"Stupid": article draft by Roosevelt Fitzgerald

STUPID BY ROOSEVELT FITZGERALD
Someone wrote a book titled The Way It Spozed To Be. What a title.
Reading that title, even without actually reading the book itself, sets one's mind to exploring the possibilities. Back in the late 1960s, Robert Kennedy said something similar to: "Most people see things as they are and ask why. I see things that never were and ask why not." Such thoughts are the true stuff of which dreams are made.
Wouldn't it be great if things could be the way they "spoze" to be? Think big—not worldwide, necessarily, but at least nationally. If we could be as great a country as we like to imagine we are and do all of the wonderful things which we claim to do or even mean the teriffic stuff that we've gotten so good at saying and be kinder and gentler like the current slogan.suggests, wouldn't it be great?
Not long ago I was in a little town a couple hundred miles north of Las Vegas and, while walking around, I came upon a fallen tree. It seemed inviting and restful in appearance and looking across it there was a panoramic view looking out over a great valley surrounded by mountains. It was a sunny day but there were a few clouds about and as I gazed off into the distance I could see the shadows of those clouds dancing up and down the ridges and canyons of the far away mountains and the far reaching plains of
the valley below. What a sight. I was near mesmerization and decided to
sit on the trunk of the fallen tree and soak up the serenity of the scene
which lay before me. I sat and my mind went on its own voyage of discovery
and released all of my muscles and nerves from their normal duties. One does not know where the tautness and the awareness goes when it goes but when it goes its gone. At some point my body was captured by gravity and I fell off my perch, bumped my head and sank into an almost unconscious dream world
where I rolled down the hillside to the valley below.
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When I had descended to about the 7000 feet level, I heard a loud cracking noise and, for an instant, everything was blue and then it wasn't. Next thing I knew I was in a town, on a street, walking and everyone I passed greeted me: "Good afternoon," "Beautiful day isn't it?" One fellow stopped me and asked; "What do you think about the new taxes?" Another asked if I had heard anything about the possibility of a new doctor being found for the community. I was perplexed as to where I was. People had the usual concerns but they were different from people I had known before, Oh sure, I had known nice people but over the years I had known fewer and fewer and, anymore, one has to go out of one's way to find nice people. In that place they seemed to be coming out of the woodwork.
T didn't know where the heck I-was. After walking several blocks and encountering more of the same almost with each step, I began to see a sign unfold. First I saw "America" and I was relieved. I don't know why. I had not really thought that I was somewhere other than in America but once I saw that word it occurred to me that I had to be somewhere else. Afterall, people in America are not that way. People in America do not have a genuine concern for anyone but themselves and more and more they seem not to have it even for that. Then I saw "of" and then "States" and then "United" and then "Real" and, finally, "The." The Real United States of America is what the entire sign said.
I stood there and stared at the sign for the longest time. I guess my behavior appeared unusual and at least one person was curious enough to approach me and ask; "You ok sonny?" I turned and looked at him and he had a sincere look of concern on his face. His hair was silver and he must have been at least 80 years old. "Yes sir," I responded. "I watched you standing there for right at half an hour and I became worried that something might be wrong." "I was just looking at the sign on the wall of that building."
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"I see." "What does it mean—'The Real United States of America'?" "What does it mean?" "Yes sir. What does it mean?" "You're an American, right?" "I think so." "You're not sure?" "Well, I've never seen a sign like that." "Have you been out of the country or in a coma or some hospital or something?"
I don t think so." "You don't know very much about yourself do you? Come over here and sit down and I'll tell you about that sign."
The story he told me was amazing. As he spoke I regretted the way I had run my life. I hadn't taken care of myself because I had had no great ambition for living any longer than I absolutely had to. The America that I knew was the way it was and not the way it was supposed to be. It was not worth living in. It was brutal and ruthless, uncaring and abusive. It was oppressive and murderous. It was divided and conquered. It was a place filled with orators and shining words. It offered little hope and great despair but what he described in this "Real" America was different. The yarn he spun would've made Aaesop envious.
The America that he described is the America one sees on the evening news when someone defects from one of the Iron Curtain countries or something. Have you ever noticed how well they are treated? Have you ever noticed how they are made to feel important when they come to America? They get the red carpet treatment and when there is nothing to assist some of us who are here there is always help for them.d| I don't necessarily mean monetary help but the kind of help that cannot be spent—the kind of help that doesn't necessarily push one ahead but it definitely does not pull or hold one back.
Those defectors from the countries of our cold war enemies have carte blanche to go, to rent, to buy and to live anywhere in the country that they desire. Even in places like Cicero, Illinois they can live. They can live in places in Georgia where we cannot even walk the street without being called dirty names. They become "real Americans" upon their arrival.
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But here in the "real" America things were different. For the first time in my life I was treated like a human being--just a plain human being. I didn't know how to act. For the first time in my life I wished I still had my whole life ahead of me instead of behind me. Then there was that blue flash again and I found myself lying on my back, feet up in the air right at the tree stump where I had fallen, bumped the back of my head and suffered a mild concussion. It was all a dream. There was no "real" America afterall.
As I pulled myself off the ground I thought; "I'll sneak out of the country and then come back and that way I'll be treated great like those other defectors. Then I remembered those four Haitians chained and caged. I remembered the Jaimacians, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Vietnamese, and other people of color who have come here. I remembered how they are treated as compared to those iron curtainites.
It was a stupid dream.