I am an American mutt

My mother's father was from northern Italy. He came to the U.S. when he was 5.
My mother's mum was from Burgenland, Austria. She also came to the U.S. as a small child.

My grandfather on my father's side was from the northern mountains in Greece. He came over the U.S. at the age of 18.
My grandmother was English, she was a Quaker.

I am an american mutt. I sometimes feel have no real culture. I used to know Italian when I was a small child..I knew a little Greek too, but have since forgotten.

I am an american mutt. Even though I am a quarter English, Italian, Greek and Austrian, I have a french surname. This because of my Greek grandfather's involvement with the mob, he had to change his name and move far from where he lived to save the family. When attending classes or telling someone my name, I get asked the question, "are you french?" "No" I sigh and then explain...

I am an american mutt. I don't know the customs of the culture my grandparents came from. I wouldn't know how to contact distant family members if I tried. My grandparents are all dead and only my Greek grandfather told me of family members and his various exploits in Greece. My mother's parents couldn't remember their lives in their former countries and only told me of their experiences in Chicago (where they both grew up).

I am an american mutt.

I don’t even know who my genetic father is. How’s that for American? By the only father I know who raised me, my last name, Uhl, is German. My mother’s maiden name is Porter, and she’s a little Irish and Welsh, among other things. My brother, who is born by my mother from her first marriage, has Native American blood and it shows in his long limbs and skin color, but we do not have the same father. My mother had an affair on the edge of her divorce and met the man Bob Uhl after I was born, so he raised me as his own. His first marriage was to an Italian woman, who by being also Catholic bore him 6 children, all with brown hair and brown eyes, while Bob’s are green. So really I have no clue, but I’m sure I’m much the mutt. But onto the node.

I was listening to Consolidated on the way home from work. Their 1991 album, Friendly Fascism, is at best, good for a laugh and for making you think for a change when listening to music. It’s a band comprised of all white males who support gay rights, vegetarianism, abortion rights, racial equality, and banning war. On the album, there are recordings of post-concert open mic comments from the audience, which at best prove the ignorance of our generation. Now, I am a meat eating white woman who’s never had an abortion and whose brother is proudly enlisted in the US Army, so I don’t have much to say about my own state. However, I support the band’s rights, as I would any other group, on their right to say what they want in America, or about America. It’s a free country. That’s the idea.

I find it amusing, however, that while we are supposed to live in the most liberal of countries, we manage to find things wrong with the system, and, bearing on our rights as citizens, even those who speak out are treated as merely amusing by the status quo. We know, that in most cases, we will not be killed or even severely punished for what we say or believe, and so we are more motivated to push the envelope. There really aren’t any radical beliefs in America that aren’t getting as much air play as they are ever going to, and it’s a free market, give or take. Despite our liberty, there are big problems, to be sure, but only ones allotted for with so much freedom. At least we have the right to speak our minds without fearing the imminent. And we will likely have a favorable underground following, but it will eventually become mainstream and therefore defunct as a message. Almost everyone who has a toe hold on American culture can be bought for a price. Songs written in the 60’s with the intention of rebelling against the system are now being bought from their writers to advertise the products that supposedly make America so alluring to foreigners: jeans, Coca Cola, fast food, fast (and big) cars, media in all forms, and drugs in legal forms.

When a breed of dog has only been recently discovered, it’s pertinence is slim. It finds itself mixed up with other, more well known breeds, which is where you get your mutts. America, being only over 200 years old in comparison to well aged and established countries, is no different. We find ourselves unable to establish ourselves historically, so we make do with modernity, changing and mutating with such speed that no one really knows if they’re coming or going in this country, and like the traffic on the way home, we idle in ourselves, waiting for the light to change.

I am a Mutt. For some reason, people on this planet seem so worried about what nationality someone is, as if you can immediately tell personality traits from someone's origin and origin alone.

When people ask me what nationality I am, I used to say, "German, Polish, Irish, Scotish, and Korean."

That soon got reduced to, "Pick a bunch of countries in Europe. Add Korea. Shake and serve on ice. 110 proof makes for some crazy parties."

But that took to long. So now I just respond with "I pick D. other" or "I'm a mutt."

Much easier.

See also: The Half Asian Identity