These days, being a patriotic American seems to almost require that you be a blind sided white bread "uhmericun." But, as I sit thinking about it, and the pain and struggle that went into bringing together the unlikely confluence of genetics that gave rise to me and others of my generation, I just feel the need to give props to those that came before.
Uncle Angel who gave us pollo con arroz and other Puerto Rican and Columbian comfort food that warms the heart to this day.
Cousin Tony, and his family who gave us Capicola and Salami. On big white bread buns with oil and vinegar. Sandwiches that are equaled, but never bettered.
Aunt Betsy who gave us Kielbasa and sour kraut. Grandma's chicken and dumplings with cracklin's in cornbread. Etc. etc.
Americans are not from America. At least not the vast majority of us. We are from "the old country." And if, in this day and age we can't stop and relate to those who are recently come from there, wherever there is, or are still there, where ever there is, then that's on us. And shame, shame on us.
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