Why are Americans so
united? They don't resemble one another even if you
paint them! They speak all the languages of the
world and form an astonishing mixture of
civilizations. Some of them are nearly extinct,
others are incompatible with one another, and in
matters of religious beliefs, not even God can count
how many they are. Still, the American tragedy
turned three hundred million people into a hand put
on the heart. Nobody rushed to accuse the White
House, the army, the secret services that they are
only a bunch of losers. Nobody rushed to empty their
bank accounts. Nobody rushed on the streets nearby
to gape about. The Americans volunteered to donate
blood and to give a helping hand. After the first
moments of panic, they raised the flag on the
smoking ruins, putting on T-shirts, caps and ties in
the colours of the national flag. They placed flags
on buildings and cars as if in every place and on
every car a minister or the president was passing.
On every occasion they started singing their
traditional song: "God Bless America!".
Silent as a
rock, I watched the charity concert broadcast on
Saturday once, twice, three times, on different tv
channels. There were Clint Eastwood, Willie Nelson,
Robert de Niro, Julia Roberts, Cassius Clay, Jack
Nicholson, Bruce Springsteen, Silvester Stalone,
James Wood, and many others whom no film or
producers could ever bring together. The American's
solidarity spirit turned them into a choir.
Actually, choir is not the word. What you could hear
was the heavy artillery of the American soul. What
neither George W. Bush, nor Bill Clinton, nor Colin
Powell could say without facing the risk of
stumbling over words and sounds, was being heard in
a great and unmistakable way in this charity
concert. I don't know how it happened that all this
obsessive singing of America didn't sound croaky,
nationalist, or ostentatious! It made you green with
envy because you weren't able to sing for your
country without running the risk of being considered
chauvinist, ridiculous, or suspected of
who-knows-what mean interests. I watched the live
broadcast and the rerun of its rerun for hours
listening to the story of the guy who went down one
hundred floors with a woman in a wheelchair without
knowing who she was, or of the Californian hockey
player, who fought with the terrorists and prevented
the plane from hitting a target that would have
killed other hundreds or thousands of people. How on
earth were they able to sacrifice for their fellow
humans? Imperceptibly, with every word and musical
note, the memory of some turned into a modern myth
of tragic heroes. And with every phone call,
millions and millions of dollars were put in a
collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family,
but a spirit which nothing can buy.
What on earth
can unite the Americans in such a way? Their land?
Their galloping history? Their economic power?
Money? I tried for hours to find an answer, humming
songs and murmuring phrases which risk of sounding
like commonplaces. I thought things over, but I
reached only one conclusion.
Only freedom
can work such miracles!
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De ce sint americanii
atit de solidari intre ei? Nu seamana unul cu
celalalt nici daca ii vopsesti! Vorbesc toate
limbile pamintului si alcatuiesc un amalgam ametitor
de civilizatii. Unele sint aproape disparute, altele
incompatibile intre ele, iar in materie de credinte
religioase, nici Dumnezeu nu le mai tine socoteala.
Si, totusi, tragedia americana a facut din trei sute
de milioane de oameni o mina strinsa pe inima. N-a
sarit nimeni sa acuze Casa Alba, armata si
serviciile secrete ca reprezinta o adunatura de
neispraviti. N-a fugit nimeni sa-si scoata banii din
banci. Nu s-a inghesuit nimeni pe strazile vecine sa
caste gura. Americanii au dat fuga sa doneze singe
si s-au oferit ca voluntari. Dupa primele momente de
panica, au ridicat steagul pe ruinele fumeginde,
punindu-si tricouri, sepci si cravate in culorile
drapelului national. Au fixat steaguri pe cladiri si
pe autoturisme de ziceai ca in fiecare loc si in
fiecare automobil trece un ministru sau
presedintele. Si cu orice prilej au izbucnit in
cintecul lor traditional: "God Bless America!".
Mut ca bolovanul, am
urmarit concertul de binefacere, difuzat simbata. O
data, de doua ori, de trei ori, pe tot felul de
canale de televiziune. Cu Clint Eastwood, Willy
Nelson, Robert de Niro, Julia Roberts, Cassius Clay,
Jack Nicholson, Bruce Springsteen, Silvester
Stallone, James Wood si citi au mai fost si pe care
nici un film si nici o casa de productie nu i-a
putut aduna vreodata la un loc. Spiritul
americanilor, de solidaritate, i-a transformat
intr-un cor. Cor e putin spus. Se auzea artileria
grea a sufletului american. Ceea ce nu putea spune
nici George W. Bush, nici Bill Clinton, nici Colin
Powell fara riscul de a se impiedica in cuvinte si
sunete, se auzea maret si inconfundabil in acest
spectacol de binefacere. Nu stiu cum Dumnezeu toata
aceasta cintare obsedanta a Americii nu suna nici
dogit, nici nationalist, nici ostentativ! Te facea
sa mori de ciuda ca nu esti in stare sa-ti cinti si
tu tara, fara a risca sa fii socotit sovin, ridicol
sau suspect de cine stie ce interese meschine. Ore
intregi am urmarit transmisia in direct si reluarea
reluarii, ascultind povestea celui care a coborit o
suta de etaje cu o femeie intr-un scaun cu rotile,
fara sa stie cine este, sau a hocheistului
californian, cel care s-a batut cu teroristii si a
impiedicat avionul cazut in Pennsylvania sa se
pulverizeze intr-o tinta, omorind alte sute sau mii
de oameni. Cum Dumnezeu reuseau ei sa se incline in
fata unui semen? Pe nesimtite, cu fiecare cuvint si
nota muzicala, amintirea unora se coagula intr-un
mit modern al eroilor tragici. Si cu fiecare apel
telefonic se adunau milioane si milioane de dolari
intr-o colecta menita a recompensa nu un om sau o
familie, ci un spirit ce nu poate fi cumparat cu
nimic.
Ce Dumnezeu poate
sa-i uneasca pe americani intr-un asemenea "hal"?
Pamintul acela? Istoria lor galopanta? Puterea
economica? Banul? Ore intregi am incercat sa gasesc
un raspuns, fredonind melodii si inginind propozitii
ce risca sa sune a locuri comune. Le-am intors pe
toate fetele, dar n-am putut trece de o idee.
Numai libertatea
poate face asemenea minuni!
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