Coca Cola’s Super Bowl ad celebrates America’s melting pot by having people sing “America the Beautiful” in several languages. It’s a lovely idea, although it won’t get me to drink a carbonated soda. What’s amazing is the folks who were offended by the ad. There were a few dozen showing up at the #boycottcoke hashtag at Twitter, but then they were outnumbered by people who either liked the ad or had a better reason to boycott Coke.
Victoria Wyatt summed up the kerfluffle well in a comment at Coca-Cola’s Facebook page.
I don't know what is funnier - the complainers who think we speak "American", the complainers who think "America the Beautiful" is our national anthem, or the complainers who do not have full command of the language they're demanding.
We should note that one of the languages used in the song is Pueblo, a Native American language.
"Voices that mingle" may be a beautiful thing (perhaps metaphorically), but the result will hardly be comprehensible. That is my point: E Pluribus Unum. "Out of many, ONE." The peoples of a nation must be able to understand what they are saying. Have you considered the possibility that a common language actually PROMOTES mutual understanding? There are many in America today who put their ethnic identities FIRST, who put their language and culture FIRST, dismissing the pull to assimilate (even minimally!) as racism or perhaps something even worse.
And so they planned their own great journey. For many, this was done in secret. Gathering money and resources, selling property, making connections against the wishes of their own government and hiding even from their own families and neighbors. When all was in readiness, these people made their move. They bribed some, hid from some. Many gave their lives in cold mountain passes or hot deserts. Some literally swam icy rivers or cut through barbed wire. Some felt their heart stop while a border guard scrutinized forged papers with an extra look, or made an extra phone call. And many were arrested, imprisoned and tortured for the audacity of their act.
Many enter this country with their papers in order, having desirable skills, sponsoring employers or friends and patience to wait for years and decades for approval. Others paid their way in blood and peril, walking in thirst and hunger to escape and find their chance. They live hidden lives, hiding in transit inside a dank shipping container or in the trackless desert. Once here, they fade into the unseen, overlooked spaces of this nation for the leftover taste of America.
Of the few who can become citizens, or the many who hide between the open places of our society, there are many languages. The language of their hearts, learned at their mothers' breast, expresses their deepest feelings and their heartfelt thoughts. In all of these many tongues, they all sing the same song: "God shed His grace on thee . . ."
I am inordinately proud that even today people will place their loyalty to a foreign nation that still offers them the illumination to a golden door. They swear of their own free will, and without reservation to abandon past ties and cleave to a new land. Their strange clothes, diverse foods and foreign words all speak of the compelling draw of this country in which I have been privileged to be born. Whatever they wear, eat or whatever words they use, their voices mingle with mine to sing of the beauty here. This one song is enough for all.