Some Thoughts on the Fourth of July

I have a confession to make. I am not proud to be an American at this moment in our history. (Dear Canada, please tell Justin Trudeau we're not all like you-know-who.)

Recently, I performed in the musical Chicago. On the surface, Chicago is a biting, albeit hilarious, satire of America's preoccupation with celebrity and crime.

Photo credit: Dan Lea

This time around, the production resonated with me in a way it hadn't a decade ago when I originally performed in the show. Talk about America's current obsession with celebrity. A reality TV star is our president! (Insert grimace here.)

The "Cell Block Tango" also took on an almost poetic justice in light of the #metoo era. Calm down, people. I'm not saying women should kill their husbands and boyfriends for popping their gum too loudly. (Hyperbole, anyone?) But, boy oh boy, that number was empowering, considering all of the horrendous abuses of male power that have been exposed in the past year.

Photo credit: Glynis Calhoun

Then there was the immigrant story, a story I acted out on stage every night. At the same time I was pleading my innocence (in Hungarian for the most part), families in the real world, seeking amnesty and a better life in America, were being ripped apart at our border.

My character, the Hungarian immigrant (known as the Hunyak, a derogatory term for an immigrant from Hungary and/or Central Europe) is accused of a murder that she most likely, as implied by the English translation of her monologue and other dialogue in the script, did not commit. She is the only so-called murderess in the show hanged for her crimes, a result of the language barrier and the apathy of the U.S. justice system.

"Not guilty, Uncle Sam!" she cries out at the end of her life. The America she believed in is her ultimate downfall.

Several friends told me they teared up during that scene, especially in light of what was happening at our border. But also every night, a few people laughed when the emcee announced "The Hungarian Rope Trick" and my head went through the noose. Hopefully, the chortles in the audience were a knee-jerk nervous reaction and not due to a lack of compassion for our immigrant population.

It was with these things on my mind, that I "celebrated" July 4th this year. I tried to focus more on the fact that I visited my family, you know, the family with the cutest nephews in the world.

 

I wore my bright blue Neil Gaiman American Gods shirt, and my husband, Dan, wore a red and blue Hard Rock Cafe shirt. It was our way of being somewhat, but not very, subversive.

We drove to a July 4th parade in a nearby rural Idaho town with my brother and nephew and saw some rather disheartening displays of "patriotism." Yes, man wearing the "Veterans Before Refugees" T-shirt, I am looking at you. (Why does it have to be one or the other? We should be taking care of both.)

My family fell silent as a life size cutout of our Commander-in-Chief rolled by followed by two Republican Party floats. We were probably the only ones standing on that corner, shaking our heads sadly.

"There is definitely some hero worship going on," Dan said.

Despite those minor discouragements, we had a great time hanging out with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephews.

We had a barbecue and set off fireworks. They happen to live in a neighborhood where several immigrant families have settled. These neighbors, too, were joyfully celebrating with their families as Americans.

The morning after I got back to Boise, I was jogging around my own neighborhood. I came upon the house that sits on the corner of the park. At first, all I saw were the American flags posted across the homeowner's yard, and I started to roll my eyes.

I mean, this is the neighborhood where I run into some old guy wearing a "Make America Great Again" hat on a daily basis. I call the cul-de-sac down the street from us the Tea Party Circle because of the propaganda spewed all over the cars and lawns.

Then I saw the sign.

I was torn between crying and knocking on the door and hugging the people.

Instead, I took a picture and ran away.

#weloveourcountrytoo

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