I am a Native American. No. I am not Cherokee. Apache? Nope. But close. I am a Navajo. We live in Northeastern Arizona, by the 4 Corners area, where Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado meet. The reason I am typing this essay is because I have recently been informed by my U.S. History teacher that I, a FULL blooded NATIVE AMERICAN, am an immigrant. Don’t worry, I almost fell out of my seat from shock, then choked to death by laughter. The idea of Native Americans being immigrants was hysterical. When a child is asked “Who were the first people in America?” they answer “Christopher Columbus”. Kid, Columbo is not a people and Thor is most likely who 1st landed on America, but didn’t document it because he’s all brawn and no brains. Try again.
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The simple answer: they didn’t know how to swim. It would be difficult – and not to mention deadly due to the hypothermia water – to swim back to Asia. However, before the continual drift, natives cross to the New Land so they could follow the animals and establish a home to raise families. That was the dream. To find land, rich with soil, to start a community, so generations after generation could produce million more generations. Our focus was not gold or riches. It was family. Tradition. Culture. We wanted as much land to ensure our future’s happiness. Land to make our own stories and history. Instead of reading from history books or looking online, we wanted to take an adventure – maybe even with Navajo Gandalf – to physically show young children what their ancestors have created. What they built with their hands. To show them once their fathers and mothers have passed on, the land was theirs to protect. To nurture. To cultivate and shape like a sculptor would do to his or her master piece. To care. To love. I guess you could call us the first tree …show more content…
Nothing in life is easy. Especially getting rich – well, unless you win the lottery – it take hard work and dedication (but mostly just patience and luck). I guess it all starts with one’s own defining of rich. One way could literally mean rich. Like wiping your tushy with Benjamin Franklin’s face rich. Another could be the sentimental ‘unicorn and rainbows’ rich, where everyone is on cloud nine 24/7. My definition of rich is having EVERYTHING I have ever wanted in life and live without having to leave my room to pay bills. Will America give you all the money in the world without a little effort? No. Will America keep you high on some type of plant? Yes. But. You will mostly fall over and crook before you have time to write about your crazy, super awesome adventures in La-La-whatever Land. America is a country that will make or break you. You can be at the bottom of the barrel with no one to show you any compassion. Or you can be at the top of the Empire State building with enough money to feed the entire continent of India plus Africa. The only question standing between you and your happiness is: What is your American
The simple answer: they didn’t know how to swim. It would be difficult – and not to mention deadly due to the hypothermia water – to swim back to Asia. However, before the continual drift, natives cross to the New Land so they could follow the animals and establish a home to raise families. That was the dream. To find land, rich with soil, to start a community, so generations after generation could produce million more generations. Our focus was not gold or riches. It was family. Tradition. Culture. We wanted as much land to ensure our future’s happiness. Land to make our own stories and history. Instead of reading from history books or looking online, we wanted to take an adventure – maybe even with Navajo Gandalf – to physically show young children what their ancestors have created. What they built with their hands. To show them once their fathers and mothers have passed on, the land was theirs to protect. To nurture. To cultivate and shape like a sculptor would do to his or her master piece. To care. To love. I guess you could call us the first tree …show more content…
Nothing in life is easy. Especially getting rich – well, unless you win the lottery – it take hard work and dedication (but mostly just patience and luck). I guess it all starts with one’s own defining of rich. One way could literally mean rich. Like wiping your tushy with Benjamin Franklin’s face rich. Another could be the sentimental ‘unicorn and rainbows’ rich, where everyone is on cloud nine 24/7. My definition of rich is having EVERYTHING I have ever wanted in life and live without having to leave my room to pay bills. Will America give you all the money in the world without a little effort? No. Will America keep you high on some type of plant? Yes. But. You will mostly fall over and crook before you have time to write about your crazy, super awesome adventures in La-La-whatever Land. America is a country that will make or break you. You can be at the bottom of the barrel with no one to show you any compassion. Or you can be at the top of the Empire State building with enough money to feed the entire continent of India plus Africa. The only question standing between you and your happiness is: What is your American