It’s July 3, 2018, and I am in my local grocery store with a good friend from Richmond. John buys some sparklers and fireworks for my grandchildren, who know him as Uncle John, and a six-pack of Budweiser Light Orange. I buy some chocolate chip cookies and ice cream—cookie dough and moose tracks—for making ice cream sandwiches for eleven of the grandchildren; some California chardonnay; bagels on sale; some cream cheese; and some strawberry jam.
As we walk through this grocery store, which is similar to thousands more across the country, I say to John, “This is America.”
As we walk through this grocery store, which is similar to thousands more across the country, I say to John, “This is America.”
He nods, knowing exactly what I mean.
Here is a huge store bustling with customers, many of them buying last minute items for Independence Day. Here we is a supermarket where we can buy beer and wine from the United States, Germany, France, Holland, Argentina, Australia, and half a dozen other countries; where we can select oranges, watermelons, tomatoes, apples, and dozens of other fruits and vegetables; where we can buy everything from salmon to sardines, cookies to freshly baked cakes, hams and turkeys, frozen dinners of all sorts, dozens of different cheeses.
This is America.
This store and all its thousands and thousands of goods are a product of free enterprise, which in turn is a product of the liberty espoused by our forefathers in such documents as the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. The food and other goods found in this store dwarf the pantries of history’s kings and emperors. The edibles found in this store, produced by less than 10% of our population, represent a step for humankind that should boggle the imagination.
These products arrive in this store because men and women produce and manufacture them, and then ship them. The box of wine I purchase is the product of a thousand minds and hands. The cardboard box, the plastic containing the wine, the plastic spigot, the wine itself: all came together because of engineers, farm workers, manufacturers, truck drivers, and store managers.
This is America.
The store presents shoppers with thousands of choices. Those who eat healthy foods buy greens and vegetables, lean meats and fruits; those who pay less attention to their diet carry home frozen dinners and potato chips, sugared cereals and candies. Those who looking for drinks can find an entire aisle stocked with colas, spritzers, and juices; those looking for alcoholic beverages can select from hundreds of wines and a refrigerated cave filled with beers from around the world. Those wanting fresh backed pies and bread visit the bakers; those wanting sushi go to the deli.
This is America.
Compared to any other generation before us, the great majority of Americans live like kings. Even the poor among us can buy good food, own various electronic devices, and drive cars.
We became kings by first getting rid of a king. Two hundred and forty-two years ago, a group of men meeting in Philadelphia declared that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness,” vowing to support this idea with “our Lives, Our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.”
This grocery store exists because of liberty and the pursuit of happiness, that is, men and women pursuing different goals and doing the work that every day brings together the food, employees, and customers of this store. No king, no emperor, no president, no congress has brought these goods and people into this emporium of necessities and delights.
Today some Americans, particularly the young, take this side of the American coin for granted. They don’t look at the grocery stores, the millions of different enterprises, the universities and public libraries, and all the rest of American culture, and see that everything in that culture is connected to liberty. Some of them call for socialism, some for communism, though the latter have probably never read a word of Karl Marx and have certainly never studied the bloody history of communism in dozens of countries.
Now as I write it is the Fourth of July. It is our American Independence Day, that day when one of history’s greatest experiments began. We have come a long way since that day, always working on the American Dream, always tinkering with what the meaning it means to be an American. To lose sight of that dream, whose watchword is liberty, is to lose sight of what America has meant to the world for centuries, what it means even today to those trying to cross our borders.
For many of us, today will be a celebration with families gathering together, cracking open some beers, cooking out in the back yard, and shooting off some fireworks.
Let me suggest you also visit a grocery store. Look around. What you see is liberty at work.
Here is a huge store bustling with customers, many of them buying last minute items for Independence Day. Here we is a supermarket where we can buy beer and wine from the United States, Germany, France, Holland, Argentina, Australia, and half a dozen other countries; where we can select oranges, watermelons, tomatoes, apples, and dozens of other fruits and vegetables; where we can buy everything from salmon to sardines, cookies to freshly baked cakes, hams and turkeys, frozen dinners of all sorts, dozens of different cheeses.
This is America.
This store and all its thousands and thousands of goods are a product of free enterprise, which in turn is a product of the liberty espoused by our forefathers in such documents as the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. The food and other goods found in this store dwarf the pantries of history’s kings and emperors. The edibles found in this store, produced by less than 10% of our population, represent a step for humankind that should boggle the imagination.
These products arrive in this store because men and women produce and manufacture them, and then ship them. The box of wine I purchase is the product of a thousand minds and hands. The cardboard box, the plastic containing the wine, the plastic spigot, the wine itself: all came together because of engineers, farm workers, manufacturers, truck drivers, and store managers.
This is America.
The store presents shoppers with thousands of choices. Those who eat healthy foods buy greens and vegetables, lean meats and fruits; those who pay less attention to their diet carry home frozen dinners and potato chips, sugared cereals and candies. Those who looking for drinks can find an entire aisle stocked with colas, spritzers, and juices; those looking for alcoholic beverages can select from hundreds of wines and a refrigerated cave filled with beers from around the world. Those wanting fresh backed pies and bread visit the bakers; those wanting sushi go to the deli.
This is America.
Compared to any other generation before us, the great majority of Americans live like kings. Even the poor among us can buy good food, own various electronic devices, and drive cars.
We became kings by first getting rid of a king. Two hundred and forty-two years ago, a group of men meeting in Philadelphia declared that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness,” vowing to support this idea with “our Lives, Our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.”
This grocery store exists because of liberty and the pursuit of happiness, that is, men and women pursuing different goals and doing the work that every day brings together the food, employees, and customers of this store. No king, no emperor, no president, no congress has brought these goods and people into this emporium of necessities and delights.
Today some Americans, particularly the young, take this side of the American coin for granted. They don’t look at the grocery stores, the millions of different enterprises, the universities and public libraries, and all the rest of American culture, and see that everything in that culture is connected to liberty. Some of them call for socialism, some for communism, though the latter have probably never read a word of Karl Marx and have certainly never studied the bloody history of communism in dozens of countries.
Now as I write it is the Fourth of July. It is our American Independence Day, that day when one of history’s greatest experiments began. We have come a long way since that day, always working on the American Dream, always tinkering with what the meaning it means to be an American. To lose sight of that dream, whose watchword is liberty, is to lose sight of what America has meant to the world for centuries, what it means even today to those trying to cross our borders.
For many of us, today will be a celebration with families gathering together, cracking open some beers, cooking out in the back yard, and shooting off some fireworks.
Let me suggest you also visit a grocery store. Look around. What you see is liberty at work.
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