Letter from Romania

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Letter from Romania

An ode to America. . .
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 colors 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 bow before a fellow human?

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!
Editorial from a Romanian newspaper

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