It was July 1976. I had been on a student exchange with AFS (American Field Service) in Breckenridge, Minnesota for almost exactly one year. All across the United States people in large cities, in towns, and small rural communities were celebrating the American bi-centenary. And it was no different in Breckenridge. They dressed in period costume. They sang, they danced, and dignitaries made speeches.
Square dancing, July 4th, 1976
Speeches, singing, celebrations, July 4th, 1976
Back in January that year, when the blizzards struck with a wind as noisy as the Pacific Ocean, and a cold that could and did kill the unwary, it seemed as if summer would never return. And now here it was, mid-summer already and the Fourth of July. It was hot, prairie hot. If you’ve been on the prairie in mid-summer, you’ll know what I mean. There’s no relief from the summer sun. Even the breeze seemed to sizzle.
But no-one wilted, or so it seemed to me that day. I wandered through the crowds, many of whom I knew. I tried to soak it all in, to make memories that I suspected might have to last a life time.
And I felt weirdly out of step. The celebrations weren’t mine. Oh, I could join in, appreciate the sincerity of the sentiments, the scale of the human effort, the sheer bloody mindedness, often, and the hope that had lead to what was now the United States of America. I knew there was a darker side to the story, by then I had read Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, but it wasn’t the day to be dwelling on that.
It was other more personal matters that cast me once again as an outsider. The next day was my departure day. I had to begin the long journey home.
My host mother, who at that point in time hadn’t seen the ocean, did what she could to help. And what better than to send me on my way with an American Quilt. A Bicentennial American Quilt. She invited friends and neighbours to help with the tying.
Friends and neighbours working on my American Bicentennial Quilt.
Friends and neighbours helping to tie the quilt.
I left the day after Independence Day.
Waiting for the bus: Some of my friends – exchange students, from Spain, Germany, Greece, Italy and the UK, who spent the year in Minnesota.
At the bus stop with my host family – a photo of me that still makes my husband laugh!
Just after these photos were taken my brave face crumpled and the tears started. They took a long time to stop. It was thirty years before I saw my host family again. By then my host father was gone.
I didn’t go straight home. AFS took us on another bus trip. This time we stopped often, we met other families, AFSers, and we saw more of the country.
In Washington DC I visited the Smithsonian where I saw an actual spaceship suspended in the air! Remember it was only seven years since the first lunar landing.
At the Lincoln memorial I got goosebumps looking up at that giant statue of the great man.
I visited Capitol Hill where I stared and stared at the Magna Carta. The document, an agreement between King John of England and his very unhappy barons, records the first steps towards modern democracy. It was on temporary loan to the US Government from Queen Elizabeth II to mark the bicentenary. It was, and still is the oldest document I’ve seen.
And then, there was this:
Yes, I stood on that most famous of lawns
This I will never forget. Every AFSer that year, gathered on the lawn of the White House. President Ford addressed us. He charged us to build on our experiences. He told us we, and organisations like AFS, represented the hope for the future.
Later, I was checking my luggage at the airport. I was wearing my yellow pant suit, you might remember the one. To me, it represents irrevocable change. And, I was looking forward to home. The girl next to me in the queue, short like me, an AFS student like me, but for her English was a second language, was crying. I tried to cheer her up, remarking that soon we would both be home.
In a few short sentences she told me that home for her, was not like home for me. There was trouble in her country. The government had been overthrown. Her family were not doing well under the new regime. There was a lot of anti – American sentiment, now. And no democracy. For her, there would be none of those basic human rights which the Magna Carta spoke of, that the bi-centenary celebrated, that I took for granted.
She was worried her return would make things more difficult for her family. She was scared. I said we could always write.
She said that wouldn’t be possible.
I’ve never heard from her.
Categories: AFS
Jill's Scene 
Hi Jill.. just came across your post. I stayed in contact with just one person from our bus trip in 1976 from Indiana to Washington D.C. Then a fortnight ago there was an email.. someone else had ‘found’ me in the quest to reconnect to everybody from our bus trip. Intensive research has been happening.. and we are now at 28 of the 40 and hoping for a reunion next year.
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How absolutely wonderful, Philippa.
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That quilt was a wonderful gift! I am so glad your host family was so thoughtful. I was in DC at that same time, saw that Magna Carta on display and never forgot it.
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Hello Autism Mom. Nice to see you here, again.The quilt was an incredibly thoughtful gift – the patterned squares matched the wall paper in the bedroom I shared with my host sister. As for the Magna Carta – I still get goosebumps when I think back to that day. I read somewhere that the display cabinet is still in place at the Capitol.
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Wonderful post Jill and great photos. Travel is so important to our growth as humans, yet until I read your last lines, it had never really thought about the idea that “going home” could be anything but easy and joyful.
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Hi Su, It was very tough to realise that what had started out as an opportunity ended up being potentially dangerous for her and her family.
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Yes; life is so fragile and change can come so quickly. I know you must have spent years hoping she was/is ok. Now I find myself thinking the same. 🙂
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And I am another with a son in Auckland. 🙂 I felt quite tearful seeing the photos of the quilt being tied for you; what a special gift. And, yes, I have people, too, I wonder about. We are so very lucky to have our freedom.
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Hello Gallivanta, For me the photos of the quilt tying get more powerful with each year.
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🙂
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Great memories, well told Jill. I think it should be mandatory for all to travel to other countries and get to know other nationalities. But of course so many in the world do not have the privileges of democracy and freedom to travel that we do.
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Hi Pauline, Sadly, Freedom, a basic human right is a privilege and one that it’s critical not to take for granted.
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I agree
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I read this in my email yesterday and I was oping that you just posted it a bit too soon. Great story and I am glad that you were here for that celebration. I love the picture on the White House Lawn – good luck getting close to that again 😦 thanks for sharing our celebration.
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Hi Dan, Thanks for taking the time to check out this version of my post. Turns out that preparing a post in the wee small hours of the morning isn’t such a smart move. I hit the publish button instead of the save button – doh. And, yes, standing on The White House lawn was a rare opportunity, indeed, and even more so these days.
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It’s great to read your memories and on such an auspicious day. Great post!
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Thanks, Debbie.
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Excellent post! A beautiful homage to this country of the U.S.A. Thanks so much, Jill! 🙂
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Thank-you, Fabio. The learnings from that year continue to reverberate through my life.
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Jill, I can hear you. Three of my siblings had similar experiences in the U.S., and from their experience I was influenced to bring my family first to Canada, and then, with the decisive help of my wife, to the States. The path has opened the world to our children. Dave, our second child, is a doctor in Auckland. Thanks so much for sharing your rich experience with all of us! Take care! 🙂
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Auckland! Son number two, Ben, has returned from his travels this week and will be living there.
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The world is getting smaller… 🙂 Good luck for Ben in Auckland!
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Thanks!
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