Everyone who has heard of the United States of America has their own personal opinions about "America" and are free to publicly air those opinions.  The development of the concept of America with the help of France during the American Revolutionary War broght about the French Revolution only years later.  The concept of "My America" was formed during my formative years and is based on the Contitution of the United States of America . . . also often referred to as "the law of the land" . . .

What does YOUR America mean to YOU?

My America:  That was then . . .

Growing up in a working-class neighborhood in New York City where many of its residents served with honor in the Armed Forces of the United States, I was bombarded with many phrases that represented America.  Some of those phrases are We the People . . . Liberty & justice for all . . . All men are created equal . . . Only in America, land of opportunity . . . Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness . . . A Government of the people, by the people and for the people . . .

Depending upon your age, whether or not you live(d) in and or received part or all of your education somewhere in the United States of America, or if you are a private citizen, a member of the armed forces, or an immigrant, illegal or otherwise, the Phrases of America which are often used to portray America, hold some level of meaning for you – good bad or indifferent.  As a second generation American, I can only speak for myself about what they mean to me.

I was born in the Borough of Manhattan in New York City in 1950.  Conceived into a family whose father, uncles and their friends served in the United States Army in Germany and in the Pacific during World War II, one couldn’t help but hearing the Phrases of America.  The images I received from the survivors of that war were simple and there was one message that came across loud and clear.  They were proud of the accomplishment of helping defeat Germany and Japan. They saved democracy for all of us.  It was simple. They were the heroes of the world.

The air of patriotism that surrounded me during childhood was downright contagious and in a short period of time, I too felt proud to be an American. There was no question that it was “good” to be an American. The proud WWII heroes weren’t the only ones who defined what was good about America.  It came from many others as well – parents, teachers, priests and of course the local beat cop, to name just a few.

In part, my parents were considered “good” Catholics because they did not use birth control in accordance to the teachings of the Catholic Church. As a result, the number of children in my immediate family grew from one to seven by the time I was ten years old. I was the first child and only boy.  Despite the fact that my family was large, economically poor and survived on the 100% disability pension my father received as a result of the injuries sustained during the war, life as an American on the whole was good.  There always seemed to be a sense of safety and comfort in those early years.

The area in Manhattan in which I grew up is officially known as Clinton but is better known as Hell's Kitchen. Although the name of Hell’s Kitchen does represent a notorious neighborhood and the name glamorized the area, many of us natives are grateful and proud to have grown up during those times. It seems like it was the best kept secret in the world that the neighborhood was safe and only those who lived there knew it!  I guess one could say that the “rift-raft rich” were kept out.

For me, my neighborhood was a place where America was portrayed by the Phrases of America.  I lived through each and every one of those phrases during my early childhood.  It was a time where one could believe and count on the words that were written and spoken.   It was also a time where one could definitely tell the difference between good and bad in all areas of life.

New York City is considered the social experiment of the world because of the immigrants from many countries settling there, and Hell’s Kitchen was a small part of it.  I was fortunate to have experienced the ethnic diversity of an expanding New York City at such a young age.  It helped me become color blind . . . to accept people for who they are, and not to pre-judge them because of their race, color or religion.

The acceptance of others was something that my parents, aunts and uncles and their friends instilled in me as a young child. And this idea of equality did not end at home. It was also nurtured at school, on the streets and in places of worship. If you were good, you were good, period.  And if not, well . . . but the rules were the same for everyone – everyone was treated equally and all of us had the same chance at succeeding in life.

Since there was a baby boom on at the time, the melting-pot neighborhood was filled with families of many different nationalities and religious backgrounds.  As a result there were various schools and places of worship that served them.  Since I was Catholic I attended a Catholic grammar school.  The name of the school is the Sacred Heart of Jesus, which was two blocks from where we lived.  Many in the immediate area either went to Sacred Heart or across the street to Public School 111.  School was a place where the seeds were planted for a future in what was often referred to as America – the “land of the free, home of the brave” and “only in America, the land of opportunity”. 

The first twelve years of my indoctrination as a proud American and good Catholic were interesting, educational and were intended to prepare me for the future.  It was taught, understood and accepted that if you learned the lessons in school and received a good basic education, worked hard and lived an honest life, and obeyed the rules set out by society, there would be success waiting for you in life.  There was little doubt that growing up in Hell’s Kitchen and attending Sacred Heart of Jesus School provided a well-rounded education as well as an understanding about what America stood for.

At school there were the lessons about teamwork as well as winning and losing when I became involved with team sports in hockey and baseball.  At church I made the “big-time” when I became an altar boy at St. Patrick’s Cathedral where I met many priests, bishops and cardinals from all over the world.  Meeting them was similar to experiencing another melting pot of our society but on a different level.  The neighborhood also provided opportunities and comforts of its own.

Madison Square Garden was a block away.  It was convenient to attend hockey and basketball games, and other events like the circus and wrestling.  And just as night followed day, there was the reassuring knowledge that the New York Yankees would always be in the World Series.  This was considered a fact because the same question was automatically asked every year – who was going to play the Yankees in the World Series?

I think that the best event in those first twelve years happened in 1960 for the WWII heroes and the families of the neighborhood.  That WWII Veteran, John Fitzgerald Kennedy became the youngest person to be elected as President of the United States of America.  He was also the first “Catholic” who was elected, not that it made any difference to me at the time……and I suppose it still doesn’t – to me that is.

Those early years in my neighborhood certainly provided evidence that it was more than appropriate to refer to JFK’s time in office as the legendary kingdom of Camelot.  In the eyes of a child, the Phrases of America were made very real as a result of the foundation that was built by my family, the neighborhood and was reinforced by the words and actions of JFK.  It certainly was an exciting time in America when JFK was President. It was like being under the influence of a magic spell.

I still remember the time that the hundreds of people in the neighborhood were waiting on the sidewalks to get a glimpse of JFK when his motorcade passed on his way to Madison Square Garden for an event. Although there was a scheduled time that his car was supposed to pass, and it was long-overdue, no one complained -- they were too excited to complain. It gave the neighbors a reason to hang out and talk -- And talk they did!  They talked highly about JFK as our president and our dreams, hopes and aspirations.

JFK was an uplifting spirit for the people of America but on the sidewalks of Hell’s Kitchen that night as his motorcade drove by, the people of Hell’s Kitchen had their own special hero who would lead them out of the everyday struggle of the working class life.  He inspired everyone who heard him speak.  And that inspiration went into high gear on inauguration day.

Although television was in its infant stages of use in political campaigns in 1960, it provided the vehicle for JFK gear up his charisma, charm, strength of character and leadership abilities to the masses.  By the time inauguration day came along it appeared that the people were primed for change.  And in a short time on that crisp and clear January day, the magic began. 

"Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country!"

JFK’s  famous words came booming at all of us – the rich, poor, black, white, brown, red, yellow and even those of us from other planets  --  I imagine that his words struck a chord in many of us.  I know they did with me.

In thinking back about that time, I believe it was his words and actions that provided the freedom to truly live and breathe as Americans; his words and actions lit the torch and supplied the courage to openly struggle for true equality for all people; and his words and actions that inspired We the People to rise up and stand together against those who only preached the Phrases of America and did little if anything to put them into practice.

On that crisp and clear January day when John Fitzgerald Kennedy took his oath as President of the United States of America, the sixties began and so did the turmoil.  And our newly elected President warmly embraced his part as leader of We the People and Americans appeared to meet those embraces with open arms of their own.

At the time of Kennedy’s election, I was ten years old and in the fourth grade.  I was more than happy to complete my daily chore of picking up the newspaper at Sammy’s, the local candy store because I got the paper first.  I was able to read the stories about the issues that were going on in the world and how our leader was addressing them.  Not that I fully understood any of them but I nonetheless believed what was written because there really was a belief in “truth in advertising” back then.  Another benefit of picking up the paper was that I was also able to track the progress of the Yankees and keep tabs on some of my favorite comic strips like Beetle Bailey, Blondie and Dick Tracy.

There were so many notable events that transpired during the Kennedy years; it almost seems that we lived through more than one lifetime.  Kennedy seemed to be attempting to lay the foundation of many good things to come for We the People.  With that said, keep in mind that there is no gain without suffering and pain because there was much of that during his short time in office.

The civil rights movement seemed to burst out at the seams during the Kennedy years.  A civil rights movement where Dr. Martin Luther King led the nation in a peaceful Gandhiesque manner that strived for the civil rights of all – yes, for all of us – not just people of color.  One of the ingredients of the cold war between the United States and Russia was the race in space where in the first year of his administration we saw the first American travel into space.  JFK knew the race in space was ever so important that he committed that America would land on the moon by the end of the decade.  Although there were other major events during his administration, there is one that stands head and shoulders above them all and that is the Cuban missile crisis.

In October of 1962, it came to light that Cuba was attempting to install missiles armed with nuclear warheads with the support of America’s former WWII ally, Russia.  President Kennedy took the stance that missiles could not be installed in Cuba because it threatened America’s national security and safety.  And he was willing to put his money where his mouth was in this conflict – just like the true WWII hero as he was portrayed to be.

The ordeal of the Cuban missile crisis between Russia and the United States lasted just thirteen days but felt like a lifetime.  Included during that time, implied by the media or otherwise, was the idea that a nuclear war between the United States and Russia was a stark reality. There were all sorts of preparation made for a potential nuclear attack. 

I recall the drills in classes about what to do in the event we were bombed – instructions to hide under the desks when the alarms sounded or to know the location of the closest bomb shelters.  There were also people beginning to build nuclear bomb shelters in or around their homes and the civil service test announcements were heard daily – “This is a test.  If this were an actual emergency you would be instructed to turn to . . . . . .”.  It was the first time in my short life that I saw fear in people.  Thanks to television, it was also a time that Americans everywhere worked and prayed together in preparation for something that never came from Russia.  This experience supported the idea that the America I learned of in my neighborhood was much the same everywhere else – that people lived and worked together side-by-side.

In the end though, it came down to the United States placing a naval blockade around Cuba to prevent any ships containing missiles or nuclear warheads from going on to Cuba. With the world looking on in fear of a conflict between the two nuclear powers, JFK won this battle of wits with Russia’s Nikita Khrushchev when Russian blinked in this game of chicken and the Russian ships began turning around and went back were they came from.

Another highlight that October was that the New York Yankees won their twentieth World Series.  1962 was a very good year for this native New Yorker’s America because the year certainly had its share of heroes.  John Fitzgerald Kennedy and Mickey Mantle were amongst them.

On the local front, 1962 is the first year that I played goalie for my grammar school team.  I made the team as its first string goalie and we played in the finals of the CYO New York City Championship.  Unfortunately, we lost by the score of 2 to 1 in sudden death overtime.  Having been taught the lessons about winning and losing by playing poker with my father, aunt and uncle and their friends one night a month since I was seven, taught me that there was always another game tomorrow.  Although I was saddened by the loss of the championship, I learned from the loss and was looking forward to winning it all the following year.

In my thirteenth year, 1963, things seemed to be going along pretty good.  I entered into the eighth grade, my grades were good and I made the hockey team for the second year.  Although the New York Yankees were New York’s winningest team in all of sports, hockey was the number one sport of the neighborhood because the New York Rangers played at Madison Square Garden and practiced at Iceland, which was a public skating ring attached to the Garden.  It seemed fitting that the roughest sport in the world was played in the toughest and one of the most “notorious” neighborhoods in America.  Yes, Madison Square Garden and Hell’s Kitchen seemed to be a match made in heaven – for us kids, anyway.

Suddenly and without warning, three months into the school year on November 22, 1963, our teacher Brother Bench was motioned to come to the door of the classroom by another teacher for a message.  He took the message and did not show any sort of emotion for a short time and then without warning, made a loud cry-like scream and angrily banged the wall of the classroom with his fist!  His surprise bang and scream sent shock waves through the class because he was always a mild and mannered person.  Clearly there was something wrong and no one could have imagined that the message was that our beloved President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was shot during a visit to Dallas, Texas.

When we were told what happened we were all in shock.  In a short period of time JFK was declared dead.  All classes were dismissed for the day and for the next few days the world stood still honoring a fallen leader.  Those days were filled with tears, fears and uncertainty.  For me, there were three questions that had immediately came to mind when I got over the initial shock, which still have not been answered to my satisfaction by our government – a government that isoften portrayed by the Phrases of America that begins with We the People.

How and why did our government allow our great leader to be assassinated?  Why was he assassinated in the state from which the vice president called home?  Who gave the orders to assassinate JFK?

My immediate suspicion based on my street smarts and gut level thoughts told me that the vice president was somehow involved – he came from Texas where JFK was assassinated and he was one of the most powerful people in the government prior to becoming vice president.  The looks on Jacqueline Kennedy’s face sent a subliminal message that there was something not right about the situation with Lyndon B. Johnson who succeeded JFK as our President.

For the first time in my short life, the foundation of my America was shaken. There is no seismograph made that can measure the effects of the shock that occurred to the world on that fateful day. The man who inspired a Camelot for our future was now dead.  Now, instead of believing in JFK’s visions, dreams and ideas that one day there would be a place like Camelot, the only thing that was left for us was the hope that he passed the torch to a new generation of Americans that would make it a reality for all of us.  There were also many more questions that needed to be answered now than ever before.

What was going to happen with the civil rights movement, the race to get to the moon and the unrest in the political arena regarding the spread of communism in South East Asia, specifically Vietnam? The biggest question of all was: Could or would our new President Lyndon B. Johnson fulfill the dreams that were inspired by our now fallen hero and leader, JFK?

As the nation and the world sat on needles and pins for the future to unfold after the burial of our dearly loved and long to be missed John Fitzgerald Kennedy, everyday life had to go on for the ones who remain.

Excerpted from the work in progress “Democratic Royalty Hard at Work”

Copyright 2006 Bill Murawski - All rights reserved