“Character is Destiny” -Heraclitus
As the Greek philosopher implies—there seems to be a direct correlation between these two nouns. The dictionary defines character and destiny as follows:
Character: The aggregate of features and traits that form the individual nature of some person or thing; a trait or characteristic; a moral quality or integrity; good repute; status or capacity.
Destiny: the events that will necessarily happen to a particular person or thing in the future.
But character is also be defined and revealed through the alchemy of time, experience and wisdom, accrued and applied—as a way of being, demonstrating or responding.
So, you ask, “Why should I be so concerned with this question of character and destiny at this point in time—and where do I fit in to all of this?” Well, simply stated, I am in my seventh decade now—an elder. I still want to understand and try to make sense of what lessons my country’s character has given to me and continues to impart. The writer T.S. Eliot once wrote, “Old men should be explorers.” And while my physical explorations are minimal now, perhaps this is an attempt to explore and revisit a relationship that has lasted my whole life. We are enmeshed—no doubt about it. It has been a tempestuous relationship that has taken on its own volatile “character traits”—filled with love and hope, with anger and rage, with faith and joy, with sorrow and heartbreak. It has been a loss of innocence all along the path and throughout the years.
The Anglo-Irish poet David Whyte talks of there, “Being no relationship, that will not break your heart—whether it be in a marriage, or between parents and children; that you will break their hearts, or they will break yours.” It is in fact, an ongoing journey to achieve an intimacy and trust—and I am constantly being reminded more and more of that these days. One phrase, perhaps a mantra now, that might be helpful, and simply stated is: “that it is not either/or—but both/and.” Yet this is where I often stumble in explaining to myself this difficult relationship—the ambivalences, the contradictions and paradoxes of how my country and its populace, responds and reacts—of how we dance with one another, while listening to a soundtrack that keeps us mostly off balance and out of sync. It is an American tune composed of dissonant notes unable to locate the right melody and tempo. It’s the awkwardness of your first prom date and dance.
My exploration to reveal our nation’s character and destiny originates before my birth— before both of my parent’s births. Like many other immigrants’ tales over the last two centuries, the story begins thousands of miles away, in the early 1900s—with both sets of grandparents, forced to abandon their homelands, because of war, poverty and religious intolerance and embarking on a journey of fevered imagination. Upon arrival, they found not a perfect country—but a country that was still in the process of learning about itself.
My earliest school memories up through junior high school were of starting the day, standing beside our desks and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, our hand upon our hearts, followed by a truncated version of America the Beautiful. Prayer was not allowed in public schools any longer, but the stoic daily repetition of those words and lyrics were the red, white and blue prayer shawl we all wore—with no questions asked and minimal understanding required. My academic history lessons over the years were limited to the proscribed textbooks of the era and were unremarkable, to say the least, and certainly not woke, as the popular expression is applied today.
Of course, the major historical events were talked of, and were “easily covered,” in chapters or units of study as they were called back then—the Revolutionary War for Independence, The War of 1812, the Mexican-American War, the Civil War, the Spanish-American War, World War I and World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War—lots of wars! Discussions and critiques of our government and its policies towards Native-Americans, Afro-Americans, Mexicans and Mexican-Americans and Asian-Americans, as well as other ethnic and religious minorities never seemed to come up in the lesson plans! In fact, it was pointed out that our “Founding Fathers” appeared to possess much more character, compared to the tyrant wearing the powdered wig and crown, across the Atlantic, trying to oppress us early on. Although many of these same gentlemen farmers just so happened to be white and rich and owned, oppressed, defiled and violated the flesh of their “human property”—which gave another meaning to the term “Our Founding Fathers!”
But the reality of my country’s character appeared to me on the streets and neighborhoods as a child—in different living environments, both on the East and West Coast, where I resided— and in my early travels throughout this country. My friends were of many colors and ethnicities when living in the housing projects of New York City—then disappeared after my family’s move to the suburbs—the palette of skin colors blanching into a sea of whiteness.
At age 10, in 1959 America, traveling to the South by car, I was given a front row seat to views that included unpaved country roads, rickety shacks, with no foundations, no running water and no toilets; of children playing in dirt front yards, while their elders sat and rocked away their lives on front porches; of colored and white signage displayed in towns; of chain gangs and men wearing stripes. And I quietly wondered, is this our nation’s character and destiny? No answers!
With yet another family move, in my early teens, friends of color reappeared in the public school, but again disappeared on buses and subways—me traveling uptown, they traveling downtown after 3:00p.m.—none lived in my neighborhood to play or hang out with. And still I wondered? Is this our nation’s character, its destiny and still no answers!
By the time I reached high school and college in the mid-to-late1960s and early1970s, I had become familiar with what our nation’s character seemed to be—despite how much I wanted it to be different. It was not the beautiful sermon of the Reverend Martin Luther King, “That the day would come when people would be judged, not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” (And there’s that word character again!), but one that seemed for the most part, to be at odds with itself—in what it preached and what it practiced—from 2-4-6-8, We Don’t Want to Integrate—to We Shall Overcome—to Revolution Has Come, Time to Pick Up the Gun—to I Can’t Breathe—to No Justice, No Peace.
They say history and culture are part of what informs us of who we are. In the last half of the Twentieth Century up till the present day, we have witnessed and still witness events that challenge us like never before— and seemingly “define” us in ways that are remarkable. Just read our history books for the many lessons and indications of how this country’s birthing pains continue—and how we still struggle to deliver on its promises.
Should I be surprised at our present situation—No!
But I am—and I am disappointed.
We know the answers to what our nation’s character has been—the destiny we have saddled ourselves with for over two centuries. We have seen the guiding philosophies, the economics and the politics— that has been the engine’s fuel driving this train across our country—a train that has not allowed, nor picked up all the passengers along the way— that have been left stranded and waiting.
The writer William Faulkner wrote, “The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.” And so, I continue to search for our country’s true character. But after fifty plus years, I am wondering if this is not a fool’s errand—that we as people, as a nation, are perhaps, still haunted by too many ghosts from the past.
So, what is it have I accomplished—what lessons have I learned, in my search for the character and destiny of the country? Well, it is has become clearer that although the fragile guardrails of our democracy have often been bent—they have not been broken yet—and that we still have not formed that more perfect union—that project is a work in progress—still under construction—the time to be determined, (TBD) for completion—uncertain.
But I am an old codger—and will not be dissuaded from continuing my explorations. The lessons I have learned have been my intimate companions on this journey—and have allowed me to continue to discover my own character and destiny over time. And those answers just might have to suffice for now.
However, in the end, the question still remains— how will this country— my country—your country—our country, define its character—and therefore its destiny, going forward?