E Pluribus Unum, To The N(ew)th Degree

I am so proud to be an American today. And humbled, too. Despite whatever little minor annoyances--mini crises such as outrageous fees, the ongoing BCS quagmire, or questionable TV programming decisions that all serve as a series of slaps in the face to one's belief--time and again something occurs in this great country that restores my unswerving faith not only in America's great promise, but in its earthy reality too. The latest case-in-point patriotic pick-me-up is the picture above (see more nation-affirming shots here, along with the story) and the accompanying story about a small group of dedicated, got-involved women at New York University who not only made the courageous, non-conformist choice to join the NYU Republican Club right in the heart of liberal America's spleen (Greenwich Village), and not only were creative and fun-loving enough to organize a "Newt Gingrich Sleepover" (and kind enough to snap & share the photos), but also took the time and energy to consider and don such sartorial splendor.

Now it's true that Newt Gingrich isn't my particular spoonful of political patent medicine, and it's true that in theory I bristle at the thought of girl sleepovers, having endured mid-70s middle school ones hosted by my older sisters (it takes decades and professional counseling to rid the mind of Bobby Sherman tunes) and, as a short-strawed chaperone, turn-of-the-millennium high school ones (where the big attractions seemed to be Adam Sandler DVDs and lots of munchies), the Real American in me wholly salutes these co-eds' dedication. While I'm not exactly sure what one might do at a Newt Gingrich Sleepover (though I imagine it might be quite natural to divide into three teams--Team Jackie, Team Marianne, and Team Callista--and play the Contract With America board game), and I would imagine that after seeing these pictures Newt himself wished he had put in a personal meet and greet appreance, really, it's none of my business, because what really matters is that these young women took the initiative to get involved (what says I'm involved more than forming a human pyramid?) and take an active part in the ever-unfolding story of American Democracy. No matter your particular political stripes, your sleepware preferences, the decor of your slumber party rumpus room, you should--if you call yourself an American--be proud and admiring of these young women, as I am. I always cringe when I hear someone wrap up a long-winded, pious speech with the line, "And that's what America's all about." America is not all about one thing. America is everything and anything, all the time: EPU, baby, out of many, one. So while I have absolutely nothing superficially in common with these Slumber for Newt women (the one at the back right in the photo above is supposedly Nixon's granddaughter-in-law, or something), I know that at the root, we are Americans--they and I. We will never wear the same t-shirts, but this summer we will both weep with pride when some underdog American with a troubled past stands on the highest podium in our Mother Country England and listens to the "Star-Spangled Banner" after winning Olympic Gold. And we will never punch out chads for the same candidates, but by God, if the infidels, the Marxists, or even the Trinidadians and Tobagonians dare step foot in this country with the intent to take us and our EPU lifestyle over, we will stand together as one. America contains multitudes, by God and thank God, and at the moment nothing makes this grand and glorious fact more clear to me than these women: Melville, and I'm sure Nixon, would be proud.

But then, in true American spirit, there's a voice of dissent. My less philosophic side (read cynical) screams, "It's been two days since I saw these pictures and read this story and I haven't slept since. Enough already! Just hold the election today and get it over with." To which there's only one response: Forget it Jake, it's America.