Patriotism

PATRIOTISM
CHRISTOPHER ANTI-WHORE woke up in the morning with the following sentence coming out of his head: "The United States is not the greatest country in the world." During his shower and later at the breakfast table, the words receded back into the more remote and secret places of his mind; and he felt safe. But while dressing–-while pulling on his pants, and then putting on his socks and shoes--the suspicion returned: "The United States is not the greatest country in the world."
He left the house without mentioning to his family this new possibility.
On his commute, however, the words increased both in volume and in size. And when he walked into his office at the publishing house and was greeted with a hearty "Good Morning, Chris!" from a co-worker, he replied, surprising even himself, "The United States is not the greatest country in the world."
The colleague looked back at him startled, but, after pausing, both in stride and in thought, said nothing and walked on.
Throughout the day, the idea drifted in and out of Christopher’s head, sometimes becoming so pronounced that he had no other choice but to utter the words out loud. Other times, the concept slipped back and away into his subconscious. But mostly–-and probably fortunately--when the thought emerged, he was able to keep it contained and subdued.
That evening, at dinner with his two children and his one spouse, he informed them of his new observation: "The United States is not the greatest country in the world." His family listened attentively and seemed to accept the notion with a calm that was as admirable as it was surprising. Perhaps they already knew. For they just nodded, one after the other, apparently feeling no need to elaborate on the fact.
The following day at work, Christopher’s supervisor, Ed Bible, stuck his head into his--Chris’s--cubicle to notify him of the new deadline on a manuscript. Christopher turned from the window he’d been staring at and replied, "The United States is not the greatest country in the world."
Ed looked at him--peered at him, really--his forehead growing a wrinkle, and said, after a moment’s pause, "Excuse me?"
But Christopher just waved a hand in the air to indicate that it was nothing to be overly concerned about.
The next morning, Ed peaked his head into Christopher’s office again and said, "I’d like to talk to you about that proposal you ran past me yesterday."
Christopher looked up from the ballpoint pen he’d been reassembling and stared blankly at the man. He then raised a single index finger and in a motion that seemed to indicate that he was about to impart some new and important information, said, after waiting the appropriate few seconds: "God is not a man."
Ed blinked his eyes. Twice.
"Not even remotely."
This time Ed did not blink at all; neither did he speak.
Christopher motioned with his same index finger for Ed to lean forward. Then he whispered, "That piece of information is not for everyone."
* * * * * * *
Throughout the remainder of the week Christopher shared with his co-workers his observations on the state of the union. It never became entirely disruptive--in fact, he never initiated the conversation on his own; he brought up the matter only after a discussion had begun and had turned to something he thought related to his new insight. Nonetheless, some of his colleagues began to feel uneasy when they saw him approaching in the hallway or when he sat down with them in the lunchroom. Some even expressed their discomfort to their supervisors.
* * * * * * *
Christopher’s new-found insight worked its way into many aspects of his life. At the supermarket, when the checker would begin to scan his items and greet him, Chris would return with a nod and a smile, "The United States is not the greatest country in the world."
At the service station, after filling his car with gas and then paying the cashier, he would include, after his customary "Thank you," "The United States is not the greatest country in the world."
Or at the movie theater, the concert hall, a sporting event, Christopher would remark to the ticket taker or even to the person sitting next to him in the stands, perhaps after a remarkable play, "You know, the United States is not the greatest country in the world."
Even at parent-teacher conference, while discussing the children’s school progress with the instructor, he would insert--or sometimes Kristine, the spouse, would insert--during the awkward pauses that always occurred at these meetings, the same important message: "The United States is not the greatest country in the world."
* * * * * * *
Christopher’s automobile ran fine and smooth. His gas oven range was new and had lots of burners on top. The refrigerator and microwave complemented each other in sound. There was a clock in every room. The dog, Tiger, and the cat, Rex, got along perfectly. The lawn in the front yard matched the lawn in the backyard, not only in color but in thickness. His garbage bin too matched his neighbors’, and both his and theirs looked fine on Friday mornings when they were all lined up on the street for the sanitation engineers to come by and to empty.
* * * * * * *
Within weeks of Christopher’s epiphany, Ed, his supervisor, called him into his office. They had an important item of business to discuss, he had said. When Christopher arrived for the meeting at 10:00 a.m. sharp, he was greeted not only by Ed, but also by Ed’s immediate supervisor, the managing editor, as well as by the Chairman of the Board. Everyone looked at everyone; no one shook anyone’s hand; they all sat down.
"We’ve called this meeting," Ed began, "to try to clear up some things that have been going on here at the office the past few weeks." He looked around the room to make sure that he had proceeded correctly. His superiors nodded their approval. "Mr. Gunn"-–Ed glanced at the Chairman–-"was initially not invited, but when he learned of the statements you’ve been making to your-–to our--colleagues, he insisted that he be here to hear your explanation." Again, Ed looked to Mr. Gunn for approval; and again, he got it.
The three in charge looked to Christopher, indicating that it was now his turn to speak.
Christopher looked back at the three men, collectively--and then individually--pausing on each one of them. He smiled pleasantly, but inwardly he wondered what they had eaten for breakfast; he wondered if it had involved the killing of animals, the use of fossil fuels, extensive preparation; he looked at the clothing they were wearing--the coats, the shirts, the patterns on the ties; he wondered where their clothes had been made, who had made them, where they had been bought. He tried to imagine Mr. Gunn shopping for clothes and trying on coats or having his inseam measured. Christopher had a difficult time imagining any of this. He returned his attention to the question at hand: He shrugged his shoulders. "I have no explanation."
The three men looked at each other, impatience growing on their faces. The older men looked at Ed, waiting for him to demonstrate his control of the situation. It was a test. And Ed was ready: "Will you please tell Mr. Gunn what you’ve been telling me the past few weeks?"
It was not a question, of course. And Christopher knew that. But he also knew that these were serious men; and serious men were to be taken seriously. Christopher Anti-Whore looked back at Ed--looked back at him with a question of his own, but one that he knew he could never ask--verbally; and so he remained quiet and serene for a moment and just looked past him to the window beyond. He took a breath. He looked down at his hands, the wedding band on his left hand. He touched it, spun it. He thought thoughts; he spoke thoughts: words: a sentence: "It speaks for itself."
Mr. Gunn broke in. "What speaks for itself?" he demanded. "What do you mean when you say that the United States is not the greatest country in the world? That God is not a man? That the work ethic is bunk?"
Oh, my God! Christopher thought. I told Ed that one too? He took another breath and looked at the Chairman of the Board--neither in fear nor in defiance. He did not really care if he--or any of them, for that matter--understood or not, but he wondered how–-if he chose to so elaborate--he could help them to see the simplicity of it all, how he could assist them, how he might be able to explain to them any number of things. But then, even as the words of the thoughts in his head were forming, he asked himself, How can I explain to them what I do not even understand myself?
So Christopher looked back at his accusers, but what he saw now–-what caught his attention now--more than anything else, was their similar, though not identical, ties: the different colors, the different patterns, but the corresponding knots at the neck.
Without much real thought, he reached back--way back, as far as he could--into that reservoir of his own empirical self, and said the most fundamental--the most basic--thing he could think of to say, "We’re all naked under our clothes."
Mr. Gunn got up; the other two got up. At the door the Chairman of the Board turned around, faced Christopher in the emptying room, and said with conviction, "The United States is the greatest country in the world. God is a man. The work ethic is not bunk. And you, my friend, are fired."