CLASSIFIED AMERICA

There are many Americas which inform the American Character. Understanding the delicate play of nature-versus-nurture is like studying social anthropology—where “whys” readily emerge from the social backdrop. The American Character is complex. It is a medley of places, realities, images and interpretations, as malleable as the winds inflating the American Myth. Here today, the concept may shift tomorrow, or whenever the air kicks up.

SUPERLATIVE AMERICA

America is a place of superlatives: busiest, freest, richest, fattest, most diverse, most democratic, most influential. Neon signs proclaim an ever-evolving dichotomy between neighbors, stores, interest rates, cars and shrimp. The maxim, “it’s the biggest!” plays on the tip of every well-salted tongue and the makers of Viagra, especially, proscribe to it. During the summer, it’s the hottest day recorded in the history of recorded history, local delis tout the iciest, coldest beer, and John, stuck in numbing gridlock amongst a fleet of over-bloated tin, complains vaguely, “this is the worst traffic I’ve ever seen!” Americans know—unlike the rest of the world—that singular adjectives are too-modest, reserved for obituaries, bland, workplace pleasantries and the word “unique,” which was coopted by the advertising industry. In America, the Yin and Yang of Maximum and Minimum flourishes. Civic life is an on-going awards ceremony where celebrities, prom queens and entrepreneurs compete for the best/worst/richest/thinnest/most-likely-to-succeed award. Even when Superman, our homegrown superlative hero, flies into the nation’s thickest metropolis, competition remains fierce. Outwitting Spiderman, J. Lo and Beyonce for the Front Page requires extraordinary X-ray vision. Americans employ superlatives collectively to simplify life. Choices resemble Oreos, and consumers frequently opt for rebates, carbohydrates, mortgages, calling plans and universities based on a superlative’s girth. Denizens often focus on the fastest way to get results, and ad men and politicians strategize, like plastic surgeons, on how to maximize given potential. In America, divisions create boundaries and limits, a finely-edged border delineating lowest from highest common denominator, making superlatives extremely difficult to dodge. And billboards, which guard the skies like immovable giants, never let Average Joe forget that American life is a Darwinian gambit—a survival of the fittest/richest/hardest working/most accomplished.

DAZZLINGLY WHITE AMERICA

An American’s mouth is full of blindingly white, perfect teeth—as ashen as the purest snows of Aspen. The English, French and Spanish, whose molars are craggy, sallow edifices and seldom opt for fluoride over flan, are intensely jealous. Because, if capsized together, an American could flash his bright teeth and God would throw him the first lifejacket. American ideals are equally as luminescent. An American’s belief in the majestic promise of democracy, loyalty and individual freedom often captivate cynics, much like a moth drawn to the blazing lick of a flame. No one knows why these ideals come off so bright, but Tide would certainly like to market it. This chirpy Yankee luster doesn’t always wash in Europe, where skeptics abound, and encouraging strangers brightly to “have a nice day” flummoxes the unprepared. But back inside America, the lights are on on, everyone’s at home, and the illumination casts an exhilarating glow. Americans also value equality, which is exceedingly, tantalizingly bright. It homogenizes the playing field, much like a team equipped with one-size-fits all, neutral/taupe GAP T-shirts. Equality, as all Americans read in their schoolbooks, helped the Neanderthal step out of the darkness of the past onto a new stage of history. Only the story, lacking a definitive end, remains vague. Many of the characters are still in development and lack speaking lines. But the plot continues to thicken, necessitating a change in lighting and perhaps the limelight will finally rest where it belongs—on good dentistry.

GRAZING AMERICA

America is full of restless grazers, foraging through buffets brimming with tubs of potato salad, pesto-laden pasta curls and murky, ruby-stained kidney beans. Americans graze through television channels, web sites, shopping malls, drugstore aisles and sample sales, nibbling away mindlessly, inebriated by Choice. An Italian man, confronted with the multitudinous range of spaghetti sauce offered by American supermarkets, stands on shaky ground. He will either fumble for his cell phone to make an international call home, or order take out. Grazers know that thick, lush grass lies beyond the distant horizon. Survival necessitates uprooting and moving on, and best-ward is always west-ward. Mississippi, Nevada, California, the ever-evolving frontier, all lead the way to toughening up milk teeth. The hardiest grazers are the first to discover a path to newer, succulent grass and whole cities boom in their wake. Once reaching the sands of the Pacific, grazers sometimes forget to stop. Reeds seldom grow in salty brine. But mouths full, they insist the grass in Hawaii is better, if only they could paddle there. Hunting and ruminating are definitely time suckers, to which the newly-arrived must quickly learn to adapt. Scouting broad horizons is a demanding sort of exercise, and soon, addictive. Americans graze harder, graze longer, aimed for a shot at the ultimate pasture—consolation for the fields they’ve left behind. But some snap after years of roaming and suddenly pull back, dreaming of fishing, barefoot, in Lake Michigan.

JUVENILE AMERICA

America is a land of teenagers, who like to hide their status behind fake IDs and lipstick. They are energetic, garrulous, fixated on action, sex and have an essential need to be entertained until they fall asleep, abruptly, with all the lights turned on. They dislike history because history is b-o-r-i-n-g and inevitably forget dates. When their parents, who they don’t completely trust, discuss their rich cumulative heritage, it’s difficult to concentrate. Teens don’t remember well, unless there’s a label attached, and short-term memory trumps the past—which is so yesterday. Juveniles often mouth opinions without fully understanding their weight. They prefer concepts reduced to sound bytes and, aside from those brainy honors geeks, would rather watch the movie than read the book. An older Canadian might be surprised, say, when no one offers the name of his Prime Minister, insisting Canada should have a President, but he will also notice a tangible awkwardness. Teens are incredibly sensitive. Their ignorance masks a certain naivety and inexperience with the ways of the world, which they must learn in order to become cosmopolitan. More than anything, teenagers are a process in the making. They are insecure, adventurous, assertive, confident, obstinate, boisterous and horny. Spurred by continual lust and hunger, they seek avenues to fill the gap, wolfing down whatever’s in the parent’s liquor cabinet. They are growing into their true selves, voices cracking and highly emotional, unaware of their role. They are the future—even if they haven’t thought about it yet.

ILLOGICAL AMERICA

America is full of contradictions because that’s the way God intended it to be—although which God harbored the intention is a lengthy discussion reserved for TV preachers, agnostics and the judicial system. In America, individualism is the raison d’etre and independence the cause du jour, but the calm is sometimes interrupted by grizzlies, who—though used to keeping to themselves—are naturally compelled to fill their bellies with other people’s picnic baskets. Americans consciously skirt paradoxes with the skill of an acrobat perched on a sword. Americans know that peace begets war, friendships are quick and quickly over, half the fat equals twice the calories and stability is a dream fueled by continual upheaval. Because America is an incongruous bundle of concepts that pepper the landscape like telephone poles, families and mixed company avoid paradoxical topics or fistfights quickly ensue. That whole cowboy thing is as American as Levis—except Levis are actually made in China. In America, irrationality is as inadvertent as Elvis’s discovery that grilled peanut butter and bananas make a winning culinary combination. Heavy thinkers are vaudeville performers, insight demands a drum roll, and rather than ridicule, Americans are apt to applaud. Americans know the human condition is one of insanity, which is why we look up to heroes in bright red tights—they’re easier to follow, until they exchange their costumes for a suit and tie.