Sail250

This year is America’s 250th birthday. We find ourselves as a nation at an interesting point as this anniversary looms ever closer. I am just barely old enough to remember the days in which there was an American flag flown on all the porches of the houses in my Southeastern Virginia neighborhood, but young enough to have never experienced the politics of old as an adult. My years contributing to the civic processes of our country have been inundated with insults, partisan dogmatism, and ideological isolationism. I can’t help but feel that the current American political dialectic has strayed radically from the ideals that the nation was founded on, which forces the question: What, if anything, is the throughline from the America that was theorized 250 years ago to the one that I inhabit today?

When I left my apartment to go for a run last week, I didn’t expect to give much consideration to this question. However, as I set out on the streets, I was greeted by the sails of dozens of international tall ships and sailing vessels. The 50th anniversary of Norfolk, Virginia’s Harborfest happened to align with the 250th birthday of our country, culminating in a large multicultural celebration called Sail250, right here in our local harbor. The event was in its dying embers on the Sunday evening that I had chosen to run, but as someone who grew up with the tales and dreams of classical piracy, I was unable to focus on any sort of exercise. Before I knew it, my workout had turned into a reflective stroll along the river’s edge, bobbing and weaving amongst the crowds, awestruck by the ships in port.

I found myself, as I explored, listening to the conversations of the comers and goers. Overhearing the Swedish mate explain the history of his ship to two enthused parents and their less-than-enthusiastic baby in his stroller. I watched as the Ecuadorian galleon left port, blaring their native songs while the crew stood at arms along both port and starboard sides and amongst the rigging on all three masts. I found myself daydreaming about the voyage of the relatively small Indian ship on its way to this seemingly random port on America’s eastern shores for a peacetime meeting of the world’s classic vessels. I was in awe of this demonstration of globalism and multiculturalism taking place right outside my front door.

Over the last few years, I’ve had many conversations about the role of America in the larger global sphere with people coming from a multitude of backgrounds. Every time, at the core of these conversations were those at the top, those who occupy the governmental seats and media screens day in and day out. Those who, allegedly, represent the American people. However, something in the waters that night, present in this global meeting of cultures just across the river from the neighborhood I grew up in—the same neighborhood where I saw those American flags and learned the ideals held at the heart of America’s founding 250 years ago—something in the air on this beautiful June summer evening caused me to look at those conversations from a new angle.

Global laughingstock or global shepherd has never been what the American ideals are about. Our country was founded on the back of rejecting the will of a global superpower. America, at its best, is a country of community, local and foreign. It’s opening our harbors to ships of foreign lands under the banner of camaraderie and friendship. It’s recognizing the similarities you have with others, both near and far, and lifting them up to make the best for themselves while you do the same for yourself. I suppose what connects us, as Americans today, to the ideals solidified 250 years ago is not the things that happen in the establishments they built, but instead the establishments they hailed from. It’s the hope that communities will defend one another on the grounds of what they have in common, not stir infighting based on their few differences. It’s taking your baby, in a stroller on a walk along the docks, talking to the Swedish mate, and recognizing the humanity you all share, the things that you have in common. America is the hope that we will stand against what is unjust, lift one another up, defend what is right, and embrace those who act in such a way toward us, whether they be down the street or across the world.

I suppose that before my run I was looking in the wrong places for the connective tissue between old and new. It was never going to be found in the hands of those whose livelihood is made by pretending to represent American ideals. It’s in those down the street, across the tracks, and around the world who live them every day, with hope for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. When viewed in such a way the answer to America’s role in the global order returns to where it belongs, not in our institutions but in the community and character of the people who carry these ideals forward.