In many countries, people trace their heritage back to kings and queens or other aristocrats. Some of that idea has even bled over to the United States. People tracing their ancestry frequently look for that long lost connection to Duke This and Earl Watchamacallit.
In the United States, the most commom attempts to connect with known notables are relationships with historical figures from the past. Some even join organizations to keep those ideas alive like the Daughters of the Revolution or the Mayflower society.
However, blue blood means something else in the United States among the common folks.
When I hear of such connections, what frequently comes to mind is how these people actually arrived in this country. It was not some grand passage of aristocrats landing to a red carpet reception on Plymouth Rock. It was a group of people from all walks and stations of life, cramped together on a small, wet, stinking boat. There was no caviar and champagne, just salted pork, salted fish, pickled eggs and hard biscuits full of bugs. If they were lucky, some of the fowl and cattle survived long enough to supply fresh milk, an egg or two and an occasional chewy, undercooked piece of mutton or beef. All washed down with a yummy mixture of half water and rum because drinking the water would be deadly.
Did I mention that it smelled? Nobody was washing frequently on that ship and they often spent days in rough seas, huddled under stinking, wet, woolen cloaks throwing their guts up over the rail.
A lovely thought when imagining those first "blue bloods" of America arriving.
But, the reason that many still revere those first settlers isn't because they were any kind of royalty. It is because, indeed, they did come over on a wet, cramped, stinking boat, thousands of miles from home and help, in a hostile country with hostile natives, with little or no food stores and certainly no Bloombergs or Wal-mart to get a set of new clothes and shoes. They had to overcome every hardship; man made or act of God.
That's what passes for "royalty": people who overcame severe diversity and flourished. That type of heritage is shared among many people. Whether their ancestors came over on a boat, searching for freedom and a new start, or whether they were African slaves, traveling in a similar cramped, wet and stinking boat, but with chains on their ankles; the abject opposite of free men. They all had one thing in common: they had to struggle for everything they got. Some more than others.
Most readers are probably like this writer: a family tree full of rogues, royalty and everything in between. Including some of those "hostile natives". My own great-great-great grandmother was a Cherokee on the Trail of Tears who was lucky enough to marry a farmer at one of the stops along the way. And their son's son married an immigrant Irish woman from the second great mass Irish immigration. They had a son and eventually traveled across the United States in a covered wagon.
Over a century later, here I am.
So, why do Americans revere these hard scrabble ancestors, even those under the worst of circumstances?
Because they fought for everything they had and they survived. As long as we remember that, as long as we keep it close, we won't stray far from what keeps America great.
So, while we celebrate the founding of our nation, remember how we got here and all those in the long line of survivors that made it possible.
In the United States, the most commom attempts to connect with known notables are relationships with historical figures from the past. Some even join organizations to keep those ideas alive like the Daughters of the Revolution or the Mayflower society.
However, blue blood means something else in the United States among the common folks.
When I hear of such connections, what frequently comes to mind is how these people actually arrived in this country. It was not some grand passage of aristocrats landing to a red carpet reception on Plymouth Rock. It was a group of people from all walks and stations of life, cramped together on a small, wet, stinking boat. There was no caviar and champagne, just salted pork, salted fish, pickled eggs and hard biscuits full of bugs. If they were lucky, some of the fowl and cattle survived long enough to supply fresh milk, an egg or two and an occasional chewy, undercooked piece of mutton or beef. All washed down with a yummy mixture of half water and rum because drinking the water would be deadly.
Did I mention that it smelled? Nobody was washing frequently on that ship and they often spent days in rough seas, huddled under stinking, wet, woolen cloaks throwing their guts up over the rail.
A lovely thought when imagining those first "blue bloods" of America arriving.
But, the reason that many still revere those first settlers isn't because they were any kind of royalty. It is because, indeed, they did come over on a wet, cramped, stinking boat, thousands of miles from home and help, in a hostile country with hostile natives, with little or no food stores and certainly no Bloombergs or Wal-mart to get a set of new clothes and shoes. They had to overcome every hardship; man made or act of God.
That's what passes for "royalty": people who overcame severe diversity and flourished. That type of heritage is shared among many people. Whether their ancestors came over on a boat, searching for freedom and a new start, or whether they were African slaves, traveling in a similar cramped, wet and stinking boat, but with chains on their ankles; the abject opposite of free men. They all had one thing in common: they had to struggle for everything they got. Some more than others.
Most readers are probably like this writer: a family tree full of rogues, royalty and everything in between. Including some of those "hostile natives". My own great-great-great grandmother was a Cherokee on the Trail of Tears who was lucky enough to marry a farmer at one of the stops along the way. And their son's son married an immigrant Irish woman from the second great mass Irish immigration. They had a son and eventually traveled across the United States in a covered wagon.
Over a century later, here I am.
So, why do Americans revere these hard scrabble ancestors, even those under the worst of circumstances?
Because they fought for everything they had and they survived. As long as we remember that, as long as we keep it close, we won't stray far from what keeps America great.
So, while we celebrate the founding of our nation, remember how we got here and all those in the long line of survivors that made it possible.
