America: Melting Pot or Tossed Salad?

I felt it would have been folly to turn down an opportunity to witness a sporting event that took on a level of national pride. Specifically an event that involves one of my favorite sports, soccer. That opportunity came when USA would be hosting Argentina in a friendly at Giants Stadium on June 8th. Without hesitating I said yes, then I asked my wife, then I said yes again. At that time of acceptance to witness a clash of titans no one would expect that any of these two teams would be ranked number one in the world. That was until Argentina received that dubious moniker. What would be billed as a friendly would now be a clash between the US. Always the underdog because of our shortcomings in the international sport, and Argentina, the best in the world. (Personally I'm biased towards Germany)

Upon embarking for this match up, myself, Jay Partyka, Steve Provell and his girlfriend July took in the sites and sounds of the tailgating at a soccer match. Particularly the 

massive amount of Argentinean BBQ and American chutzpah. The sweltering heat that day would be caveated by the occasional spot showers that were traversing the state. 

We welcomed the momentary coolness as we basked in the sights and sounds of the Giant Stadium parking lot. In one instance there was a minor revelry of American patriotism in a bagpipe and drum combo playing the classical tunes of our forefathers. Whilst in the background the chanting of Argentina and half sober prophets laying down a dooming score line of 

four to nothing Argentina. Regardless of the opposition the small duo played on and brought cheers to U.S. fans in the vicinity.

As the time came for the game to begin we made our way into the stadium through crowds of light blue and white and American flags. We walked the spirals to the first level of Giants Stadium and walked down the small concrete steps to the fourth row on the American supporters side of the stadium. The constituents were chanting and jumping up and down as the U.S. players warmed up. The heat was oppressing in the stadium but that could not keep the gleeful mood of

 American supports from cheering the whole match. A large American flag was unfurled over our section, then another banner was unfurled, I believe it to be a banner of a jersey with the number 12 on it.

The match was certainly a struggle for the U.S. but Tim Howard kept the team in the game and after some near chances Argentina and the U.S. played to a 0-0 draw. The match would come to an end ad-mist a massive downpour of rain that only seemed to make the U.S. play better and raise the support up to a level or deafening proportions. I have been to many NFL games at Giant Stadium but the amount of noise that I heard as U.S. striker Landon Donovan took a series of corner kicks at the end of the game was the loudest I have ever heard the stadium. 

Looking out on the stadium, the U.S. team was certainly outnumbered in supporters. A see or light blue and white took up the majority of the stadium. Many Argentineans confidently expecting Lionel Messi to cut through the U.S. defense and make a mockery of the national team. The promise of America was confidently on display in the mixing of two cultures to watch a soccer match. In fact the U.S. players on the field, all having there own history of personnel ancestry, proudly displaying their heritage through sport but calling themselves American. Melting pot or tossed salad the international competition brings out the flavor of America. Some may view sport as a means to see who is better, to avoid the conflicts that nations may find themselves hurdling towards or possibly a means to peace. 0-0 seems an appropriate score. I can't help but think that when we consider ourselves better than others we do a disservice to the creeds and ideals of those who founded this nation. Though being outnumbered in support at what is considered a home match there is a joy to seeing so many celebrating their home nation in a nation who's backbone is those from all over the world.

Pointless or viable?

Recently I hit the road on a sixteen hour trip from New Jersey to Chicago. A tenuous drive, but one that was easily alleviated by some good tunes from my IPOD. I was not alone on my journey, two good friends of mine, Karl and Steve, accompanied me to Arise. (A worship and arts conference at Willow Creek Community Church.) For each of us our musical tastes very, though we appreciate each others music and have many musical similarities. One point that we differ on is rock music. No my friends are not classical music junkies, but they don't listen to most music that is deemed "secular." They don't have a problem with most of the music, it's just that they choose not to listen to it. But with there request that I bring my IPOD along for the trip they were warned that there would be some music that they never listen to. Most importantly David Bowie. One request that was made to me was that I give some history on David Bowie and his music and I duly obliged.

As we traveled and the music of David Bowie would come up out of the random shuffle, I would proceed to tell the stories and the history of David's music.  For each song there was a bit of information that over the hours Karl would eventually say to me, "You really know allot about David Bowie." Like a ton of bricks falling I realized that I did, and at a moments notice of a single note being played I could bring out information of who, what, when, where, why and how on David Bowie's music. Certainly it was appropriate that many of the songs we listened to came from the Aladdin Sane album, being that it was an album influenced by David's Ziggy Stardust tour of America. How did I get to this point of knowing all this information about David Bowie?

The school bus stopped at the corner of Valleybrook Court and I finished another day as a sixth grader. Entering my house, all alone I had free reign to do what I wanted to do for just a short hour. Many days it was just sitting in front of the television and having a snack but some days I would have this urge just to put on some music. I would pop open the glass door on our entertainment system and flip the top of the record player. (Yes, record player.) Find some records that had songs that felt the way I was feeling and put them on. One day I found this album that the title alone expressed how I felt. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. What on earth is this, I wondered. I put it on, heard this weird voice and let the record spin for a little bit. I changed records after a few seconds putting this weird album back on the shelf and going to something more familiar.

Flash forward. The heat of the summer is in full swing and I'm preparing to go on vacation with my cousin, aunt and uncle. I'm in this confusing transition of eighth grade to freshman. I'm a Beatles freak and that's all I'm listening to. Instead of listening in my living room where my parents are I'm upstairs with a little more freedom. Grabbing piles of records and just listening for hours, slowly falling into myself with the Beatles. As I grab a stack of records I notice some David Bowie records. Hey there's that Ziggy Stardust album. Next to it is an album called Young Americans. The cover shows a very different looking David Bowie than that of the Ziggy Stardust era. But there's a song on the Young American's album, Across the Universe. A cover of a Beatles tune, and John Lennon's name is on the album notes as being a contributor. I gotta check this out, in fact let's bring Ziggy along and give that a listen to.

Across the Universe is played, sounds different but there's a different power to it. Ziggy Stardust is put on and Hang onto Yourself blasts through the headphones with delight. The words of Five Years strikes a chord in me and Ziggy Stardust tells a tale like none I've ever imagined. One listening of the record becomes two, then three and before I know it the Beatles record's are on the shelf and I'm surrounded by Bowie records. I was bit by the bug of Bowies music and the next four years I listened over and over again to everything Bowie I could get my hands on. I read books, collected magazines from Ebay and created a personnel library of information on a musician.

Now I wonder about all that I've learned and think that maybe all of the information that I immersed my brain into could all be pointless. I became fanatic over a musician who is just a musician. (And an artist and an actor.) While I criticized the teeny-boppers and boy band lovers of my time I was just as bad with classic rock'n roll star. I guess that's the power of music and the effect of one persons life on another. David Bowie and I are miles apart and generations different but at times his words seem like they're hitting on my emotions. That's what good musicians and artist do. They tap into the human condition and find connections between people. So maybe knowing all there is to know about David Bowie may not change the world but it's changed me.