(Host) With July 4th upon us, commentator Stephanie Greene, who lives on
a farm in Windham County with her family, considers one version of the
American Dream.
(Greene) Some years ago, I was among a group of
parents who took a little school of 90 students, grades k-3, in Spencer,
Mass, to the Worcester Art Museum. Admission was free for the children,
but to raise money for the buses, we had an art fair. And in
preparation for our visit, we brought in pictures of some of the
artworks the children would see at the museum and talked about the
artists.
The day came. As a group of first graders assembled in
the Impressionist gallery, a little girl, who lived in a trailer,
qualified for free lunch and wore a ragtag dress, pointed at a canvas
across the room and said loudly, "THAT is a Monet." And she was right.
I
loved that moment not only because the docent nearly fell over in
shock, but because that little girl was laying claim to great culture,
despite her circumstances. She declared the picture "wicked pretty" and
listened closely to what the docent told the group about the paintings.
No
one had told this child that loving art was elitist. Or that only snobs
cared about big ideas or beauty, or that reading great books was a
waste of time because it won’t make you money. She was embracing the
very best of the American Dream, the part that says we all have a right
to reach beyond where we are, not just materially, but educationally,
and culturally – to try and be better, to educate ourselves, to grow, to
try new things, to dare.
Somehow the definition of the American
Dream has been dumbed down to being about nothing more than money. If
you have enough money to buy a house, you’ve made it. If you have more
money than your parents, you’ve arrived. Only when you have a lot of
money, can you enjoy "the good things", and consume pricey stuff.
Culture has become a mere accessory, like a designer purse.
But
the trouble with the notion that only the rich should have access to the
greatest accomplishments of culture is that it’s so un-American.
Because there are places on the planet where you really cannot aspire to
anything much beyond the circumstances of your birth, where there is
little hope for an education, or betterment of any kind. People flee
those places for America , or try, because here it’s different.
Self-improvement
is more American than apple pie (which is German, by the way). Our
history is rife with striving. Check out the benevolent societies formed
by new immigrants that sponsored concerts, plays and lectures in
Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Look at The Lowell Offering, a literary
magazine produced by the female textile workers in Lowell,
Massachusetts. The G.I. Bill, night school and now even online courses
from Harvard and Stanford Universities are part of that tradition.
I often think of that little girl who knew a Monet when she saw one. My dream for her is that she never, ever stops striving.