Authentic Americans

Mine has been a thoroughly American life and experience--broadly, deeply American. I am 63 years old, and I was born to a multigenerational American family; my father was a successful small businessman whose ancestors came to America centuries ago, literally. My Mother's is a similar story. And my story is one of taking advantage of all the opportunities offered me because of that; mine has been the fortunate life that America offers. But I can only speak impersonally, philosophically and proudly in reference to my family's immigration experience so long ago. Other than the "where" and the probable "when" there is no recollection retained of who they were and what their uniquely American experience of first-generation American life was like.

The article shared and linked below reminds me that my life did not include the quintessential, but most difficult of American experiences: immigration, being a "first-generation American." I did not personally come here to escape religious intolerance, political tyranny, or economic hardship. I did not make the passage, the tortuous, often painful journey to a new, very different world to build a new life and a new identity. I was not called to that riskiest, most honest and transparent, most personal and American of experiences. It was left to me and most of you to be grateful for that foundation, to build on it and enjoy the best of what America offers today.

It is immigrants who were and are the most important Americans. And if each had their own type of first-generation American experience, in a real sense they also had a type of "first American" experience. Because they were and are first Americans. And they continue to make those passages and take those risks, to embrace the opportunity and challenges, the joys and pains, of being a first American today. They are willing to risk and sacrifice all just for the oportunity to earn a place here, and to bring to us everything they have to offer. And historically, that has been the best of everything we Americans are today. To me, in a most real and basic sense, they are also the most authentic Americans.

Albert Sabina is director of Hispanic initiatives for the Naples Daily News and naplesnews.com. To my view he and his family are among today's many authentic first Americans. This article by him reflects the pride he embraces both in the culture he came from and the culture and place--the identity, really--he now comfortably calls home. Mr. Sanina:

The Broadway musical "In the Heights" mamboed, hustled and merengued into the Naples Philharmonic Center on Monday, leaving a lasting impression on the audience — and in the most subtle and caring way bringing up issues about my identity I had not pondered for many years. With me, as with most Latinos, these issues lie dormant within our consciences.

Upon watching the first act, I was overtaken by my sense of pride as I saw Latino themes, story lines and sentiments eloquently presented. It is a rare opportunity as a "hyphenated" American — In my case Cuban-American — for me to witness such accurate, heartfelt portrayals of the Latino experience. "In the Heights" masterfully captured the essence of the U.S. migration saga in a way that not only rings true to Latinos, but can easily stir up the emotions of all Americans whose descendants arrived from somewhere else. The musical made me ponder my accented perspective, but even more powerful was the sense of pride it gave me as being an American and living in the most inclusive, welcoming country in the world.

At the crux of the "In the Heights" plot line is the notion of the place and culture that one defines as home. As the musical cleverly depicts, home is where one's friends and family are. Home is also where one feels they are a part of something greater.

"In the Heights" is the brainchild of Puerto Rican-American Lin-Manuel Miranda, who wrote the play in the winter of his sophomore year at Wesleyan University. Somewhere between shoveling snow and donning nine layers of clothing while braving the Connecticut cold, Miranda began questioning his sense of belonging. This introspection is familiar to millions of Americans like me.

My family and I settled in Los Angeles from Cuba in the late 1960s, sometime between the Kennedy assassination and Woodstock. At first I wanted nothing more than a quick return to my beloved Ranchuelo (my hometown in Cuba). However, geopolitics and history played a different hand, and I wound up listening to rock 'n' roll and watching Lakers games.

Assimilation, it's called. Yet the five-syllable word doesn't capture the tons of emotions that go into the process. "In the Heights" took me on a two-hour journey that tugged on every nuance and sentiment of the last 40-plus years of my assimilation. It made me laugh and cry, sometimes both at the same time.

The rhythm of the musical is heartwarming and the lyrics tug at the heartstrings. Abuela Claudia (Grandma Claudia) sings one of the musical's most poignant songs, "Paciencia y Fe" (patience and faith). It is a song that reflects the feelings of the many who came before us. When I heard the song, I could not help but think about my father, who arrived in this country with very little money in his pocket and several mouths to feed. Yet what sustained him, and all of us, was "paciencia y fe."

Usnavi, the protagonist of "In the Heights," concludes his home is in a little-known corner of Washington Heights, Manhattan, where people care about him. In return, he cares about their lives and about the place itself.

Watching and feeling "In the Heights" at the Phil reminded me Naples is my home — even if my soundtrack may have a little more salsa and spice to it.

http://www.naplesnews.com/news/2010/mar/30/albert-sabina-heights-brings-issues-about-my-ident/