In Trump’s America, patriotism in 47 seconds
I wouldn’t describe myself as a flag-waving American or, normally, being that vocally patriotic. I play my patriotism, like my religious beliefs, close to the vest.
Yet there I was last Thursday, on the old green sofa, half-whispering, half-lunging, half-screaming at the TV — “go … go… go” — as American Caeleb Dressel pressed toward the wall to win the men’s 100-meter freestyle at the world swimming championships in Budapest, Hungary. It was the most electrifying thing I’ve seen in a while, in any sport. Dressel, just 20 years old, touched home at 47.17, an American record.
I actually had chill bumps during those last 50 meters. I was all out pulling for Dressel … because he was an American.
On Friday, I was still perplexed by my reaction. After all, I usually get queasy about grand displays of patriotism, or this notion of “American exceptionalism,” or even “Americanism.”
Yes, my father served in World War II, my nephew, a Marine, in the Persian Gulf War. Yet I don’t like it when they sing God Bless
America at baseball games and I feel pressured to join in, especially when Take Me Out to the Ball
Game is a much better song. This concept known as nationalism is often on unapologetic display at the Olympics, or at international events such as the world swimming championships, or even the World Cup. It’s good in small doses, like a little port before bedtime, but when it’s gulped like Gatorade or Red Bull, it becomes problematic.
And that is before we even get into the medal stand ceremony and the playing of the national anthems. One of the enduring memories of my childhood is seeing Olympic sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos giving the “black power” salute on the medal stand at Mexico City in 1968. I remember my father being visibly upset, but I didn’t quite understand.
Such occasions can be loaded with the baggage of patriotic emotion, political turmoil and social injustice. I think my reaction to Dressel’s stunning triumph had something to do with the chaos that has overcome America of late. President Trump’s worldview and his policies have scrambled my sense of patriotism, or stolen it, and now I am seeking a way to reclaim it.
As Dressel was gliding through that water, he was just an American kid showing supreme effort — seeing a gazillion hours of practice and work in and outside the pool pay off in a huge splash of victory. He allowed me, a sometimes too cynical, middle-age man lounging on a sofa in New Jersey, to go along for the ride.
My eyes didn’t well with tears, but my chest burst with pride. It dawned on me that I hadn’t felt so good about my country, or its future, in a long time. I guess what I mean is that for 47 seconds and change, all the “stuff ” we’ve lived through in the past six months, all the division and hateful rhetoric, was driven away and a small bit of America, what it means to be American, rose up inside me till it reached my throat and threatened to drown me. Bruce Lowry is an editorial writer at The (North Jersey) Record, where this column first appeared.