Not to be narcissistic or nuttin', but Obama's celebrated "we are..." riff at Selma, which widened the circle of national inclusion to encompass the Lost Boys of Sudan and (implicitly) undocumented immigrants crossing the Rio Grande, as well as "the Tuskeegee Airmen, Navajo code-talkers, and Japanese-Americans who fought for this country even as their own liberty had been denied," reminded me of a children's poem I wrote in the mid-nineties. It reflects a children's book canon (and a little extracurricular YA reading at the end) from the sixties and early seventies that perhaps Obama shared in part:
American Child
I've heard a lot of stories, I'm
from everywhere.
I'm Abe Lincoln splitting logs, one
swing for each,
Alone, speechifying the squirrels.
I'm a redbacked Hebrew slave,
gathering straw
Under a red Egyptian sun.
I'm the old slave Joe, head bending
low,
Crossing cottonfields, heading
home.
I'm an Indian girl, gathering
berries,
