[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 17]
[Senate]
[Page 23980]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                         ADDITIONAL STATEMENTS

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                          LIFE AS AN AMERICAN

 Mr. DURBIN. Mr. President, I rise today to share with you and 
the rest of my colleagues the thoughts of one of my younger 
constituents, for I think they are noteworthy for their insight, their 
honesty and their prescience.
  Stephanie Kaplan, who lives in Highland Park, IL, is a junior at 
Highland Park High School. Stephanie recently submitted her writing to 
the Jewish Press in Omaha, NE, in response to their request for essays 
about patriotism. Out of all the responses that arrived at the 
newspaper, the editors deemed Stephanie's the best among them.
  Perhaps most remarkable is that this essay, in which Stephanie 
explains what life as an American means to her, was written in August, 
before Osama bin Laden became a household name and when the top news 
stories did not mention Afghanistan.
  Our enemies have attacked us for who we are and what we believe. The 
very freedoms we love inspire their hatred. As our freedoms are the 
source of this conflict, we cannot allow them to become its casualties.
  Stephanie's writing is a timely reminder of what it is we value and 
what it is we are defending.
  Her essay follows:

                   What Being an American Means to Me

                         (by Stephanie Kaplan)

       Ice cream for dinner. Sitting on the bleachers through a 
     muggy afternoon, cheering heartily for a favored team or 
     player. An early-morning walk, as the trees that line the 
     street wave their green leaves in the wind, scintillating 
     drops of dew falling down to join their brethren on the 
     glistening grass. Air conditioning with the twist of a knob.
       This is America!
       But luxuries, the majority of which can be purchased by 
     money, do not define what being an American means to me.
       Freedom. Yes, there are rules and regulations, a moral 
     code, and systems of punishment for those who infringe and 
     sever them. They are in place to protect the people, however, 
     and are not oppressing as some governments, which implement 
     so many restrictions that the citizens are suffocated by the 
     layers upon layers of laws.
       I can keep my lights on through the night, if I so wish. No 
     policies prohibit me from befriending a Jew, a Muslim, or a 
     person of color. And only my own predilections will rule my 
     summer afternoon activities, be it in-line pick-up hockey on 
     the basketball court down the street, or a lazy afternoon 
     perched before my computer, like a dog passing away the hours 
     chewing on rawhide.
       Being a United States resident, to me, translates into the 
     simple joy that I can ride my bike to the places that defined 
     my carefree youth, mainly the elementary school's playground. 
     And if I so wish, I'll stray from the paved trail and take 
     the long route, or cut across the grass.
       Most importantly, I possess no fear when being out alone. 
     For I feel safe, in this country, that I will not be a victim 
     of hostility based on any outward appearance. And I'd never 
     really noticed how wonderful and rare that is until I spent 
     three weeks on a teen tour with students from 21 different 
     countries.
       My best friend became a girl from Hong Kong, and, as we 
     were walking along one overcast afternoon, she stated, ``I 
     hate the Beijing government.'' Then, she added, ``If I said 
     that in Hong Kong, in a casual conversation, I might be okay. 
     But if I was in Beijing, I could get shot. That's why I like 
     America, it's free for opinions.''


       Never experiencing any sort of political oppression, it's 
     difficult for me to grasp what she must feel, or the fear of 
     a simple slip translating into death.
       And this country is not perfect.
       But as the anthem states, this is ``. . . the land of the 
     free.'' Sovereignty is a daily part of life. What may have 
     seemed like a burden--all the decisions one must make, and 
     the consequences that can only be blamed on an individual--
     now seems liberating.
       Existing in America means much to me, but the most poignant 
     example is that I can pray, out loud, in Hebrew, with the 
     shades drawn up and the door gaping, invitingly open.
       On the trip, while occupying a dorm room, I prayed every 
     morning, just as I do at home. The glaring difference was 
     that the people who passed by my open doorway were not all 
     Jewish. Openly, I expressed my faith and reinforced my 
     beliefs to myself, my dedication to the Hashem.
       How far we've traveled, in place, time, and pure 
     progression, since my grandmother hid below ground in 
     Germany, with but one dress, and could not even talk, let 
     alone pray aloud, for fear of SS men. And the advances since 
     my grandfather fought for survival in the same foreign 
     country, with outlandish limitations, are miraculous.
       Could, I wonder, either of them imagined a time in which 
     their granddaughter--yes, a family!--could be so audacious as 
     to flaunt her prayer?
       It's not the passing of years, though, but the changing of 
     countries that made it possible.
       America may never be able to be defined, as being American 
     means so many different things to millions of unique people. 
     For the country, when drawn, should not be its traditional 
     shape, as seen on a map, but as a 3-D shape, with as many 
     angles as it has citizens, for the people shape America as 
     much as the land.
       Being an American means choices, luxuries, decisions, 
     freedoms, and a feeling of not importance, but 
     responsibility, in illustrating the greatness of my country, 
     and endeavoring to uphold the lofty ideals of the founders of 
     this Nation, inhabitants who, like my grandparents, escaped 
     tyranny and a role of inferiority to pull freedom to their 
     chests and keep it there, chained 'til a death that does not 
     come prematurely due to discrimination.
       Being an American means I am an individual and have the 
     independence to be just that--an American, because I believe 
     in the country and the opportunity. While it may take a 
     little digging, opportunity is available; even if found, one 
     must clean off the dirt before pursuing it.
       I am a living, breathing, original American, and that I can 
     exist unscathed is what being a citizen of this realm is all 
     about. Existing as a member of this free country means, to 
     me, that if in 60 years my family can go from savoring every 
     drop of water to survive to having a house with a mezuzah on 
     each doorway, I can savor the prospects presented by freedom 
     and find a way to take it a step farther.
       After all, my door is always open.

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