I love being American, it’s like walking into a Thriftstore and seeing how hodgepodged and beat up and beautiful everything is. I love being the sort of ethnic bastard that mixes up every generation. I love homeade pie. I love white bread. I was almost born on Independece day (I like to take my time, so 26 hours of labor put me out on the 5th). I did my honors thesis on representation of FDR. And after college, I decided to really try the American-pull-mysel-up-from-my-bootstraps-and-be-humbled-by poverty and did AmeriCorps for two years. And I love living so close to DC.
So, like so many other things, where do I put all this love when I can’t light sparklers? I make cupcakes.
After several threads of the ideas came together last weekend as well as brainstorming on the GoogleDoc, I’ve decided on an AmeriCAN Dream cupcake: peanut butter and jelly. I know, it makes me want to giggle, too. I haven’t tried it yet, but I was thinking maybe a graham or vanilla cupcake (maybe mix??) then fill with jelly, top with a peanut butter icing? I’ve done chocolate peanut butter chip and have the icing down. Then to really go for it, ssome way to make the topping gold or sparkly… Ostentatious facade with a really humble but delicious cupcake. If that’s not American, then instead of reading anymore, maybe you can go buy some Hostess Cupcakes and sit your in front of the tv watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians or American Idol. Booyah. Taste tester party?

Where did this concept come from? I feel like distilling the American dream is sort of a life journey thing, not unlike the formation of faith or any other belief system. So I give credit to George Washington Carver, days spent talking about the American dream with friends and strangers, and the moments celebrating people like Sara Morgan. To me, the American dream is a distorted amalgamation of hope and unforeseen opportunity all lurking behind a gaudy facade of promises.
Failing at Fondant-My friend Yuli, a coworker from Artie’s, is a Peruvian immigrant who happens to be a kickass bartender and caker. She came over last Saturday to share some tricks of the trade. As we fell into the dreamy rhythm of braiding saltenas and spreading thick whips of icing, we had a lot of time to talk about her life here. Like many of the immigrants I’ve encountered, she came here under the premise she’d get rich. She believed, as do many of the people she left behind, that in America, everyone is rich. While in reality, most people are in debt, it got me thinking, “We could be rich. We could be anything.” And that ties it up, what she thought wasn’t true, but she got a set of completely different blessings. She has a brilliant 8 year-old who learned the language in 6 months and she herself has been working through the ESL program at NOVA and bar tending at Artie’s. Meanwhile, she’d like to learn as much about pastries and cakes as possible and one day open a business. While she may not get rich, I have every bit of confidence she’s going to succeed. So we had a wonderful afternoon talking about native born or not, America offers hope
Whose that guy on the dime?-When I went to college I was tooling around with a thesis on images of FDR in propaganda, so I get pretty giddy when it comes to talking about American nationalism. I love me some Frank Capra-Jimmy Stewart, who coldn’t love Mr. Smith Goes to Washington? It reminds me so much of the hopeful feeling I get when I think about our new president, Mr. Barack Obama. I believe great politicians have the talent and empathy to relate and represent the people of a country or community that they love. I believe that kind of leadership empowers and challenges its people to reflect and believe themselves capable of better lives and relationships.
Patriotism-Sara Morgan is one of the lovely young women I served with at Artie’s and we wished her farewell last Sunday as she looks to join the Army Nurses in San Antonio this week. She’s is the muse of empathy and commitment. Sara is an indominable worker, and I see her spirit and work ethic taking her anywhere she pleases. Her energy could propel everyne in the room. She’s the sort of person I really aspire to be more like.
These sort of beliefs and people don’t live on promises but act on belief that America is a place they can be proud of, a place where it is possible to make a life as wierd or mild mannered as you like. So, a cupcake I will make. Hopefully, tastey, warm, familiar, and unexpectedly good despite it’s silly facade.