Saturday, April 28, 2012


It’s just as it should be.
I am in the United States of America.
      I am a fifth generation German/Irish descendant, at least by the standards of my father’s male bloodline, but what may apply when counting in my mother’s line, and all of the wives and mothers of each generation and where they came from, and for how long they have been in the United States, or from where they came, is only something that can be guessed. As far as I know I am, for the most part German. My maiden name means pastry maker in Germany. My mother’s maiden name is very Irish, as was her mother’s.
    My kids are part of me. Does this mean that they can then claim this same status as their own? Does this qualify them to claim the important sixth generation American of the United States? It may come in handy for them one day, as this subject of immigration when and how and who is now an act of martyrdom of our own importance – the death and suffering of who we are inside for our belief of America.
    Does bloodline matter? The answer is yes. Those who claim that this is theirs, do so because of their bloodline, therefore giving my children the right to claim America through my bloodline, because the blood running through my veins is the same blood of the people that helped to build America. I have some of the same genes.
     I have inherited these genes from my bloodline. That gives me too the rights to inherit this country through my bloodline. To take a spot of that blood and to trace it into Germany would not necessarily offer me a right to Germany though, even though my bloodline and my genes may be found there. I was born on American soil. I have a birth certificate. I have photos of my parents holding me when I was a baby in an American lifestyle. I went to school from Kindergarten to graduation day at the same high school that I watched my daughter graduate from. We sang the American Anthem and through out the years, I said the Pledge of Allegiance every year, clear back to when my hand was a little bigger than the doll’s that I played with, as I held it across my chest, saying words that I did not understand. Over the years I was taught the many patriotic loyalties, the reasons that I was to feel them, along with the blood that spilled as the genes and bloodlines of others ended so that mine could survive.
    The appreciation of others for the survival of my bloodline is what patriotism of living in the United States may be stated as then, put simply.
    It is just as it should be, then that my children and myself are in the United States, living protected, receiving an American education and the installation of the knowledge of patriotism is being given to my children, the sixth generation immigrants from Germany... that appreciation of others so that they simply can live in the United States, as a United States Citizen.
   It is just as it should be that my husband is not here because he is from Mexico. There is no way that he would be able to understand that appreciation of others that gave up their lives so that America could be a place for someone like him to live in the United States.
    How could he ever live in the United States like I do, without knowing his bloodline was formerly already here for five generations previously? How could he ever be confident in claiming that he would have the right to be breathing and eating from this place? How dare he not take his own bloodline into account and stay faithful to his own past, because that is important!
   What is important is where your bloodline is from, that is how it works here. We are petty. We want proof. We want to play house under the big apple tree in the fields of the New Republic and as children that play, we choose the rules that suit to please the moment, to accommodate our pleasures of instant near sightedness and selfish desires. It is our call because it is our story.
    Believe in your dreams because in America, we are destined to become anything that we strive for. We are able to overcome the hazards of life that in the other countries across the world have difficulty with, because we are given an endless supply of opportunity and guidance. ‘While the uncertainty can be stressful, we have endless possibility’…. all because of our bloodline.
   As a single mother of the next generation, the fatherless, the ‘we may have to live in exile’ children of tomorrow that will be with the right to play house too one day, I will teach them what I have been taught from my bloodline... to never give up.
   But I need to teach them to also accept when you are wrong, to admit when you are wrong… so they do not grow up as crooked crooks.
 I was wrong to marry someone that was not a United States Citizen.
   I was wrong to ruin his life, to make him miss us every day bringing him to the edge of depression. To keep his hopes high when the odds are not going in our favor, who exactly is at wrong here? It is I. It is my fault.
   It is my fault for believing that I should follow my dreams and to strive for a destiny that I would be able to overcome simply because of my accustomed American attitude and privilege. 
   It was wrong for me to birth children before stabilizing a citizenship in one of our countries. It was wrong for me to bring babies into this world that have to be without a parent and to suffer the heartaches that a child should never have to endure.
My guilt…
    Fine lines are being drawn in this child’s play about who should be allowed to play tomorrow. Did I dare to take initiative that was not a part of the rules and hope for mercy from my playmates? It depends on who the players are.
    On a given day the American life was of fair rules to those who played by the rules. Now I am marked, because I am married to a Mexican.
I have forfeited my bloodline…
in the name of love.
Default the child's game to that of a woman’s need – to love who she is meant to.
It is in my blood.

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