Kim Jong Un Hosts K-pop Group as U.S., South Korea Resume Military Exercises

• North Korean leader Kim Jong Un said he was “deeply moved” after a performance by South Korean pop stars in Pyongyang on Sunday, according to the state-run KCNA news agency.
• North and South Korea renewed relations for the first time in roughly two years in January and plan to hold a summit on April 27.
• The K-Pop performance coincided with the renewal of military exercises by the U.S. and South Korea on the Korean Peninsula.

North Korean leader Kim Jong Un said he was “deeply moved” after a performance by South Korean pop stars in Pyongyang on Sunday, according to the state-run KCNA news agency.

“When such good atmosphere is preserved carefully and continuously, only the beautiful spring when new buds sprout and flowers blossom and the rich autumn when the crops are abundant will always be in the way of our fellow countrymen,” Kim reportedly said.

The concert, which was dubbed “Spring Is Coming,” occurred as part of recent efforts by North and South Korea to rekindle diplomatic relations. The event included performances by the popular K-pop girl band Red Velvet and rock star Yoon Do-hyun. Kim was reportedly especially interested in seeing Red Velvet and highly pleased with the group’s performance.

Images released by North Korean media show Kim and his wife, Ri Sol Ju, smiling and clapping as they attended the concert.

In short, the North Korean leader seemed to enjoy the event a great deal.

Reuters

Reuters

The concert came not long after after Kim made a historic visit to Beijing and coincided with the renewal of military exercises by the U.S. and South Korea on the Korean Peninsula. The exercises, collectively known as Foal Eagle, will last roughly a month and involve over 11,500 U.S. troops and approximately 300,000 South Korean forces.

In the past, Pyongyang has decried such exercises and described them as rehearsals for an invasion. But North Korea agreed not to object to the exercises this year after a deal was made for Kim and Trump to meet.

Reuters/Kim Hong-Ji

In 2017, North Korea conducted a slew of missile tests as it pursued a nuclear weapon capable of reaching the mainland U.S. This greatly angered the international community and generated a war of words between Trump and Kim, who frequently traded insults and threats from across the globe. In early 2018, however, North and South Korea renewed dialogue for the first time in roughly two years. This ultimately led to the North’s participation in February’s Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea. The two Koreas are also set to hold a summit in late April. Meanwhile, the North has also agreed to refrain from further missile testing.

The Trump administration’s decision to agree to a meeting with the North Korean leader has been heavily scrutinized. Critics contend it grants too much legitimacy to the rogue state, but supporters of the president are hopeful it will lead to denuclearization and peace on the Korean Peninsula.

Experts Warn Trump Against Meeting Putin in Washington: ‘Do Not Invite’

• President Donald Trump proposed holding a meeting at the White House during a recent phone call with Russian President Vladimir Putin, a Kremlin aide told reporters Monday.
• The White House confirmed Trump and Putin discussed holding a meeting in the “not too distant future” during the phone call but said it has “nothing further to add at this time.”
• This news comes amid major diplomatic tensions between Russia, the U.S. and its allies in relation to the poisoning of Sergei V. Skripal, a former Russian double agent.
• Experts warn inviting Putin to the White House would be a “mistake.”

President Donald Trump proposed holding a meeting at the White House during a recent phone call with Russian President Vladimir Putin, a Kremlin aide told reporters Monday, a move experts warn could have grave political consequences.

“If everything goes well, I hope that the American side would not refuse its proposal to discuss the possibility of organizing the summit talks,” Kremlin aide Yury Ushakov said, according to Russian news agency TASS. “During a telephone conversation between our presidents, Trump suggested that the first meeting could be held in Washington.”

Reuters/Carlos Barria

On Monday, White House Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders confirmed Trump and Putin discussed holding a meeting in the “not-too-distant-future” during the March 20 phone call, in which Trump controversially congratulated the Russian leader on his recent reelection (he was warned against doing so by his national security advisers). The two world leaders reportedly suggested a number of different venues for the potential meeting, including the White House, during the conversation. But no specific date has been set and the Trump administration said it has “nothing further to add at this time.”

This news comes amid heightened diplomatic tensions between Russia, the U.S. and its allies in relation to the poisoning of Sergei V. Skripal––a former Russian double agent––in the UK. Skripal’s daughter was also poisoned.

The British and U.S. governments have accused Russia of orchestrating the poisoning and have both taken diplomatic actions as a result. Last month, the Trump administration expelled 60 Russian diplomats. Russia responded shortly thereafter by expelling 60 U.S. diplomats.

Meanwhile, the investigation into the Trump campaign’s alleged collusion with Russian interference in the 2016 U.S. presidential election is ongoing. The president has frequently referred to this investigation as a “witch hunt” and maintains there was no collusion.

In this context, a meeting between Trump and Putin would be heavily scrutinized––particularly if it occurred at the White House.

Ushakov acknowledged the troubled state of relations between the U.S. and Russia on Monday, stating there have been no discussions of a meeting since the phone call on March 20. “In the wake of the recent developments, it would be difficult to discuss a summit,” Ushakov said. But the Kremlin aide also said he believed a meeting between the two leaders “would be rather important and beneficial for both countries, as well as for the entire global community.”

Reuters/Jorge Silva

Trump and Putin met at the G20 summit in Germany last July and at the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit in Vietnam in November. But experts warn a summit in Washington would be far more symbolic and might send the wrong message.

Dr. Pavel Baev, a fellow at Brookings Institution and Russia expert, said it would be a huge “mistake” for Trump to hold a summit with Putin in Washington.

“If [Trump’s] national security team instructed him ‘DO NOT CONGRATULATE,’ his legal team should have written in even larger letters ‘DO NOT INVITE.’ It is not just a risky initiative, it is also quite inappropriate, given Trump’s decision to expel very high number of diplomats––and given a high probability of further sanctions,” Baev said via email on Monday.

Baev said Trump already made a mistake in agreeing to meet with North Korean leader Kim Jong Un and has made yet another diplomatic and strategic error by discussing a potential summit with Putin. “Sometimes, mistakes can cancel one another, but in this case, aggravation is looming,” Baev said.

Dr. Brandon Valeriano, Donald Bren Chair of Armed Politics at Marine Corps University, expressed similar sentiments.

“There is really no point in engaging Putin directly unless there is an intention to settle the outstanding issues between the states: the 2016 election hack, the invasion of Ukraine, the invasion of Georgia, human rights violations in Syria and to gain leverage over Iran and North Korea in future negotiations,” Valeriano said. “Without a serious effort to deal with these issues, any diplomatic meeting will be hollow.”

Millennials Are Poised to Remake American Politics: The Most Optimistic Generation

(Image Source: Salon)

By John Haltiwanger

Millennials are breaking the trend of bipartisanship in the US, and it seems they will change the very landscape of American politics.  Recent reports from both Pew and Third Way have shown that more Millennials are open to ideas on both sides of the political spectrum than was the case with previous generations.  This is precisely why recent polls have also shown that Millennials are increasingly identifying as independent.  As Michelle Diggles states in a recent study for the Democratic think tank Third Way, “Millennials are poised to remake politics.”

American Millennials, born roughly between 1981 and 2000, are the largest generation in American history.  To put this into context, there are roughly 78 million Baby Boomers but there are 95 million Millennials.

Millennials are often accused of being disengaged when it comes to politics.  This new report from Diggle reveals is that this is far from the case.  Rather, it seems that Millennials are changing the way that the population participates in politics, and breaking away from tradition.

This is not surprising, given most Millennials grew up during the Bush era.  Thus, it is likely that many of them graduated from high school or college at the height of the War on Terror and in the midst of the worst economic calamity since the Great Depression.  This generation saw their countries name defamed across the world as the US failed miserably in two dubious conflicts, received widespread criticism for establishing Gitmo, and engaged in abhorrent practices such as Enhanced Interrogation Techniques (torture).  Furthermore, most Millennials have come into adulthood in one of the worst job markets in American history.  They understand the value of a paying job, and how difficult it can be to make ends meet, let alone get hired.  Consequently, it is apparent that many members of this generation have become disillusioned with traditional views of the US as a result of growing up through these national traumas:

Millennials don’t seem to take comfort in the same things as their elders do. A new study from the Pew Research Center called Millennials in Adulthood finds that far fewer of them identify with a religion or a political party. They’re less likely to be married than previous generations were at the same age. Only half call themselves patriotic, and a scant 1 in 5 thinks that most people can be trusted. Just a handful expect that Social Security will pay in full when they need it. (Source: Bloomberg Businessweek)

Yet, given these circumstances it is also remarkable that Millennials are, statistically, the most hopefully generation in American history.  Noam Chomsky once said, “Optimism is a strategy for making a better future. Because unless you believe that the future can be better, you are unlikely to step up and take responsibility for making it so.”  And it appears that Millennials agree with him.

Research has shown that Millennials are perhaps the most optimistic generation America has ever seen, which is reflected in their approach to politics and social issues.  The indefatigable positivity of this generation, combined with its fiercely socially tolerant perspectives, makes it one of the most unique social groups in American history.  Despite a lack of faith in the effectiveness of government, Millennials believe fervently that the government does have the potential to improve people’s lives.  It is evident that Millennials desire to change the structure and framework of the US government in order to accomplish these goals.

Millennials are fed up with the status quo and want to fundamentally change the way the US does business.  They are tired of seeing the two-party system fail to meet the needs of the American people.  They are fed up with petty politicians delaying the progress of the nation as a result of ego and a desire to tow the party line.   Hence, American Millennials are turning away from both Democrats and Republicans.  Although the GOP is probably in more trouble, as the socially liberal perspectives of Millennials do not coincide with their conservative platform.  As this recent Pew poll shows, despite the fact that many Millennials identify as independent, the majority vote Democrat.

As Diggle notes, Millennials embrace racial and ethnic diversity, including immigrants.  This shouldn’t come as a huge surprise, given they are statistically the most diverse generation in American history.  They also “question American exceptionalism, instead emphasizing cooperative engagement.”  Moreover, Millennials diverge on culture war issues, and are open to both liberal and conservative ideas, and perhaps even a mixture of both.  For example, a majority of Millennials support marriage equality, even those who identify as Republican or conservative (61%).

So it is clear that Millennials are not as ideologically entrapped as previous generations as they have learned the hard way that this does nothing but serve to the detriment of the nation.  As the most technological connected, progressive, and globally minded generation in history, they also have the tools and networking abilities at their disposal to work towards the changes they desire.

The generation that saw America through the Great Depression and Word War II is often referred to as the Greatest Generation.  Those two events were arguably the greatest challenges America has ever faced, and it is undeniable that America rose out of them for the better because of that remarkable generation.  Their hard work and intrepid willpower established the US as a global hegemon, and it fostered one of the greatest economies in the history of the world.  It would be premature to say that Millennials will have to same impact on history or the US as the Greatest Generation.  Yet their unbridled optimism makes one hopeful of their potential to put this country back on track and permanently change it for the better.  The Greatest Generation gained their name for their incredible deeds; perhaps similarly, Millennials will one day be labeled as The Optimistic Generation for their inexhaustible belief and desire to see the impossible occur.

The Caucasus – Beautiful, Complex, and Neglected: Why We Need to Pay More Attention

The Caucasus is a region often forgotten, in both history and current foreign policy debates.  Located at the crossroads of Europe and Asia, it is neither distinctly European nor Asiatic in either culture or politics.  With Russia to the north, Turkey to the west, and Iran to the south, one can imagine the political, cultural, and religious clashes that have occurred in the region over the centuries.  The Persians, Ottomans, Russian Empire, and Soviet Union all fought and ruled over parts of the Caucasus at one point or another.  It rests between the Black and Caspian Seas, and is home to the majestic Caucasus Mountains, including Europe’s highest mountain – Mount Elbrus.  It is a mysterious place – a land as culturally and ethnically diverse as it is geographically.

Throughout the 20^th century, the region was both geographically and politically isolated as part of the Soviet Union, and foreigners rarely traveled there.  In the aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union, the region has struggled to regain its strength, and has been subject to many regional conflicts.  Today, the Caucasus generally refers to a northern area under Russian jurisdiction, and a southern area consisting of three sovereign and independent states – Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan.   It is located in a vital territory, yet it seems that many of us in the West know very little about it and are often guilty of ignoring it.  This is somewhat understandable as the majority of the area only became accessible to the outside world around 20 years ago, but it would be a mistake to continue this trend of ignorance and neglect.  When it was revealed that the Boston Marathon Bomber was of Chechen origin, many Americans immediately confused Chechnya with Czechoslovakia – which doesn’t even exist anymore, and is obviously a completely different place.  While this probably exposes a need for improved lessons in history and geography in American schools it is also a testament to the lack of attention given to the Caucasus region in general and its tumultuous history.

In August 2008, the Caucasus briefly captured the world’s attention as a result of a short conflict between Russia and Georgia over the now Russian occupied territories of South Ossetia and Abkhazia – also known as the Five-Day War.  More recently, there has been concern over the region in relation to the upcoming Winter Olympics in Sochi.  In December 2013, there were two suicide bombings within one day in the Russian city of Volgograd, killing 34 people.  Volgograd is a city that many will likely have to travel through on their way from Moscow to Sochi, hence the heightened concerns over security in relation to the Olympics.  Vilayat Dagestan, a subgroup of the Caucasus Emirate, which is based in the North Caucasus, has claimed responsibility for the attacks.  The Caucasus Emirate has ties with Al Qaeda and has been designated a terrorist organization by the governments of both Russia and the United States.  Thus, we have seen violence of varying character and degree in the area, even within the past decade.

The dispute over Abkhazia and South Ossetia is nothing new, but even recently (January 2014) the Georgian government has complained that Russia has moved its border 11 km further into Abkhazia.  Abkhazia lies about 10 km from Sochi, where the 2014 Winter Olympics will be held.  Thus, this is obviously still a very relevant and contentious issue.  In essence, the Caucasus is a dynamic region with a complicated history.  As such, it would be dangerous to make generalizations about the region, and even more perilous to ignore it.

In January 2012, I traveled to the Republic of Georgia to work as a volunteer English teacher for the Georgian government.  To be perfectly honest, I was extremely unfamiliar with Georgia’s history, politics, and culture upon my arrival in the capital, Tbilisi.  Despite having a degree in history, virtually the only thing I knew about Georgia was that Joseph Stalin was from there.  My only other knowledge of the Caucasus came from a report I did in AP Comparative Government in high school on Chechnya and Shamil Basayev many years earlier.  Basayev, who was killed in 2006, was essentially Russia’s “Osama bin Laden” throughout the 90’s and early 2000’s.  Needless to say, my perception of the region was not very positive, or comprehensive.  So you might be wondering why I went to Georgia in the first place.  I ask myself the same question quite often.  When it comes down to it, I think it was curiosity.  Ultimately, I had one of the most formative and incredible experiences of my life, and I gained many important insights into the August 2008 war as well as into the culture and history of the Caucasus in general.

While many people quickly forgot about the conflict between Russia and Georgia in 2008, it became immediately apparent to me that the conflict had left deep scars in Georgia.  I spent my first week in Georgia in Tbilisi, but was quickly moved to Rokhi, a village in the region of Imereti, about 30 km from Georgia’s second largest city – Kutaisi.  For 6 months I lived with a wonderful host family, who spoke little-to-no English – but they welcomed me with open arms and treated me like one of their own.  If you ever travel to the Caucasus you will find that it is probably the most hospitable region in the world.  You will be treated like a king or a queen at numerous feasts, and you will find yourself engaged in countless traditional toasts with homemade wine, chacha (Georgian moonshine), or cognac.  Strangers will welcome you into their homes, and if you are a male some might even offer you their daughters hand in marriage.  Within my first two weeks in the village I was reminded of the 2008 war, as some of the boys I taught brought me over to a grave near the village church.  It was the grave of a village boy who had fought and died in the war.  Within a few minutes of visiting the grave, a few men walked over with a bottle full of clear liquid.  It was chacha, and they were more than happy to pour me a small cup (in fact they insisted).  We stood there for several minutes as they gave emotional toasts to the fallen soldier in Georgian, and we all finished with the Georgian word for cheers, “Gaumarjos,” which translates literally to “victory.”

In my second week in Georgia, I received a somewhat frantic phone call from a close friend that was also teaching there.  He was living in a village 5 km from Abkhazia.  On a taxi ride home, the car that he was in was stopped at a military checkpoint.  Georgian soldiers almost immediately surrounded the taxi with their weapons at the ready. The soldiers questioned him about his presence in the area.  They were very confused as to why an American would be venturing so close to Abkhazia.  Luckily he spoke basic Georgian and had papers on him that explained why he was in the country, but we were quickly learning that this conflict was far from over and was certainly nothing to joke about.

Over my time in Georgia I was constantly reminded of the war.  My host family’s house had no heating, except for a small space heater and fireplace in the kitchen.  Thus, during the winter I spent much of my time in that room.  It’s not much fun waking up to a room in which you can see your breath, but I was grateful for the space that they gave me.  My host family had a small television in the corner of the kitchen; it was almost always switched to the news, which my host mother watched religiously.  Despite my limited knowledge of Georgian, which grew over time, I picked up numerous stories that focused on the war almost weekly.  There were also frequent advertisements for the film “5 Days of August” – which focuses on the Russia-Georgia war and stars Andy García as Mikheil Saakashvili (then President of Georgia).  The film seemed to stir an emotional response in my host mother, as well as others that visited the house.

Over time I had many conversations with different Georgians about the war, including the host siblings of friends living near Zugdidi, a city of around 75,000, who could remember being quite terrified as military planes flew over their house during those dark days.  Perhaps the most unexpected reference I found to the war was in Gori, Stalin’s birthplace.  I visited the Stalin Museum and the house that Ioseb Jugashvili (his original, Georgian, name) was born in.  It was odd to visit a place dedicated to the memory of Stalin and Stalinism, and to see a statue of him in a public area.  The last exhibit in the museum documented the Five-Day War, and showed pictures of homes in Gori that had been destroyed during the conflict.  It seemed ironic to me that they would pay homage to the recent conflict in a museum that was created by a Stalinist agent to prop up the cult of a dictator and mass murderer – but it also illustrated the complex history of Georgia and the ambivalent sentiment towards both Stalin and Russia within the country.

As my host family spoke very little English, I had to learn to communicate with them, so I worked very hard on my Georgian throughout my time in the country.  Eventually, I was able to have conversations beyond “where is the bathroom” or “what is for dinner,” and on a night when I finally felt comfortable about it I questioned my host father about the conflict.  I asked him if he hated Russia.  He looked at me with a very confused expression and immediately replied no.  He was silent for a second, and I thought I had offended him.  Eventually he explained that he did not hate the Russian people, and in fact had many Russian friends – at one point he had been a soldier in the Soviet Army and had spent some time in Afghanistan.  His problem, he explained, was with Putin and the Russian government.  I had to admire him for that statement, and for making that important distinction.

For many Georgians, the 2008 conflict was simply fought to reclaim territory that was theirs in the first place, and Russia had been far too aggressive and cruel in their response.  To this day, Georgia sees Abkhazia and South Ossetia as part of its territory.  Initially, it was hard for me to understand the idiosyncrasies of this as an outsider.  Thus, as a student of history I read more into the conflict and its context in order to gain a more objective perspective.  What I essentially concluded was that Georgia had perhaps imprudently invaded these territories under the false impression that its foreign allies would come to its aid (the United States), and under the conviction that the territories indeed belonged within its borders.  I also learned that Abkhazia and South Ossetia are ethnically and linguistically distinct from both Georgia and Russia, and they both desire independence – not union with Georgia.

I quickly found that Georgia, and the entire region of the Caucasus, was more diverse than I could have possibly imagined.  Georgia is a nation of just under 5 million people, yet there are 3 indigenous languages spoken there (Kartuli or Georgian, Svan, and Mingrelian) and multiple ethnicities.  Eventually I realized that there was no simple answer or explanation to the conflict, and perceptions of its causes were riddled with bias and historical misunderstanding.  I think what this reveals is a need to approach the region with caution, and to take a deeper look at its complex history in order to understand the conflicts and disputes that plague it today.

On my second night in Georgia, I ventured deep into the heart of Tbilisi.  I was with a friend and we had no idea where we were going, but we were simply trying to get a feel for the place.  After about an hour of walking in the frigid cold of a Georgian winter night, we both spotted an Irish flag out of the corner of our eyes.  It was sitting on top of an Irish pub, the Hangar Bar.  A half-Irish and half-Georgian woman who had gone to the University of Virginia owned the pub – it’s a small world.  Interestingly enough, the bar was full of Americans and expats alike.  Many of these people were American military, and this had me very confused.  Why was the American military in Tbilisi?  I was offered a very quick education on this from a friendly US Marine sitting up at the bar.  He explained that he was there, along with other personnel, to train the Georgian military.  The marine explained that he would be there for 3 weeks, and then he would be cycled out and replaced.  Over the course of our conversation it became apparent that America had been doing this for years (it was then 2012).

In 2002 America began sending its soldiers to Georgia to train the military there under what is known as the Georgia Train and Equip Program, which was followed by the Georgia Sustainment and Stability Operations Program – military training programs between the US and Georgia.  I later learned that the some of Georgian military had been deployed to Afghanistan, and Georgia is now the largest non-NATO contributor to the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) in Afghanistan.  Upon learning this fact I immediately thought to myself – first these people were sent there under the Soviet Union, and now under the United States.  Throughout its history the Caucasus has been a staging ground for wider disputes, and its peoples have been caught in the mix.

Thus, it seemed that despite my lack of knowledge of the Caucasus it had captured the attention of the US government and military – and continues to.  As I learned during my time there, Georgia and America are considered best friends.  In fact, Georgians are not afraid to publicly express their love and gratitude towards the United States.  George W. Bush was the first American President to visit the country, and they quickly named the road leading to the Tbilisi airport after him.  In many cases, at various traditional feasts I attended, Georgians attempted to honor me by proposing toasts to President George W. Bush and Senator John McCain (who they are also very fond of).

Hence, while many Americans might have limited knowledge of Georgia and the region that surrounds it, their tax dollars are being spent there and the US is actively growing its military presence there.  Moreover, from a broader perspective, the Caucasus is a region that will likely continue to see violence as extremism continues to gain a foothold there – particularly in areas such as Dagestan, which directly borders Georgia and Chechnya.  It should be noted that despite the unremittingly rocky diplomatic relations between the US and Russia, organizations like the Caucasus Emirate view them both as enemies.  Hence, as the Winter Olympics are just around the corner, it would be a perfect time for one to become more familiar with the Caucasus and its unique beauty and history.

A Tribute to My Grandfather

On Thursday October 10, 2013 I received a text message from my father to call him ASAP at around 3:30 AM Scotland time.  I was tired, but awake, after a long shift at the restaurant I currently work at.  For some reason, I immediately assumed that I had done something wrong.  It was odd for my Dad to be texting me so late, he has traveled too many times in his life to forget about time differences.  I am 25-years-old, so there’s not much my parents can yell at me for at this point in life (in theory at least).  But I suppose the only other time I received such urgent requests for contact from my parents was during my teenage years, when I was out past curfew with a girlfriend, or was found to be engaged in some form of tomfoolery or another.  So my immediate response was a product of conditioning, somewhat instinctual I suppose.  As I dialed the number and the phone began to ring, however, I realized that there was no possible way I had done something wrong.  After all, I live across an ocean, I’m an adult, and even if my Dad was truly furious with me about something, he probably wouldn’t attempt to wake me up in the middle of the night.  As my tired mind worked out this logic, my heart sank, and I realized that I was about to receive some bad news.  My Dad apologized for contacting me so late, and let me know that my grandpa, John Couch Haltiwanger Sr., had passed away.  It has been difficult to process this news, in many ways I have yet to do so, but I can say that my grandpa and my family have not left my thoughts since I received the news.  So with a heavy heart I boarded a plane in Glasgow, Scotland early on Saturday morning, and made my way across the Atlantic towards home.

My full name is John Couch Haltiwanger III.  Let’s be honest, it’s a pretty goofy name.  Throughout my life I have heard pretty much every possible joke you could think of regarding my name, and I have had at least a dozen nicknames since elementary school.  I have received this playful ridicule from all angles; from peers, teachers, coaches, professors, and given my recent international adventures, even border officers.  I like a good joke, however, so it’s never really bothered me.  In fact, my name has always been a source of great personal pride for me.  The first Haltiwanger to come to the colonies that would eventually become the United States was an Austrian man named John Haltiwanger.  He came to South Carolina in 1750 and received 50 acres of land under the headrights system, which as far as I know still belongs to the Haltiwanger’s to this day.  He fought in the Revolutionary War and received a commendation for wounds inflicted when carrying dispatches through enemy lines; this is actually recorded in the Library of Congress.  My middle name, Couch, is my great grandmother’s maiden name, and out of curiosity I looked up its meaning in the past year.  Don’t know why it took me a quarter-century to look into this, but hey, better late than never.  Apparently the name Couch is derived from the fact that my ancestors were indeed involved in couch making, they made furniture, plain and simple.  And hey, who doesn’t like a good couch?  Most of all, however, I am proud of my name because I am named after two of the men I love and admire most in this world, my father and my grandfather.  My grandpa may be gone, but my name is a perpetual reminder of his legacy.  And you can bet your bottom dollar that if I have a son he will be named John Couch Haltiwanger IV.  If I had to live with the middle name Couch, so will my offspring… it builds character.

It is very difficult for me to explain what my grandfather meant to me.  I guess I would start by saying he was a giant.  He was physically tall, at 6’ 4” he was always an imposing presence, but even more so, it was his character that made him stand out.  My grandfather was a man that did not necessarily demand respect, but seemed to earn it naturally.  He was intelligent, handsome, charismatic, witty, funny, charming, but also very serious and sensitive at times.  If he were here today he would probably say to me, “Lil’ John, what’s that on your face?” And then chuckle to himself.  He would be referring to my facial hair, which he has always poked fun at, whether it was my peach fuzz as a teenager, or this scruffy thing you see now.  He came from a very well groomed generation, so I suppose it was way of poking fun at himself and me simultaneously.  But my grandfather often greeted people with a joke, even strangers, and it was something I loved about him.  He was great at putting people at ease.

I once asked my Dad to describe what it was like growing up with my grandpa as a father.  My Dad said, “Have you ever seen the Cosby show?  Bill Cosby described his Dad as a man who never opened a door when he entered a room.”  I asked him to explain, I didn’t quite get it.  He basically meant that the door was such an insignificant obstacle that my gigantic grandfather just walked right through it.  My grandfather was a powerful man with a daunting presence, and I will always remember marveling at his strength when I was a child.  He was the type of man you did not want to disappoint, and you certainly did not want to make him angry.  Which made it especially difficult to see his strength diminish as he got older, but he took it in stride and often joked about it.  He was always so positive about things.  I can only hope that I can follow his example in my old age, and transition into my twilight years so gracefully.

My grandpa was definitely a product of his generation, the Greatest Generation.  He was born in the 1920’s, and it is baffling for me to think about the events and changes he lived through.  To put this into context, my grandfather was born into prohibition America, saw it end not long after, lived through the Great Depression, served his country in WWII, lived through the Cold War, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Era, Korea, Vietnam, the assassinations of JFK, RFK, and MLK Jr., the first Gulf War, September 11^th, the War on Terror, and he witnessed the first black man elected as President of the United States (although he was not afraid to tell you that he didn’t vote for him).  When I was somewhat younger, perhaps around 10, my Aunt Jane began asking my grandparents to fill out books that asked them questions about their lives, in order to have a record of their memories.  One question always stuck out to me, and my grandfather’s particular response.  It was something along the lines of “Did you experience any great challenges in your youth?”  He answered in block capital letters “THE GREAT DEPRESSION.”  He didn’t need to elaborate.  I have always been a student of history, at this point I possess a degree in it, but my knowledge of the Great Depression was quite limited at that point.  Even so, I remember that it dawned on me how much easier my young life was compared to the early life my grandpa lived.  If you knew my grandfather, and you knew him well, you know that he was a man of impeccable character and a testament to the “Greatest Generation.”

I believe that in many ways, my grandpa’s upbringing made him a very serious man at times.  Not in the sense that he did not have a sense of humor, but he wasn’t necessarily a sentimental person.  I think sentimentality must have been difficult during the Great Depression and WWII, and it was not surprising that these events were so influential in his life and the formulation of his character.  I believe this is also why my grandpa believed fiercely in making one’s own way in the world.  You could tell that he valued individual effort and success.  This is something that I always admired about him.  However, it was also very much a product of his immense stubbornness.  Which is a quality that my father and I have also inherited, and the females in my family have not let us forget it.  His stubborn individualism was probably one of his best and worst qualities.  I suppose that it often goes this way with a lot of people.

One thing you cannot deny about my grandfather however, regardless of his stubborn nature or sometimes-serious disposition, was his dedication and love for his family.  One simply has to look at the wonderful people my father and his siblings have become.  They are successful, intelligent, caring, and dynamic personalities as a result of my amazing grandparents.  Together my grandparents have built a wonderful family, and we love them more than they can know.

Everyone’s relationship with a person is unique, and I suppose it is often difficult to accurately capture and describe that to other people, but I’d like to share with you several memories of my grandfather that I will always cherish:

One of my earliest memories of my grandfather is in Paris, when I was 5-years-old.  My father had business to attend to there, and he decided to bring the whole family along.  My grandparents decided to do some European traveling that summer as well.  Specifically, I remember being carried on my grandpa’s shoulders through an outdoor market.  I felt like the tallest man in the world.  I could see everything, and my senses were overwhelmed.  The sights and smells are still vivid in my mind today, 20 years later.  Perhaps that’s why I still enjoy markets like this so much, and they will always remind me of my grandfather.

Fast-forward about 10 years.  When I was around 14 or 15-years-old, my grandparents needed some help around their old house in Gaithersburg, they were preparing to move out of it.  Over the summers I would come over and work on little projects here and there, enjoy my grandmother’s cooking, chat with my grandfather, and would often spend the night and watch a movie or two with them.  In general, my chats with my grandfather are probably what I will miss the most.  That man could talk.  If you knew him well, you know that he liked to talk.  And if you know me well, you know that I hardly ever shut up.  So perhaps I inherited this quality from him.  He was well versed in a multiplicity of subjects.  Whether we were discussing some historical event, his memories of sailing in Australia during the war, or searching the jungle in the Pacific for Japanese soldiers, but never finding any, or simply just talking about politics and sports, the conversation was always captivating.  He had an impeccable memory.  He could remember individual plays in basketball games that happened 40 years ago, and he loved UNC basketball.  I have to secretly admit that I loved the years when the University of Maryland team was better, I’ve been a lifelong fan; and it was great to playfully tease him about this.

My grandfather was one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, whether the conversation surrounded economics or Redskins football, he could hold his own with pretty much anybody.  That being said, my grandpa was the type of person that could probably convince you he knew everything about a subject even if he didn’t have a clue.  He just had a way about him.

I have a more specific memory from this time, when I was about 15-years-old, and I awoke one Saturday morning to the sting of young love.  My girlfriend had dumped me and I was sulking in my room about it.  My Dad was well aware of what had happened, and as he had some experience in being a young silly hopeless romantic in his teenage years he knew that I needed some sort of healthy distraction.  So he took me to my grandparent’s house to clean out their gutters and mow their lawn.  For some reason that day really cheered me up.  Maybe it was grandma’s cooking, or maybe it was just hanging out with grandpa, but I felt a lot better just being with them.  I have so many comforting and warm memories from my time with them, and particularly with my cousins in their old house.  They have an immense amount of patience for the numerous amounts of hyperactive grandchildren that ran through their household like it was a jungle gym as toddlers during the holidays.  Those are some of my very favorite memories.

I will end with a fairly recent memory of my grandfather:

I was a sophomore in college.  I was over at my grandparents for lunch during winter break or maybe spring break, and my grandpa started asking about my girlfriend at the time.  I’m not sure where grandma was, but she wasn’t in the room.  And then grandpa’s tone changed, and he said “You know something Lil’ John, between the ages of about 18 and 30 you’ll find that physical attraction might be the most important quality to you in a woman…” He paused, and I anticipated an awkward life chat from my grandfather, but he took a rather poignant turn… “But the fact of the matter is, one day you will be old, and looks won’t really matter anymore, and if you can’t stand to have a 5 minute conversation with that person, even when you are young, they aren’t the right person for you.  You have to find someone you enjoy spending your days with.”  Unlike most of us, I realized that my grandpa had followed his own advice with my grandma, who he spent 65 happy years with.  They are an example for us all, and I love them both very much.  I will always cherish their example and the time I have been fortunate enough to spend with them.

I love you Grandpa, I will miss you, and I will try to make you proud in the way I live my life.  I have your example to follow.  Thank you for everything.

Love,

John III

The Uncertainty of Our Times

I was chatting with a friend of mine in the wee hours of the morning the other night.  We were up late writing a research paper and in that caffeinated state in which one remains both tired and awake, where thoughts become clouded and lucid simultaneously – producing some of the best little conversations you can find.  Naturally, we were not discussing anything related to the paper, but an arbitrary assortment of topics, some important, some trivial.  But something he said has stuck with me and it’s been eating away at me since then.  We were talking about books – good books, what makes a good book, our favorite books, books we would recommend etc.  He told me that he had recently read a quote from a certain novelist, whose name escapes me at the moment, that basically said: “In order for a novel to be memorable and successful, it needs to tap into the conscience of a generation – it must understand how that generation defines itself.”

So that got me thinking about my generation.  How would my generation define itself?  Are we even in a position to define ourselves right now?  We are still quite young, most of us in our early to mid-20s.  We have a lot of living left to do.  But I still wonder.  In 100 years, 200 years, 500 years, how will my generation be viewed?

I was born in the late 80’s, 1988 to be exact.  I grew up in the 90s.  Well, at least part of my growing up occurred then – I think it’s still occurring.  By American standards the 90s were pretty uneventful.  The economy was sound, we weren’t involved in any major or prolonged conflicts, and perhaps the biggest scandal of the era was Bill Clinton’s indiscretion with Monica.  I grew up with the Ninja Turtles, Saved by the Bell, Fresh Prince, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, RHCP, Tupac, Biggie, Cypress Hill, DMX, Blink-182, HFS and HFStival, Jurassic Park, Clueless, Harry Potter, All That, Nickelodeon, Britney Spears, TGIF (Boy Meets World and all that jazz), Mrs. Doubtfire, Nintendo, Sega Genesis, Super Nintendo, Nintendo 64, Goldeneye, Super Smash Brothers, Mariokart…  I could go on and on.  As a kid I thought America was the greatest place in the world, that I was so lucky to come from there, that we had the most interesting history of all countries, and that I could be anything in the world I wanted because I was an American.  I’m pretty sure I wanted to be something new basically every other week.  One week it was a paleontologist (because of Jurassic Park, no doubt), the next week it was a comedian, the week after that I wanted to be the President.  My childhood was great.  Yeah, my parents got divorced during that time, that was no fun, but they were fantastic parents regardless, and I grew up a very happy kid in middle-class America.  I remember having the thought, which now seems ridiculous, that my grandparents were lucky to have lived through the Great Depression and WWII.  I saw these events as exciting, a time when America showed its true character, when a person could step up and put their life on the line for their country in what is often viewed as the most “just” war in history.  It was a very naïve perspective, a product of being too young to understand that while dark times often bring out the best in people, there is no reason to hope for them.

Then something happened.  September 11, 2001.  Here we go.  No one needs to be reminded of the specific details of that day.  It was awful – we know that.  It changed everything – we know that.  For me, it was the beginning of the uncertainty that I believe currently pervades my generation.  We grew up in the stable and happy-go-lucky 90s.  Everything was easy breezy during those years.  It’s funny to think about these things now, as I study International Relations in Glasgow.  There’s often reference to the 90s as a period of time in which peace and international cooperation seemed plausible, and achievable.  The Cold War was over, the United States was the only superpower, and it was time to rebuild the world in a democratic style to ensure the liberty of all peoples.  But then, something happened. 9/11.

I was 13 on 9/11.  I was in the 8^th grade.  I remember everything about that day.  I was in Drama Class when we heard the news.  My teacher’s eyes were watering up, and he choked up as he told us “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I don’t think it’s fair for you not to know… planes just crashed into the World Trade Center.”  We really had no idea what that meant at that time, he wouldn’t turn on the news for us, he didn’t want to incite pandemonium.  The school went on lockdown, and we waited anxiously for more word on what happened – as some turned to hysterics, and others began to wonder if we were at war.  The uncertainty began.  Would America go to war?  Why were we attacked?  I thought everyone loved us?  Will I have to go to war?

Obviously, much of these questions were answered as I watched the news with my family later that day.  And in the following days, it became apparent that we would go to war, and a new era would begin – the War on Terror.  I must admit, I was very angry at this time.  I was angry for America.  I was angry for the family I knew that was on the plane that flew into the Pentagon.  I was angry for all of the victims.  I was young, and naïve.  It was also that time in life when one gets a little moody, a little existential if you will.  Puberty ain’t easy.  I wondered what the future would hold for me.  I hoped that I would be able to join the military and fight these terrorists.  I felt that my generation’s great calling had been revealed.

Then time dragged on, and by the time I graduated high school, America was in two wars.  Afghanistan and Iraq.  And the uncertainty continued.  Had we been right to invade these countries?  It was still so unclear.  I had always believed that America stood for the selfless principles of justice and freedom, but these wars challenged my beliefs.  At the beginning of high school, I was sure that I would join the Marines – I was very enthusiastic about it.  By the end of high school, the uncertainty of the War on Terror, our motivations in it, and whether or not we could actually win these wars, had instilled within me great doubts about America and its future.  I didn’t trust George W. Bush, and I certainly didn’t trust Dick Cheney or Donald Rumsfeld.  I was still angry, but for a different reason this time.  I was angry that these men had ruined my vision of America, I was angry that people around the world seemed to hate us even more because of their actions.  I was angry for a lot of reasons.  So I dropped the military idea, and I went to a small liberal arts college.  St. Mary’s College of Maryland – a little slice of heaven.  A place with a reputation for extremely liberal principles, in which pop-collared middle-class kids shed their preppy past, grow dreadlocks, walk to class without shoes, play frisbee golf, expand their minds (in the classroom of course), and enjoy the natural splendor of the Chesapeake region.

As for most people in undergrad, my experience there was formative.  I went in unsure of my place in the world, unsure of what I truly believed, and by the time I graduated I had built a philosophy around the principles of liberalism and cosmopolitanism.  I believed that the purpose of life was to live a good life.  That meant a number of things.  Mainly, to take an active role in promoting equality and the well-being of ones fellow man (and woman), to enjoy life as much as possible (because it’s a great gift), and to not get too worked up about everything in the process.  The last portion of my philosophy has always been the most difficult aspect for me.  This was particularly evident in the period immediately after I graduated.

I did pretty well in undergrad, and I was immature and arrogant enough to think I’d be able to just stroll up to anyone that was hiring and charm my way into a position.  The real world would obviously be a big wake up call for me.  And I spent the next year and a half bartending and substitute teaching, honestly feeling very down throughout that period.  Down about the economy and the job market.  Down about my inability to secure what I felt was a job that would challenge me and allow me to exhibit my skills and knowledge.  In essence, I was very uncertain about things.  I lived in St. Mary’s for a while, bartended, had a grand old time distracting myself down there, and realized I needed to get out before I bought a boat, moved out to some remote corner of St. Mary’s County, grew a beard down to my ankles, and lived the life of a hermit until an early death from a heart attack induced by too many 10 oz. beers and crab cake sandwiches.  So I moved home, home sweet home, with the parents.  23 and living at home with the parents.  That’s the life.  Right?  Wrong.  (No offense parents, you’re awesome, but I know it wasn’t easy for either of us).

An adult man should not live with his parents.  That’s just a fact of life.  Move out.  Do whatever you have to in order to do this.  For your sake, and theirs.  You may love them, and they may love you, but even the closest of relatives and friends do not make for the best roommates.  You have developed certain habits over college that make you a terror for normal people that live real lives and sleep during respectable hours.  Just the way it is.

Basically, that period at home was one of continued uncertainty.  How the hell was I going to get a job?  The economy was in shambles.  I must have sent out 100 applications.  All of them were for entry-level positions.  “We’re sorry, we’re looking for someone with more experience.”  Experience?!  It’s an entry-level position!  Hire me and give me some damn experience!  That was basically my position at the time.  Long-story short, I eventually caught a break with my high school, taught history there for a couple of months, coached soccer, got some real experience, felt a little less uncertain about things, and life moved on.  I eventually decided to teach English abroad, in the tiny but beautiful country of Georgia, which I have rambled on about incessantly due to the fact that I had such an incredible experience there, so I’ll leave that be.

I’m now in grad school.  I’m pursuing an MSc in International Relations.  There are few things that produce more uncertainty than being a grad student, and particularly one that studies politics.  Even more than that, politics and academia combined are like the headache you get in the morning after a long night out involving too many Vodka Red Bulls.  Basically, you got your theory and then you got your policy.  Nobody can agree on theory thus no one can agree on policy.  So basically, everything is uncertain all the damn time, and we’re all running around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to figure out how to fix this broken down machine we call the world.  At the same time you’re trying to figure all this out, you’re trying to figure out what the hell you’re going to do when you graduate.  There is a world outside of the books and articles you read here, and you better not forget that, cause it’ll come at you sooner than you think.

I’ve talked a lot about myself here, I tend to do that – I apologize.  Basically, what I’m trying to get at is a sentiment I feel has been shared among a number of people my age.  I don’t mean to speak for my entire generation; I’m not sitting here claiming to be the voice of my generation – that would be arrogant, delusional, absurd, and frankly false.  I have just had a lot of conversations with folk lately surrounding these issues and it seems that a lot of us are feeling uncertain.  Uncertain about our futures – what do we want to do?  When we figure that out, how will we actually do it?  The economy is in such shambles, all around the world, is it even possible to find a legitimate job right now?  Even more than that, I think we worry about relationships.  We live in this world fueled by social media, in which actual dating rarely occurs, most communication is superficial, and divorce has become a normal and almost uneventful aspect of our culture.  There’s not a whole lot of faith in monogamy – at least that’s the way it seems.  Not to mention, America is still involved in the War on Terror, our role as a superpower seems to be in question, and our entire philosophy has been challenged within the past decade.  These issues invade our subconscious.  It’s easy to get distracted with the monotony of daily life.  But what’s happening around us affects us – it influences our perceptions, and our actions.   Even when we don’t realize it.

Now, this little rant may seem very pessimistic.  I understand that.  The word ‘uncertainty’ has a lot of negative connotations, but I don’t see it that way.  To me it signifies possibility.  The future is always uncertain, we cannot predict or control it – no matter how hard we try.  What we can do is our very best in the present.  Basically, shut-up and enjoy it.  Don’t dwell on the past, don’t dream of the future, concentrate on the present moment and you will find peace.  I didn’t say that, the Buddha did – a very enlightened dude if I do say so myself.  And it’s honestly the perfect advice for all generations.  We all deal with uncertainty.  It’s what we do with that uncertainty that defines us.

My parents were born in the 50s.  The 50s were a lot like the 90s in some ways.  They were a period of peace and prosperity, closely followed by the chaotic and disruptive 60s.  By the time my parents were in their 20s (this would be in the 70s for those of us that aren’t all that good at arithmetic), the world was in a very “uncertain” place.  The 70s saw the end of Vietnam, Watergate, Nixon’s impeachment, the oil embargo and ensuing oil crisis, the break-up of The Beatles (yes people, this was unsettling), economic recession, the Iran hostage crisis, and Disco (which was almost undoubtedly the most shocking, disturbing, and scarring aspect of the 70s).  But they got through it.  They buckled down, like everyone else, did what they were supposed to do, and came out all the better for it.

I’m thinking of a scene from the film “Blood Diamond” right now, in which Jennifer Connelly’s character is watching the news and exclaims something along the lines of, “The world is such a mess,” and Leonardo DiCaprio’s character replies quite cynically “The world is always a mess.”  In a strange way, he’s tapping into something that should be of comfort here.  The problems of our times always seem bigger than the problems of the past – but the world has always moved stubbornly forward.  This is the same for our personal lives – our problems often seem bigger than the problems of others, but all of us are fighting a secret battle.  This is not to say we should ignore our crises, issues, and problems, but rather, we should approach them with the healthy knowledge that nothing is too insurmountable for us to overcome.  Humans are an inventive and adaptive species; we have plenty of tricks up our sleeves.  We should also give ourselves some credit for great progress made in the past couple of years.  We can already be remembered as the generation that elected the first African-American President, the generation that legalized gay marriage (I know this hasn’t been fully realized yet, but we’re making progress), and perhaps the generation that sees an end to the costly and unsuccessful War on Drugs (or at least the ridiculous war on marijuana).  Iraq is over, and Afghanistan is soon to follow.  The legacy of these wars will continue to impact us, but we can begin to rebuild and move forward from what we’ve learned during these conflicts.

I’m not sure why I felt so compelled to write on this topic, but I believe that we all go through times of uncertainty.  We all go through times of crisis, times of doubt, and we all suffer from time to time.  There is nothing wrong with that.  Pain can help breed empathy, understanding, and insight.  That is not to say one should seek out pain, that’s neither here nor there, but that there is no shame admitting one has doubts in life, and there’s certainly no shame in asking questions.  Questions tend to lead to answers.  And everyone likes answers.  This is the end of my rant.  I thank you for your time, and I bid you good day.

The Perpetual Summer

Ever since I was a child, summer has flashed by like a blink of the eye.  Most people would probably agree that it’s always this way.  The things we enjoy the most never seem to last as long as we would like them to.  All good things come to an end, or so they say.  When I was a kid, the first day of summer was like being released from prison.  “Free at last!  Free at last!  Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”  That was the general sentiment.  Yeah, I enjoyed school, but seriously, if you asked the average American child what they preferred, school or summer, and they answered school – I would suggest putting them in therapy immediately.  Yes, I suppose it’s healthy to love school, and it should be encouraged, but summer is the time when a child’s imagination runs wild, when they can explore personal interests, go on adventures, learn independence, drive their parents insane (and rightfully so, you chose to have the damn things), and reflect on what they learned in school (perhaps not consciously).  For as Thoreau once said, “It is only when we forget all our learning that we begin to know.”  I can’t remember what particular movie it was, but a scene comes to mind where it is the last day of school, the bell rings, and its pandemonium – kids run out of the building screaming with joy, they burn their notebooks in a trashcan, and an ecstatic laughter fills the air.  That’s basically what summer felt like to me when I was a kid – Freedom.

When I was in college summer wasn’t quite the same.  In fact, I didn’t really enjoy summer remotely as much as I had as a kid.  I prayed for it to end at times.  Perhaps that’s because college embodied a new type of freedom.  College combined school and the freedom I felt during childhood summers into a beautiful hodgepodge of beer-infused tomfoolery.  My friends and I joked that our school basically was a summer camp.  It was on the water, we could go swimming whenever we wanted, take out kayaks or sailboats for free, and most of us played sports so we went to class and then practice – just like when we were kids.  On top of it all, there were no parents!  It was a jamboree, full of indefatigable amusement.  It was like Neverland and I was a lost boy – which is an appropriate comparison as some of my friends took on the appearance of homeless young orphans (white boys growing dreadlocks and whatnot).  Unadulterated freedom with synthetic consequences – that was college.  When you think about it, it’s not the most ideal way to prepare someone for the real world (but as one of my favorite professors once said, “The world is always real my friend”).  It’s really just 4 years of awesome denial; but also a time where you expand your mind and worldview, work out some of the kinks in your ever-budding adult personality, develop the foundation of your career, learn how to binge drink efficiently/tenaciously, and develop relationships that will last a lifetime.  College is a 4-year summer, and an awesome one at that.

The meaning of summer continues to change for me.  I believe that summer is a perspective, and not really a period of the year.  Yes, in most places summer is the time when school is out, it’s warm outside, you go to the beach, perhaps you have a short fling with the German nanny down the street (hasn’t happened for me yet, in fact, she doesn’t even exist, but my fingers are crossed), and you listen to crunchy jams whilst slurping down a refreshing beverage.  But what about the places where it’s warm all the time?  What marks the difference between summer and the rest of the seasons for people in those regions?  It’s perspective.  It is summer because they feel it is summer, because they think it is summer, because they BELIEVE it is summer.  It’s all about what you tell yourself.  Thus, summer can be perpetual – but you must open your mind to it.  Live your life under the conscious notion that you are free, that the world is full of endless possibility, and that it is your duty to enjoy yourself as often as you can while you are still breathing.  Take chances, be open, be happy.

It’s hard not to reflect on these things at the moment, as my “summer” draws to a traditional close.  But I refuse to adopt a conventional outlook about it.  My summer has been somewhat short-lived, in that it was really just a brief hello to the United States.  8 quick weeks.  It has been an American nap – a nice relaxing period between two fresh and different experiences abroad.  I just returned from an incredible 6-month adventure in Georgia, and now I am off to Scotland.  In some ways it feels very rushed, but simultaneously very natural.  I have the freedom to do what I want – we all do.  “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul” (William Ernest Henley).  Thus, my summer is not really ending.  I am still free after all.

At the same time, it is difficult to say goodbye to America again.  There are many things I wanted to accomplish this summer that were simply just not feasible.  I wanted to drive across the country.  I wanted to visit my friends out west and in Canada.  I wanted to explore this monstrosity of a landmass we call North America.  But alas, it was an unrealistic dream – for the time being.  I will have the freedom to do this at another point in life.  This is not the hardest part, however – putting my dreams and desires temporarily aside.  After all, I feel very privileged, and indeed I am, to go to grad school in Scotland – a beautiful and historic country.  Ultimately, the most difficult part is saying goodbye to the people I love, and again so soon.  My family and friends.  Life moves by very fast, and I think sometimes we forget to let people know how much we really appreciate them – we are all guilty of this at one time or another.  On that note, I must say: I love you all, I will miss you a lot, I will be back in the near future to annoy you once again, and please visit if possible (so many lochs so little time, I need a companion to explore them with).  In the mean time, enjoy the hell out of your lives – live in a perpetual summer.

Why you need to leave the country. Right now. Seriously. Go. What are you still doing here?

Stop whatever you are doing.  Seriously.  It’s not important.  Okay, maybe it’s important, so finish what you’re doing but then stop.  Figure out a way to leave the country.  Whether you find a job, you have the money, or just the free time.  Go.  Leave.  Get out there.  Right now.

I want to start out first by saying that this is in no way an anti-America rant.  I friggin’ love this place to pieces.  I’ve been back for 2 weeks after having been gone for a half-year and you have no idea how much simple pleasure I get from simply eating a ham sandwich or watching Sportscenter.  We have so much and so much of it.  It’s not bad to be an American.  Coincidentally it’s not so good either.  Our economy is on it’s knees, we have a legislature that gets along about as well as Skins and Cowboys fans, a populace that is in some ways more polarized than it was during the Civil War, and the idea of the American Dream is fading like a 70-year-old tramp stamp on a lady who tans too often.  Regardless, this place is still far better off than much of the world, and we live incredibly privileged lives.  America is an incredible place, a place where the hope for a better tomorrow is a perpetual and ingrained sentiment among the people.  People have been coming to this country for centuries because of that very idea.  This is a country with epically diverse geography, more land than one can possibly see in a lifetime, and an equally diverse population.  In short, America f*** yeah.

BUT.  Back to my original point.  Get out.  Seriously.  We all need to.  I think we have all lost sight of what America means.  We don’t really understand it anymore.  What happened?  I was sold an idea when I was old enough to understand what it meant to consider my future.  I was told that if I went to school and worked hard I could be anything – an astronaut, a Disney cartoonist, a chef, a firefighter, even the President.  So I did it.  Yes, I’ll admit I was a pain in the butt as a kid and I made a number of ridiculous mistakes, and continue to make more everyday, but I always worked hard in school.  I knew it was important.  I knew an education was the key to an enriched life.  My father was a teacher, my mother had been a teacher, my sister was destined to be a teacher – education and its importance was reiterated to me throughout my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood.  I am very thankful for that.  But then something happened.  I graduated from college.  And here I was, a naïve college grad, assuming because I did pretty well in school that I could just charm my way into any profession.  What an arrogant moron.

I’ll admit it.  The first 6 months after college sucked.  I wanted to go back.  College was like summer camp, with beer – and better yet, it lasted for 4 years (7 for some, and no they were not on their way to becoming doctors).  After college I bartended, I floated by, I moved to New York City and got a certificate to teach English to adults.  I figured hey, “I’ll get a job immediately with this bachelors degree and fancy certification.”  Nope.  I ended up bartending in a Macaroni Grill and contemplating setting my head on fire pretty much every morning.  Good food – not the best place to work (but a job is better than no job).

Then something happened.  I caught a break.  I got a job at my former high school as a history teacher and soccer coach.  Finally, I got some experience, and I felt like I was doing something meaningful and fulfilling.  But it was temporary.  What was the next step going to be?  I know!  I’ll finally use that certification I wasted 4 weeks of my life on in the bitter winter cold of New York City and leave this country for a spell.  So I looked around for teaching jobs abroad, and then Georgia just fell into my lap (not literally).

Deciding to go to Georgia was the best impulsive decision I’ve ever made in my life.  And talk to my family and close friends, I’ve made a lot of re-damn-diculous impulsive decisions.  A friend chatted me on FB – asked me what my future plans were, told me he was in Georgia and that I should check out the program he was in because it flew its volunteers to Eurasia for free and he was having a great experience.  He did mention that it was a developing country and that the living standards were not the most comfortable.  I heard none of that except for the “free flight” part.  But I must also admit, the idea of living in a developing country, being challenged not only mentally but physically, excited me.  It sounded like a great big adventure, and I was in desperate need of one.  I finished my application that day, got my recommendation letters in, and I was off.

Leaving the country and living abroad was more enriching than I can put into words.  I arrived in Georgia knowing almost nothing about it other than that Joseph Stalin was born there.  I couldn’t even pronounce the name of the capital yet, Tbilisi (yes, they pronounce the “T”).  By the time I left I was having full conversations in Georgian (so were many of the other volunteers).  I got thrown into a small village with a family that spoke no English, had no toilet inside, no hot water the first 3 weeks (yes I smelled delicious that entire time), water that came from a well in the yard, no Internet, and no heating during the dead of winter with a foot of snow on the ground (very close to the mountains).  Needless to say I was somewhat disconcerted about what my overall experience would be like.  Honestly, I had the time of my life.  I was granted an entirely new perspective on the world.  I met people from every corner of the planet.  And I learned that while our cultures make us different, we are all the same at the core – we all just want to live happy and fulfilling lives, whatever our definition of happiness may be.  Not to mention, I learned how to use a Turkish toilet, and as a result my quads are in tiptop shape.  I also learned to be confident in my own ability to seize the day and the world – by the balls, and take from it what I want.  You can do it to.

Am I saying I’m better than you?  No way Jose.  I just had one of the most enriching experiences of my life.  All I’m saying is there’s no reason you can’t do it too, and I would be very happy for you if you did.

I said before that I think we have lost sight of what America “means.”  I’m not saying that we can’t find the answer to that question within America itself.  There is so much to explore in this vast and diverse monstrosity that is the mainland of the United States.  There is so much to discover.  I mean, have you ever met anyone that has been to all 50 states?  If you have, I commend you, and them, for completing and acknowledging that incredible accomplishment.  How can we really understand our country if we don’t get out and explore it?  I think it’s a valid question, and one that has a very simple answer.  We can’t.  We also can’t understand our country if we have nothing to compare it to.  This is why you NEED to leave.  If we want America to improve, to get out of this depressing slump, we need to understand her – in order to make her better.  How can you cure someone if you don’t understand the nature of his or her illness?  You can’t.

So please.  For me, for you, for America, for THE WORLD.  Go out and see it.  It doesn’t matter what you are doing.  You can drop it at any moment and leave – seriously you can, the only thing that’s stopping you is fear.  There are a million opportunities to go abroad.  And why the hell not?  Can’t find a job here?  Go elsewhere.  America will be fine.  We have a habit of dusting our shoulders off and moving forward.  But it’s up to us to pick this country back up; it’s not going to happen by itself.  There’s no reason we have to be in the country in order to do that.  Be an ambassador.  Show the world that we aren’t all reality TV and Internet obsessed morons that can’t point out China on a map.  More than that – enrich your life by experiencing another culture, by seeing and feeling something for the first time, by doing some good in the world.  And then come home.  Even if you don’t go now, go at some point in life, and for an extended period of time.  Don’t just be a tourist.  Go out there and really get into it.  Become a cultural sponge – absorb it all.  You won’t regret it.  Think about it.

‎”We are stronger the wider we open our arms. Our dreams are more powerful when they are shared by others in our time. And we are the only ones who can create a climate for the American Dream to survive another generation, then another and another. ‘If the American dream is to come true and to abide with us,’ Adams wrote in 1931, ‘it will, at bottom, depend on the people themselves.’ True then, and true now.” – Jon Meacham, Time.  June 21, 2012

Coming Home

As my plane descended over Dulles International Airport I was as anxious as a child on their first day of school to rush out of the door, through customs, and into the American sunshine.  I had been gone for 6 months, and I was finally coming home.  I have been back for a little less than two weeks, but in some ways my mind is still rambling, hitchhiking down some deserted Georgian road.  It’s wonderful to be home, I missed my family and friends more than they know, but I can’t say I don’t miss the excitement of being an anonymous traveler in an unfamiliar land.  That’s not to say that I’m bored here, it’s great to be back with the people I love – America is also the land of perpetual stimulation, something that has been somewhat overwhelming since my return.  I got very used to long days in a Georgian village, where at times I would just sit and think for hours simply because there was nothing else to do.  I lived a very simplistic existence during my time there.  Life in America is certainly faster and more organized, like the manicured blades of grass in a suburban yard we strive for perfection and symmetry in our daily lives.

The first thing that struck me about America when I was driving home from the airport was how clean it was.  Every yard was freshly cut and so green it hurt my eyes.  There was barely any trash on the side of the roads, and most noticeably no farm animals blocking traffic.  When I walked into my parent’s home for the first time in nearly 7 months the air-conditioning struck me like a blow from a heavyweight champion (which ironically was taken away 1 hour later after a freak storm that knocked our power out – I joked that I had brought Georgia home with me and apologized to my Dad and Stepmother).  I had entered the uniform box-like shelter we call an American house once again.  It was wonderful to see my family, and to wrestle with my slightly inept but adorable dogs, Junie and Zulie.  Strangely enough, I didn’t stay at my own house my first night back in America, after going to a friend’s house to visit I was subdued by the chains of jet lag and fell asleep on their couch – guess I still haven’t learned how to sit still after all these years.

It’s hard to tell what the strangest thing about being back in America is, maybe I haven’t been back long enough to really reflect upon it.  When you’re traveling you have a certain edge about you, a heightened sense of awareness.  You realize you are in an unfamiliar place, and that you have to watch your back.  That includes small things like holding on to your passport and wallet, but also not wandering into the wrong part of town (or country, as some areas in Georgia were occupied by Russian soldiers).  These are things that you must also be aware of in the States of course, as many of us have often discovered while strolling through places like Baltimore, Maryland – where one block is full of nice Italian restaurants and Irish pubs and then the next resembles a set from the popular HBO show “The Wire” and you’re getting stared down like you’re dinner.  But when you travel your eyes are really open, you take everything in, it’s like your senses are attached to some sort of volume-like knob and someone suddenly turned it all the way up.  I miss that feeling – that travelers high.  I know I will get it back someday, or likely in the near future when I move to Scotland for grad school, but I will admit I am in a bit of withdraw at the moment.

I have to say though, it’s great to be home.  It’s nice to be around familiar faces, my family and close friends, and to hear about what they’ve been up to while I was gone.  It’s also nice to share with them about my experiences over in Georgia.  I have to admit I didn’t think anyone would really care to hear.  Georgia is a small country, one that a lot of people haven’t even heard of.  When I was in Istanbul I met a few Dutch girls and told them I’d been teaching in Georgia, one of them asked me if I was from Atlanta.  I couldn’t help but laugh and said “No, I mean the Georgia neighboring the country we are currently in.”  They still had no idea what I was talking about.  But it’s been a pleasant surprise, wherever I have gone, whether it was on a cruise in Istanbul, the airport bar in Tbilisi, or back on a friends porch in Washington DC, people have been curious about my Eurasian adventures.  It’s nice to talk about what I did and saw over there, it actually helps me put it all into perspective even more.

After coming home I continue to realize how lucky we are as American’s, and how privileged we are to live in a country like this.  Even the simple pleasures of modern amenities, like consistent running water and a Western style toilet are a great joy to have again; and I hope American’s realize how fortunate they are to have them.  America is certainly not perfect, we continue to make mistakes, and we have a number of shameful moments in our storied but short history.   But I was thinking about what makes America so great yesterday, which was probably appropriate, as it was The 4^th of July.  America is great because its citizens realize it isn’t perfect, and we constantly strive to reinvent it and make it better.  We criticize our country when it fails us, when it breaks our hopes and desires for it to be a beacon of hope and freedom in the world.  It is a beautiful thing that we can criticize our government, and we must strive to hold onto that freedom.  It is also very important for us to recognize and accept our flaws, and while we do not have a perfect record of doing this I think we are getting better at it.  I love America, and I’m proud to come from here – I couldn’t help but dwell on that as I watched the fireworks over the water last night in Delaware, our nations first state.  It’s good to be home, it’s good to be among family and friends, and it’s good to be an American.  At the same time I continue to see myself as a citizen of the world, I just won’t forget where I came from.

July 4, one year later (July 4, 2013):

I wrote the above post exactly a year ago, and strangely enough I now find myself recently returned to the United States from another experience abroad, and yet again around the time of the historic birth of my country.  For the past 10 months or so, I have been living and studying in Scotland.  When I came back from Georgia, my transition back into American life was much more dramatic.  Simply being able to shower every day and use a western style toilet felt like a novelty to me for several weeks.  I had lived a drastically different life than the pampered and comfortable existence I had grown up in.  In many ways, I hadn’t realized how privileged I am until that privilege was temporarily removed – it is in the absence of comfort that we learn its true value.  Scotland is obviously a much different experience than Georgia, I can certainly shower every day and western style toilets are plentiful, but that does not necessarily mean the learning experience hasn’t been as rewarding and fulfilling as my time in Georgia was.  Scots and Americans may speak the same language (this is debatable of course, as you might come to argue after your first attempted conversation with a Glaswegian taxi driver), but our cultures are extremely different.  It’s hard not to reflect on your own culture and country when you are placed in an unfamiliar environment, and it forces you to ask yourself some tough questions about where you come from and who you want to be.

In my experiences abroad, I have come to find that there is a very hate/love relationship between the United States and the rest of the world.  Most people would agree that Americans are incredibly positive people, we have a (relatively) positive narrative, and more often than not we believe we are trying to do the right thing (even when we are making a gigantic mess of things).  Our pop culture is ubiquitous, our celebrities are known worldwide, and we continue to entertain the world with a variety of movies and television shows almost as diverse as the amount of choices we have in cereal at the local supermarket.  Literally, no one does cereal like America, it’s still shocking to me to come back and just observe the sheer variety.  Not only do we have Frosted Mini-Wheats, we have Mini Frosted Mini-Wheats, or Strawberry Frosted Mini-Wheats, or Giant Frosted Mini-Wheats, this seems to be the trend for every brand of cereal, the choices are endless.  It’s certainly not like this anywhere else.  No joke, the only place you can find American “breakfast” food like Pop-Tarts and Lucky Charms in Scotland, at least in Glasgow, is in a candy shop in the city center.  Just food for thought.  The American diet is, well, interesting (you could say the same thing for Scots, with haggis, black pudding, and fried Mars bars, which are all delicious btw).  Don’t get me wrong though, I do love me some Lucky Charms.

At the same time, there is widespread animosity towards the United States abroad.  Americans are often viewed as arrogant, self-centered, and ignorant.  And unfortunately, I often tend to agree.  Our government increasingly shows a complete disregard for the sovereignty of other nations, we typically assume that people/nations will bend over backwards and accommodate our every request and express discontent when they don’t, and we continue to exhibit a foreign policy that ignores culture and history.  And these are not empty statements, these are developments that are plain to see if you look at drone strikes, our policy in Syria in terms of aiding the ‘opposition,’ the War in Iraq (we thought we would be liberators and gain a Shi’ite ally, instead we supplied Iran with a new ally), and basically our history of activities around Latin America and the Middle East in general.  Not to mention, in the past decade or so we have illegally detained and tortured prisoners, started two foreign wars that have failed miserably and devastated those two countries, and engaged ourselves in a conflict that has no clear or perceivable end.  Our government also continues to perpetuate the War on Drugs, a futile conflict that has had no perceivable impact other than billions of wasted dollars (not to mention millions of pointless marijuana arrests, someone is arrested for marijuana every 37 seconds, I think police have much better things to do), and one which fuels a conflict in Mexico that has claimed over 50,000 lives.

To keep things in perspective, yes, it is true that it’s very easy to sling rocks at those in the highest positions of power.  The powerful will always be criticized, but that is because they MUST be criticized in order to ensure that this power is not abused.  Simply being the most powerful nation in the world does not give a country the right to do whatever it pleases. But it does give that nation a tremendous responsibility to act with humility and compassion.  Accordingly, I worry that the average citizen in the United States doesn’t know, nor do they care, what the government does in their name.  Why do I say this?  Look at the figures surrounding drone strikes for example.  66% of Americans support the use of drones, yet 44% of Americans admit to knowing little to nothing about the technology or how it is used.

“How can you kill your way out of a complex problem?”  This is a question asked by Joshua Begley, an NYU grad student and the creator of Dronestream.  Dronestream documents and reports every known drone strike committed by the United States via Twitter.  In many ways this simple question offers a profound critique of the Obama administrations kill not capture policy, embodied by the hundreds of lethal drone strikes committed under its watch.  The War on Terror is as much about culture and ideology as it is about the individuals who fight in it.  As John F. Kennedy so aptly put, “A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on.”  Killing individuals may disrupt terrorist networks, but it does not eradicate the root of the problem.  It is a policy that has the potential to perpetuate, instead of end, the War on Terror.

These are things that I would challenge Americans to think more deeply about.  The recent NSA scandal for example:  Reactions to this entire scandal have been so black and white.  Yes, it is reasonable for people in a democratic and liberal society to assume they are not being monitored unjustifiably. Yes, we’ve seen how this sort of trend within in a state can lead to major violations of individual freedoms – in the USSR, in East Germany with the Stasi. It’s not something you want to move towards, there’s no argument there. But Americans, in my opinion, need to grade their responses to these sort of developments, it’s not all black and white. Many people have blamed Obama for this entirely. Well, look at it from the political angle: The NSA ask him to approve this program, he doesn’t, there’s an attack like Boston, and they leak that he didn’t approve the program and consequently he looks responsible for a terrorist attack. Yes, this is hypothetical, but still valid. Politics is a dirty game and the NSA have been running programs like this for decades (it’s been around since 1952, and its existence wasn’t even revealed until the 70s), they are obsessed with gaining intelligence by any means necessary, so this is not necessarily entirely Obamas fault.

Secondly, it is troublesome to me that Americans are mostly indignant when their own rights appear to be violated for the sake of security, but the majority of the time we are perfectly satisfied when the rights of others are violated on the same basis. During the Bush administration, polls showed that many Americans approved of the use of Enhanced Interrogation Techniques (torture) against terrorists. As I’ve already mentioned, polls also show that most Americans approve of the use of drones. We also approved of the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq overwhelmingly at their onset, people like to forget that – America was hungry for revenge, and we are complicit in what happened in these places, and to make up for it we must never forget what happens when our passions overcome reason in our actions. Thus, we are perfectly okay with violating the rights of millions of people around the world, which is not only morally abhorrent, it does significant damage to our reputation and standing with millions of people, and it alienates and drives people towards extremism, perpetuating this already discombobulated War on Terror that we are engaged in (which may never ever end). And these are violent palpable actions, that impact these people every single day – we would never have even known about this NSA program had it not been leaked (which is part of the reason it’s so disconcerting, but at the same time what I’m trying to say is did it really impact your every day life?). The American judicial system is FAR from perfect, there are some sickening examples of this even in the present day (Bradley Manning for example, and now Edward Snowden), but we rarely throw people into jail for absurd reasons (other than marijuana in my opinion), yes it does happen, but our record in this regard is far better than in places like Thailand, where you tweet something negative about the King and you’re on trial for it a few months later. All I’m saying is yes, it’s not okay, but at the same time, don’t fall too far on one side of the debate or the other, it’s a complex world, and there are shades of grey.

That being said, I love America, but I will continue to be critical of it.  I truly believe America has more potential than any nation or empire that has ever existed to promote peace around the world.  However, you can’t promote peace through war, that is simply oxymoronic. Hence, potential is the keyword in the above statement.  Is the world dangerous?  Yes, it can be.  Are there constant threats to our security and the security of others?  Yes… and no.  Should we be the world police?  In my opinion, no, because that means our interests will be placed above the interests of others, and in a culturally relative world our interests are not always in the best interests of others.  That’s a whole lot of ‘interests,’ and that’s the point, the world is complex and confusing, and a simple showing of might and power cannot fix that.  Not to mention, when America involves itself in the business of other nations, a new enemy will always be made, someone will always get the sore end of the deal.  From a practical standpoint, someone might say, “So what?  If our interests are served, and we get to help someone out in the process, why shouldn’t we?”  Because you will create long-term problems that eventually destabilize our interests, not to mention serve to the detriment of the people we attempted to help in the first place (look at the Taliban in Afghanistan as a prime example). Like it or not, our values are not right for everyone.

President Obama is not perfect, and I’m not going to claim that here, but I do have to commend him for being willing to discuss America’s flaws, and for a willingness to admit we have made numerous mistakes in the past.  Some would accuse him of being an apologist (Republicans like Romney).  I find that ironic, given Republicans claim their position on politics comes from a firmly cemented distrust of government – an ancient and honorable American ideal.  Simply put, I believe a healthy critique of America’s past is in many ways the ultimate exemplification of cynicism towards the government.  How will America ever improve if we cannot analyze and critique our actions?  We are not perfect and we should never claim to be.  American citizens that are critical of America are often accused by other Americans of being unpatriotic, I disagree wholeheartedly.  A person who is willing to criticize their nation and government will always be more patriotic in my eyes, because it means they want it to improve, they desire a better life for future generations, and they are not afraid to voice their opinions.

America is a fantastic idea, a wonderful experiment, and a beautiful dream.  In my opinion, that dream has not been fully realized.  In my opinion, that dream sometimes becomes a nightmare.  But that does not mean we should give up on that dream.  Nothing worth fighting for comes easily.  But in this day and age, the greatest danger Americans face is apathy.  A lack of interest in our nations politics and future, a belief that we are in the right all the time, and a belief that what we believe is what’s best for the world all the time – are the greatest dangers we face.  Obama recently stated in a counterterrorism speech (May 23, 2013) that homegrown extremism is the greatest threat we face in terms of security.  I believe homegrown extremism can also come in the form of a blind acceptance of the status quo.  To me, that is an extreme display of apathy, and an extreme display of irresponsibility.  We have been born into lives of extreme privilege in this country, and with that comes an extreme responsibility.  We have a responsibility to ask questions, to take action, and to be more humble.  We should not expect out of the world that which we would not expect out of ourselves.  We cannot hold nations to standards that we do not live up to on our own.

America has come a long way from its humble beginnings.  My family came here in 1750.  This was a time when life in the colonies was so dangerous and uncertain the king of England was literally giving land away for free to anyone who paid for their own passage across the Atlantic.  This was known as the headrights system – pay your passage, and receive 50 acres of land.  The first man in my family to come here was named John Haltiwanger, a poor farmer from Austria.  He fought in the American Revolution.  He distinguished himself when he was asked to carry dispatches through enemy territory.  He came across a British patrol, and was forced to hide in a haystack.  The British were aware he might be in the area, so they attempted to flush him out by thrusting their bayonets into the hay.  He was stabbed and wounded, but he didn’t make a noise, he was able to escape and successfully delivered those dispatches.  This is recorded in the Library of Congress.  I’m proud of that fact, and I’m proud that the Haltiwanger’s still own the land that was given to us before the United States even truly existed.  I’m proud to be American, I’m proud that I was born and raised in the capital, and I will never be ashamed to be an American, regardless of my concerns with some of our actions throughout history and our current direction – I will always be proud to be an American.

In my opinion, America is and was always meant to be a nation for all peoples.  It has not always worked this way, and we struggle with this ideal even now, as an immigration reform bill moves through the House and as the fight for marriage equality rages on.  But in my opinion, we have slowly progressed forward to embody and realize this ideal.  This has not been a linear progress, sometimes we take steps backwards – but there has been progress.  When my parents were born, black and white people could not legally get married in many states.  In many places non-whites could not even use the same restrooms or eat at the same restaurants as whites.  In many cases, non-whites were violently oppressed in order to perpetuate the racist and apartheid-like status quo.  The 13th Amendment had made slavery illegal, but Jim Crow still made life a living hell for many African Americans living in the South.  Many Americans, including whites, would not stand for this, which led to the Civil Rights Movement – a monumental and peaceful push for political change.  Eventually, the government could no longer ignore the cries of its people, leading President John F. Kennedy to draft the Civil Rights Act, which was later signed by Lyndon B. Johnson.  The signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was a historic step in the right direction for Americans, it didn’t change things overnight, but it was a promise by the government to defend the rights of all races.  And by the time I was legally old enough to vote in a presidential election, I voted for a black man named Barack Obama.  Thus, to say we have not made progress would be a denial of an extremely apparent truth.  Anything is possible in this country, as long as we continue to play an active role in its politics.  This includes our foreign policy, we need to be concerned with our governments actions in matters that have an impact beyond our own immediate lives.  When it comes down to it, we live in a complex and interdependent world, it is in the interest of future generations for our world to move towards more compassionate and cooperative means of interaction.  For the most powerful nation in the world, that means a more active engagement from its own populace in terms of concern over the actions taken in their name around the world.  That being said, Happy Birthday America!  Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and everything you continue to do.  I know I’m harsh sometimes, but that’s only because I believe in you and I want you to be better.

Sometimes I feel like where you come from, your nation, is both your parent and your child.  When you are a kid, you look up and revere your parents beyond belief.  They are infallible superheroes.  As you grow older, you realize they are human beings just like you, with faults and flaws, capable of great successes and failures.  As you grow even older, you begin to take care of your parents, as responsibility is something that is passed on to every new generation.  I believe it is the same with ones country.  It is a reciprocal relationship, a parent and child relationship, a familial relationship.  That being said, I hope we start to see the whole world as our family, taking care of its citizens as we would our own.  This is how we can build a better tomorrow, and this is what I believe the Founding Fathers meant when they fought to establish a nation for all peoples.  America is not an exclusive idea, it is not meant to belong to a privileged few, but to everyone.  To many, this may sound like empty rhetoric.  But as long as a few men and women fight to uphold and promote this ideal, as a small band of colonists did 237 years ago, I will continue to have faith in the country I come from.  Happy 4th of July.  Happy Birthday America.

E PLURIBUS UNUM

Out of many, one.

One last reminder why America is a nation for everyone:

The ‎American story has long been written by immigrants.On July 4, 1776…”Fifty-six founders put their names on a piece of paper. Up until that moment, none of them were American. Even those who had spent their entire lives in one of the thirteen colonies had grown up in another country.” —Cecilia Muñoz, White House Domestic Policy Council

I Fell in Love With a Country

I have finally begun to realize how much I will miss Georgia once I leave in 2 short weeks.  This place has affected me more than I could have ever anticipated.  It has truly penetrated my heart and soul, and I love this place like a second home.  When people in Georgia ask me where I am from I say the village Rokhi, instinctively.  Of course I am not from there originally, I am a DC kid, but I feel such a deep connection with that place and its people it truly is my home now.  What will I do with myself when I get back?  What will my daily routine be like?  In Georgia, I typically wake up and do what all people do in the first 5 minutes of their day – I relieve my bladder.  But in the village, this is a little different.  It means I have to walk outside to a small wooden and stone shack known as a Turkish toilet.  I do this in a robotic fashion.  I roll out of bed, hop over the fence on my porch that blocks my one-year-old host brother Mirian from stumbling down the stairs, and I dodge chickens, ducks, turkeys, and a cow to get to my bathroom.  I wonder if this robotic tendency will continue in America?  I imagine myself wandering out into my parent’s backyard and searching anxiously for an outhouse, only to realize I have arrived back in America, and I can now use an indoor toilet.

When I first got to Georgia I was a little boy in a brand new exciting world.  I arrived in Tbilisi in the cold bitter month of January, and had a week of orientation in a reasonably nice hotel equipped with heating, Wi-Fi, showers (you would think this is standard, but come to Georgia and you’ll see this is not always so), and free meals.  This was in no shape or form a representation of what I would be experiencing in Georgia.  After 7 long days of orientation I was shipped off to a village.  I remember when my host father came to pick me up at the hotel it was like they were just giving away free foreigners.  “I got 6 Canadians here… Who wants one?  No, you want an American?  Okay, no problem!”  They called your name, you shook hands with your new family member(s), and they shoved you out the door.  My host Dad speaks absolutely no English, and at that point asking me to speak Georgian would’ve been like asking George W. Bush to point out Baghdad on a map or tie his shoes without assistance.  Needless to say I was a bit terrified.  I had not ridden a marshutka at that point, and I had not been outside of Tbilisi.  When I arrived in the village, I have to admit, I was a bit panicked.  I spoke no Georgian, there were alcoholic toothless men walking around mumbling to themselves and attempting to greet me with kisses on the cheek, there was no heat in my house in the dead of winter, no indoor toilet, the hot water heater was broken, and I had no internet or contact with the outside world.  Pardon my French, but the first thought that came into my head that first full day was, “F***ing hell, what have I gotten myself into?!”

My God how far I have come since that first week in the village. This experience has made me so confident in my ability to travel, and it has made me so faithful in people.  It has inspired in me an unquenchable thirst for adventure and I know now that I have to see the entire world and meet as many people as possible, whatever the cost.  I have truly realized that the world is my community as a result of my time in Georgia.  It is more lucid now than ever.  And that is an irreplaceable gift that this country has given to me.

I have fallen deeply in love with Georgia.  Everything about this country is just so epic.  The landscape, the people, the music, the wine (and chacha, can’t forget that, but you often forget when you drink it), the beautiful women, the alcoholism, the transportation, the lack of infrastructure, the villages, the traditions, the language… I could go on and on.  I have had so many rich and insane experiences I could tell stories for days.  I will cherish these memories my entire life and I will retell the stories with great joy time and time again.  I am so grateful to be alive and to have had this opportunity.

The other day two of my friends came to stay at my house for a bit of a last hurrah.  We had a small supra with my host father and host uncle, and I was the tamada.  So much of it was so routine, but at the same time, I started to realize how Georgian I had become.  I knew all of the traditional toasts, and I was having a full conversation in Georgian with my host uncle and host father.  I started to realize that these traditions, this language, and moments like that, would soon be behind me.  And I have to admit, it was very sad to come to this realization.  I am a nostalgic guy, which is probably why I love history so much, and man will I feel it hard when I leave this country.

So thank you Georgia, thank you for this crazy ride.  I am almost certain I will cry when I say goodbye to my host family and my adorable host siblings, and I thank them too for bringing me into their home and treating me like a member of their family.  My host siblings call me chemi dzma (my brother), and I will always regard them as family too.  Gaumarjos Bubuteishvilis!  (Cheers to the Bubteishvilis, the surname of my family).  I also thank my village and my school, and the people of Georgia for being such gracious hosts.  If you want to experience true hospitality come to the Caucasus.  I hope this is not a goodbye Georgia, but only a “see you later.”  I couldn’t image a life without at least one more supra in Saqartvelo.