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(Editorial
from a Romanian newspaper)
Why
are Americans so united? They don't resemble one another even if
you paint them! They speak all the languages of the world and
form an
astonishing mixture of civilizations. Some of them are nearly
extinct,
others are incompatible with one another, and in matters of
religious
beliefs, not even God can count how many they are.
Still, the American tragedy turned three hundred million people
into a hand put on the heart. Nobody rushed to accuse the
White House, the army, the secret services that they are only a
bunch of losers. Nobody rushed to empty their bank accounts.
Nobody rushed on the streets nearby to gape about. The
Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a helping
hand.
After the
first moments of panic, they raised the flag on the smoking
ruins, putting on T-shirts, caps and ties in the colors of the
national flag. They placed flags on buildings and cars as
if in every place and on every car a minister or the president
was passing. On every occasion they started singing their
traditional song: "God Bless America!".
Silent as a rock, I watched the charity concert broadcast on
Saturday
once, twice, three times, on different TV channels. There were
Clint
Eastwood, Willie Nelson, Robert de Niro, Julia Roberts, Cassius
Clay, Jack Nicholson, Bruce Springsteen, Silvester Stalone,
James Wood, and many others whom no film or producers could ever
bring together. The American's solidarity spirit turned them
into a choir. Actually, choir is not the word. What you could
hear was the heavy artillery of the American soul. What neither
George W. Bush, nor Bill Clinton, nor Colin Powell could say
without facing the risk mumbling over words and sounds, was
being heard in a great and unmistakable way in this charity
concert.
I don't know how it happened that all this obsessive singing of
America didn't sound croaky, nationalist, or ostentatious! It
made you green with envy because you weren't able to sing for
your country without running the risk of being considered
chauvinist, ridiculous, or suspected of who- knows-what mean
interests.
I watched the live broadcast and the rerun of its rerun for
hours listening to the story of the guy who went down one
hundred floors with a
woman in a wheelchair without knowing who she was, or of the
Californian hockey player, who fought with the terrorists and
prevented the plane from hitting a target that would have killed
other hundreds or thousands of people. How on earth were they
able to bow before a fellow human?
Imperceptibly, with every word and musical note, the memory of
some turned into a modern myth of tragic heroes. And with every
phone call, millions and millions of dollars were put in a
collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family, but a
spirit which nothing can buy.
What on earth can unite the Americans in such a way? Their land?
Their galloping history? Their economic power? Money? I tried
for hours to find an answer, humming songs and murmuring phrases
which risk of sounding like commonplaces. I thought things over,
but I reached only one
conclusion.
Only
freedom can work such miracles!
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