What to Tell Your Kids About America

A Parent’s Guide to Patriotism

The 4th of July is a good time to talk about parenthood and patriotism, or more specifically, to share my sure-fire secrets for raising great Americans.

I made plenty of mistakes as Dad, but there is one thing I did right. I’ve given my kids the United States of America, which is, my countrymen, no small gift.

Talking to kids about patriotism is tricky, especially if you’re a white man who has had every opportunity our republic affords. If you’ve had some grace shed on thee, it’s easy to sound like a guy who’s mistaken his own good fortune for a society as generous as the one we’d planned. But I think I’ve figured out how to make the kids appreciate their country.

The O’Neill Plan for Raising Patriots proceeds from the following mission statement: to find a deep patriotism, a belief in our country that both accepts our sins and savors the durable importance of the enterprise. The O’Neill Plan seeks a purple patriotism, a compromise between the red meat of “My country, right or wrong” and the blue tofu of “We’re obliged to distrust power.” Neither makes sense. It’s as foolish to support our country no matter what, as it is to believe there is nothing singular about us. Full disclosure: I don’t think my plan tilts toward either hue, but both of my now-grown kids turned out to be deep blue. So, if you’re red-blooded, proceed at your own risk.

“It’s as foolish to support our country no matter what, as it is to believe there is nothing singular about us.”

The biggest challenge in my approach is figuring out when to address the bad stuff: the genocide and slavery at our roots. I don’t have a straightforward suggestion. This is a toughie. You’ll need some feel here, Dad. Maybe refer to it in passing early on, add some of the harsh details come grade school, and explain it fully once they’re middle-schoolers. But the underlying strategy is to confess our sins and yet be hopeful, even confident, that we’ll do better tomorrow.

The secret? Sell the stage, not the show.

If you try to explain particular events most likely the kids will get confused. (“Hey, kids, the Viet Cong were either a proto-populist anti-colonialist liberation army or ….well, never mind”) So, instead, just give them a taste for our geography, for all the space out there where they might do something, anything, maybe even everything. Kids need a sense of possibility as much as they need mother’s milk, and the sea-to-shining-seaness of this country can be an empowering promise.

“… give them a taste for our geography, for all the space out there where they might do something, anything, maybe even everything.”

Step One

When the kids are very small, buy them one of those wooden USA jigsaw puzzles, in which they will, I promise, have absolutely zero interest. Doesn’t matter. Whenever you get the chance, point out Ohio or tiny Rhode Island or Texas, ‘the big fat state at the bottom.’ Their apathy is irrelevant. Your message — that this frontier is available to them — will insinuate its way into their mushy little brains. Don’t under any circumstances be deterred by their mother, who may claim — and I quote — that you’re `browbeating the kids’ with images of Kansas, golden with grain.

Step Two

When the kids are a little older, pop for a topographical map as well. Let them feel the Sierra Nevada, the Black Hills, the Appalachian range, the mountains that have shaped the tribes, contained eccentric dreams. Whenever possible link each state with its terrain or produce — Wyoming with those peaks, Indiana with basketball, Idaho with its spuds, Mississippi with its blues. Get like Whitman or Springsteen. Sell the molten steel/rolling hills catalog, the thousand forums for self-invention. The ambition is to give them the juice of America, without simplifying its history. By the time they’re 10 or 11, don’t shrink from the violence of Jim Crow. That’s a big part of our story.

Step Three

Offer your children money to memorize every state capital. Ignore their mother’s whining that they should `learn for learning’s sake.’ Mastering this list will be a great long-term asset to your child. It’s worth $25. Trust me. There is something deeply empowering to a kid if he knows that Carson City is the capital of Nevada. Somehow, he comes to care about Nevada. You can’t be an American unless you care about Nevada and Florida and Maine. Nobody who grew up knowing all the state capitals has ever become society’s problem.

Step Four

Offer them money to memorize both the Preamble to the Constitution and the Gettysburg address. These are magical pieces of writing. If they have a niche in your children’s brains, our country is well served, and the kids will always feel as though they have a home. More important, their chances of going to college double.

Step Five

Don’t worry that your patriotic propaganda is wasted on them. Or if your wife claims that you’re actually making them hate America with ‘all your pop quizzes on the leading products of Wisconsin.’ Your message will make its way into their hearts.

How do I know?

We were on a family visit to Washington D.C. It was the first warm night of spring, and the Jefferson Memorial beckoned ahead, glowing like a hearth through the darkness. The kids bolted, as though summoned, ahead, up the great steps and into the graceful round vault. When my wife and I reached the steps, we saw our 9-year-old son, standing, a marine at ease, — feet spread, spine straight, hands clasped behind him — gazing up at the words carved in stone. As we approached we heard him reading — no, declaiming — Jefferson’s words out loud:

“I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility to every form of tyranny over the mind of man.”

Something told the boy that these words were somehow different than `Horton Hears A Who.’ Could it have been the public relations campaign orchestrated by his Dad? Meanwhile, his little sister, enlivened as well by this pristine Stonehenge, chased her mother around the statue of Jefferson. The wind sifted, as though a breath, through the columns and around the circle of stone. Part cave, part cathedral, this was the source of the legend.

Step Six

When the kids get to middle school, make sure they understand that Jefferson was both a great writer and a slaveowner, that ideals are one thing, but that real freedom is greatly rare. Tell the kids to be thankful, not proud, that they’re Americans. Tell them that American patriotism is not mere love of country, but suspicion of the guy in charge, and a durable prejudice in favor of the guy with no juice, the fellow whose only connections are to his faith, his patch and his people. Tell them that American patriotism doesn’t chant angrily — it sings softly. Tell them that American patriotism isn’t loud, but vigilant and humble. Tell them that even if we’re ashamed of some of our actions, we can take pride in what we hope for. Our ambitions are worth honoring.

“Tell the kids to be thankful, not proud, that they’re Americans. Tell them that American patriotism doesn’t chant angrily — it sings softly. Tell them that American patriotism isn’t loud, but vigilant and humble.”

Tell the kids that for all our crimes of racism, industrial rapaciousness and mere muscle, despite the regularity with which the little guy takes it in the neck, this land — from California to the New York island — remains a possibility; we still have a chance. Tell them that though we’ve fallen short of liberty and justice for all, this is a work in progress, that you’re full of hope because their generation has yet to summon its attention and its big heart on behalf of the dream.

Happy birthday, U.S.A.!

This piece originally appeared in Men’s Health Magazine.