Skip to main content

An American

In this episode - An American . . .

"We will lead not merely by the example of our power but by the power of our example." U.S. President, Joe Biden


Are you an American? Unlike many of you, my mother and I immigrated to the United States as French Citizens.

We were considered Aliens! How do I know that? Easy, every year we were required to go to our local Post Office and complete an Alien Registration Form.


Growing up in a small Midwestern town, like you, my formative school years were devoted to reading, writing, and arithmetic AND learning to speak English. Also, I vividly remember each morning reciting; "I Pledge of Allegiance to the United States of America . . ."


As a Cub Scout, we also recited the scout motto; "A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent."


Little did I realize at that time how those time-honored words and traditions would affect my work ethic, my character, my values, and my future.

As an immigrant, the pure joy of growing up in a free country allowed its people to become whatever they set their hearts and minds upon.

We witnessed America's birth of the Space Program, the explosion of technology that advanced communications, watched men walk on the Moon, the expansion of Television that brought the world into our homes. In many ways, it didn't seem real. It all seemed fabricated somehow. All viewed from a wooden box with a black tube.

I've always wondered, do children ever grasp the concept of what's real on TV and what's fabricated? Who knows?

All I know is, our community affected my childhood development much more than I realized during my formative years. I was becoming an American.

But for my family, there was another world outside that tiny neighborhood. The much larger world of La Rochelle, France, my mothers' town. That "other world" was proven when I uncovered the bundles of French handwritten letters my mother had treasured and kept to herself all those years.

As children, we would board a very large plane and make the trip back to France about every 5 years. Mom insisted on it. Dad however never returned to France after his military service ended.

We would step off the plane into the arms of her brother and his wife. To see her blossom and be free of that alien mask was an awakening for me. Unlike me or any other in our immediate family, her formative years were as a French citizen. 

However, it was 1974 when my mother and I both stood before a Judge and accepted the Oath of Citizenship to finally say, "We are Americans."

So, what did it mean to become an American?

Looking back now, it was an opportunity that no other country offers, the freedom to reinvent oneself whenever the need arose, and the security of living in a democracy that values the will of the people.

God bless America!

If you like our weekly visits, please share them with a friend.


I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

The Gopher Problem and the High Powered Solution

Vacationing in Maine this week, just a short drive down the coast from Freeport, it is hard not to think about the outsized impact one frustrated outdoorsman had on the gear we all use today. Bad equipment can ruin a perfectly good day on the water or the trail, but it takes a special kind of vision to turn cold feet into a century-old empire. This is the story of the company we now know as L.L.Bean, but more importantly, it is a masterclass in integrity, learning from failure, and standing behind your work. In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean faced a persistent problem: returning from expeditions in the Maine woods with cold, wet feet. Instead of complaining, he got creative. He had a local shoemaker stitch waterproof rubber soles onto the flexible leather uppers of a hunting boot. He called it the Maine Hunting Shoe and mailed a flyer promising perfect satisfaction. Then reality arrived. Ninety of his first 100 pairs failed when the rubber separated from the leather. Not an effective product...

On Becoming Real

Some things get better with wear: old shoes, old friendships, and old books. Especially old books. A new volume arrives with crisp corners and a spine that hasn’t yet learned to bend. An old one has been somewhere. It has traveled through time in the hands of people who may no longer be around to tell us what they found inside. The copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (first published in 1922) on my desk is one of those books. My friend Don Hanley gave it to me. This late-1950s Doubleday edition features William Nicholson’s original illustrations and cream paper boards softened by age. Worn corners, a split spine, and colored tabs mark passages worth revisiting. Don didn’t hand me a keepsake. He gave me homework. When we talked about the book recently, he pointed me straight to the nursery conversation between a young rabbit and an old Skin Horse. The rabbit had noticed the mechanical toys around him—the ones with internal gears, bright paint, and stick-out handles that seem terribly impressiv...

A Dog, a Beer . . . and the Ghost of 1912

Whenever you step into an American cathedral of our National Pastime built before modern ergonomics, municipal zoning, or crowd-flow dynamics, an unspoken understanding forms, creating a welcoming, timeless atmosphere. You trade legroom, sensible corridors, and personal space for the privilege of communing with ghosts. Last week, Lori and I made our pilgrimage to Fenway Park to watch our Chicago Cubs take on the Boston Red Sox (a taut 0–2 contest that felt spiritually tied to their 1918 World Series meeting). Staying just across the Charles River at the Courtyard Marriott in Cambridge gave us one immeasurable tactical advantage: we walked. While the automotive gridlock around Kenmore Square took on the character of the Siege of Yorktown—horns echoing across the asphalt like musket fire—we simply strolled across the Boston University Bridge, enjoying the river breeze and feeling smugly superior to everyone trapped behind a steering wheel. Fenway, built in the spring of 1912, holds rough...

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️  In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...