letting it die. For every citizen who stands up against tyranny, a new leaf grows. For every citizen who seeks out the truth, a root grows deeper. Let us stand together and protect this tree and help it grow anew, for if we let it die, it will never come back. Banish the darkness of lies and ignorance with the light of truth! There is no other way.

There are a lot of good people trying to raise the truth ..
The I Ching says
evil can not exist on evil, once the good is wholy consumed evil dies too
one must not fight evil directly with the same weapons or one becomes evil too
one must reflect evil back at itself, and in so doing evil can not survive seeing its own ugly a$$ self

or the demise of the wendigo the egreed monster
nanaboozo the anti hero tricks the wendigo into eating its own foot knowing that once it starts to eat it
it can not stop till it's victim is totally consumed...now it is its own victim

Thank you kind posters for the encouragement and good wishes! I edited my title to indicate that I would like to enter the contest.

Originally posted by FissionSurplus
Part 2
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America, that land of promise, moral fortitude, and God's people, has become a lie. Like a set on a Hollywood lot that looks beautiful, don't look too closely, for you will see it's all a facade. There is nothing behind the doors and windows; it's all paint, plaster and cardboard. Like a mirage in the desert, the closer you get to it, the more it fades into nothingness.

This paragraph alone captures my sentiments, my feelings towards our once great nation. I love the comparisons.

As a whole, it was well thought out and put together.

Cheers to a great read.

Thanks for the story, it takes me back to memories lost with all the crap and lies you tend to forget how it was, the good stuff gets pushed back deep behind whats going on of late, we need to remember the happy feelings to feed the future with positive its hard for me but i will try