Cultured

Caution: quasi-philisophical post ahead. Read on at your own peril.

America has its own unique culture, even though the country itself is only a few centuries old (a young lad, he is!). In the 1900s, each decade had its own identity, something that sets apart the '20s from the '50s and '90s and so forth (and the aughties? I think not. I'll still call the past decade the 0s, pronounced the "Oh"s, thankyouverymuch). Each generation has their own worldly experiences that seem completely alien to their children. Each generation also has the option to pass down their culture to the next, whether it be in old records, ancient scrapbooks, or musty books that were the Harry Potters and Redwalls of their childhood (hey, I like those books!).

Because America is also known as a "melting pot" of all the different immigrants who've arrived here, there are also cultures from all around the world mingling here, in this common land of freedom.

I started out this post wanting to rant about how the Cultural Revolution of China has left me little for learning about my parent's cultures, but I see now how wrong I would be if I decided to complain about that. I remember the ancient days of Greece and Rome, where songs and tales (both epic and ordinary) were spread by songs, or storytellers, not books and other tangible things. Cultures and customs stayed alive because the next generations remembered the tales of old, and honored those memories.

Because, those who don't know their history are doomed to repeat it. History repeats itself. There is nothing new under the sun. We have to learn about the past in order to not repeat its mistakes.

And our parents, no matter how annoying they may seem to be at times, each have their own unique stories to tell. If only you ask.