Don't Deny the Pain

Do Not Deny The Pain The American Dream. Can we really achieve this ancient thought, a goal as old as America itself? Do we even know what we strive for, every moment of every waking day? Can we define it? Or are we too often derailed, by ourselves, others, and even those who we trust? Does this change for the regret-filled senior playing golf in Fort Lauderdale? How about the young girl strolling with shifty eyes in yet another crime ridden neighborhood in the city of Detroit? Are those dreams the same as the homeless, pregnant 16 year old who wanders the streets of Boston only because her parents didn’t believe that she was raped by a man who “loved” her. Does she still have the dream? Or has the next 18 years of her life been closed off by a child she didn’t choose to have? The American Dream An individualized seam that holds together our society. Protecting, guarding and enabling our sublime hope to burst out and show the world what we are capable of. To show the world that regardless of what happens whether it be another tragic school shooting, the crippling memories of 9/11, our mixed emotions and the pain we see in the eyes of Vietnam war veterans, the memorials of those who died in Pearl Harbor, the graves of Americans scattered across our bandaged lands, that we will win, and we will forever, strive for the thing we call an the American Dream. In the 1700’s the American Dream was independence. In the 2000’s we want to be free of terrorism. As a citizen of this country I believe that WE can reach our American Dream. The WE referring to those of us who have been blessed, fortunate, maybe even lucky, that we inherited bliss and tolerance, aiding teachings, parents who care, siblings who love, and countless numbers of opportunities to further educate and increase our wealth. But what about our Bostonian teen mom, and our targeted little girl hailing from Detroit? Do they have what it takes to climb out of their hand-me-down hole, to hit a grand slam when down by three in the bottom of the ninth? What do WE do? Are we supposed to donate money? Volunteer at a local soup kitchen? Do we choose to see the pain, but do nothing about it? Do we block out their pain? Should we even go as far as welcoming them into our home? You may say yes. It sounds so simple. Use those couple extra dollars and buy them some diapers and a good meal. But if they knock on your door tomorrow, with their humbling sadness and the gut-wrenching pain that is visible through their tear filled eyes, would you actually let them in? Or would you deny the pain?