• Saturday, February 21st, 2009

America, you have always been my beautiful dream.

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America, when I was seven years old you were my first girlfriend, and I still love you.

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America, I was so happy you were never married or divorced.

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America, I was born in a small, lonely town of St. Ivan where our church bell rang twice a day, but the words “bread, God and America” rang ALL DAY LONG.

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America, when I was a young boy I had a hobby of feeding animals and birds and very often I had to tell them, “There is no more food.” I promised them that America will send us some food. My beautiful girl, my dream, always came true.

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America, I waited for Santa Claus 365 days of the year, and I always asked my Mother, “Where does Santa Claus live?” She always replied,” “In America.”

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America, my Mother had patience of a saint. She always told me, “Can you please stop asking me so many questions?” I remember one of the questions I asked her was, “Who is God and where does God live?” She answered me, “God is God, and God lives in America.” Her answer was not a lie.

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America, when I was a very young boy, I never saw and I never played with toys. What I do remember, and can still taste, is the fresh taste of a Hershey’s chocolate kiss, sent to me from America. It’s a “taste” which I will take with me to the grave.

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America, when I was little, I often wore clothes that the American Santa Claus sent me. I can still remember, how everything was so large on me. This made me extremely happy because I could wear it for many years to come.

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America, I used to ask my Mother, “How many Santa Clauses live in America?” She always told me, “One!” “God rest her soul in an American grave; she did not tell me a lie!”

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America, I remember IT so well and, yet, it was a day so very long ago. I dressed myself in some clothing that was sent to me by my American Santa. I then filled up both of my pocket pants with hay, and I stuffed my big hat with hay, as well. I took a walk to my old friend, Anton’s house, who did not love America. As I knocked on his door, I could hear him saying from inside, “Who is it?” I replied, “An American.” As I stepped in and over the doorstep he asked me, “What is that, you have in your pockets and hat?” I told him, “Lots of money in my pockets, and a big brain in my hat.”

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America, my beautiful and good aunt, Jean Fanuka, mailed my family a package in 1947, and inside, I found a picture postcard of N. Y. City which had many stars and streetlights. As I sat on my windowsill wearing a huge hat, and a huge American-made suit, I held that postcard and I looked up at our sky and counted the stars. I fell asleep and found myself falling down on the terrace. This truly was, and still is, a beautiful and a well cherished memory of my childhood. For close to five decades, as I drive over the 59th Street Bridge, and I look up at the skyline of N. Y. C., I am still deeply touched by beautiful America and the beautiful N. Y. C.

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America, “my beautiful girl,” as I was growing up, you were always on my mind. I always asked myself and wondered, “What kind of a wife and a Mother would you be, and what kind of a Mother and a Father brought you up?” “Who brought you up?” “They were two parents, hard working parents, who had a strong mind and a strong heart.” They were Americans, and they were those who were proud to be called, “Americans.”

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America, a beautiful girl, as I was growing up, I tried to analyze your mind. You were single and were not ever ready to marry anyone. You were not only on my mind, but you were all over the sky. You loved this world and you still do. Take my word, “The world loves you, as well.”

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America, a beautiful girl, don’t ever be sorry. This world has been married and divorced so many times. You were not. This world has changed. You have not. America, if you get married, the world will get divorced. The world, as well as the young children, will suffer. The world will miss you, and they will not be able to “buy the truth.”

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America, my beautiful girl, I am getting old, and so are those who have loved you for so many years. America, you will die where you were born, in our eyes, minds and hearts, and forever, you will live with us. The truth will grow, and the new world will “read” our old truth and minds. Thousands of years from now, America, a beautiful girl, your life’s beauty will not be lost. However, in the meantime, some of the world would slowly like to change your attire, your beauty, and your mind. They would like to alter, YOU, the WORLD’S HEART. World, if America is unable to help you, you will not be able to help yourself. World, by helping America, you will be helping yourself! America’s wisdom, America’s senators, Democrats and Republicans, a small healthy fight has to create a healthy life’s balance, as it traditionally did, in the past. America, as well as the world, are facing bad times. America’s senators, please stay close together like a hardwood floor. America, my beautiful girl, don’t ever get married, because there is no existing country that hasn’t had a divorce, or is fighting for a divorce. A beautiful land, a beautiful country, beautiful flowers, I LOVE YOU ALL.

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