Would Sarah Palin and John McCain believe that the most "Pro-America" American would be an 83-year-old Mexican immigrant who has survived malaria, skin cancer, AND West Nile Virus?
Probably not.
But at Thanksgiving dinner this year, after a discussion about religious intolerance contributing to negativity in the campaign, my grandfather pulled me aside and told me this story from fifty years ago, just after he'd immigrated here from Mexico. He is a U.S. citizen (and lifelong Democrat), and very proud of it.
Like most Mexicans, my grandfather was Catholic when he came to the U.S., but he explored the many options available to him after arriving. A humble, hard-working man, my grandfather learned English quickly, in addition to French, German, Italian, and a little Portuguese. He even taught Spanish at a community college. He conversed easily with friends and neighbors, but some in his Chicago neighborhood were unhappy with immigrants in general, and treated them terribly as a result.
One afternoon, my grandfather was conversing with one such neighbor in his yard, when my uncle, then a toddler (and an animal-lover if you ever met one), came out of the house carrying a book about dinosaurs and evolution.
The neighbor, a Baptist, yelled at my grandfather, "That book is filth! It belongs in the garbage!"
My grandfather, never one to spend money carelessly, replied, "No it does not, it's a good book and it was a gift."
"It goes against everything in the Bible," the neighbor argued. "The Bible is sacred."
My grandfather looked the neighbor in the eye. "Do you know what the most sacred book in the world is?"
The neighbor said "the Bible."
"No," my grandfather replied. "It's the United States Constitution, which says in this country, I can practice whatever religion I want free of persecution. And I will call anyone who says otherwise a traitor."
The neighbor was stunned speechless, but it became clear soon after that he would look for other opportunities to put my grandfather down.
Assuming my grandfather's English was broken, simply because he had an accent, a few weeks later, when my grandfather left his house, the neighbor asked him, "Hey, do you know what a cadaver is?"
"Yes, and I'm far to young to be one," my grandfather replied, and went about his business.
A few weeks later, the man again quizzed my grandfather in the yard. "Do you know what ambidextrous is?"
"Yes," my grandfather replied, "It's being equally capable with both hands. Let me ask you this, though," he said to the rude neighbor. "Do you know what a lexiphanic sesquipedalien is?"
The neighbor stared bewildered at my grandfather. "No."
"Perhaps if you studied English as hard as I have, you'd know." And my grandfather left the neighbor in his yard. (A lexiphanic sesquipedelien is someone who uses "foot and a half long" words to boast their vocabulary).
Years later, the neighbor would apologize to my grandfather for his attempts to undermine him and put him down.
"I don't know why, but when people assumed I was uneducated because of my background, I always had to have the last word," my grandfather told me.
I hope this story made you smile. It made me very proud of my very pro-American grandfather. :)