The Desperation and The Love
The United States is characterized by a deep sense of both desperation and a sort of freewheeling love
Last year, I was at the ticket counter of the Stockholm Arlanda Airport in Sweden. At one point, a man stepped up to speak with the ticket agent at a nearby counter.
He was late middle-aged, dressed in business casual, and fairly well-groomed. He set his backpack down at his feet and started pawing around in it - probably for a ticket or a passport. He did so with a certain restrained franticness. It was a franticness that, in my estimation, wasn't the result of, for example, being late for his flight. He just generally seemed harried and stressed out.
I'd perhaps not have taken notice of this, had it not happened in Stockholm Arlanda Airport. One can spend all day in Sweden without encountering someone acting frantic.
I thought to myself "I bet he's American". Sure enough, he stepped up and spoke with the ticket agent in English, with an American accent.
Someone I know, who's lived extensively in both Europe and the United States, once told me there's a sense of desperation among nearly everyone in the United States, even in wealthy neighborhoods. That's the desperation.
What about the love?
In mid-2022, I went to a gas station in Canton, Illinois. Canton is a small town that's exactly like every other small town near it in Central Illinois. It's flat, impeccable, and expansive.
The card processing machines were broken. The gas station clerks were friendly and apologetic, but didn't seem the least bit worried.
By the time I left the gas station, we'd all been treated to one man's (semi-sad, but he was upbeat about it) life's story...involving injury and unemployment, as I recall. The patrons - complete strangers - were chatting amicably amongst ourselves.
There's a particular kind of characteristically public, and characteristically freewheeling, love in the United States. Dollar store employees hugging each other before one of them goes on break. Tailgating. Dogs with their heads sticking out the car window.
One can feel them both upon arrival in The US: the desperation and the love.
Years ago, I read a description of friendships in the Nordics versus friendships in Russia. Apparently, friendships in Russia inevitably fall into a period of stormy tribulation, for some reason or another, before ultimately emerging as an unbreakable bond. Meanwhile, friendships in the Nordics have no such feature.
The author theorized that in Russia, where you don't have a safety net in life, your friend becomes your safety net. The crucible of tribulation cements the bond. In the Nordics, the government provides a safety net, so an auxiliary system is unnecessary.
I think the particular brand of freewheeling love in the United States is similarly compensatory. In this case, compensatory for the desperation.