Tuesday, September 29. 2009
Commercial Power
My friends around the world don't understand me. Whether they are US American, Brazilian, Chinese or Japanese, or European, such as Italian, French or British, they all are proud of their countries. Not me. I have never been a nationalist, no pride whatsoever.
Even when I was little, I knew that it didn't agree with me when people were waving flags or playing a national anthem. I couldn't even tell you why. Of course, there is always the German Nazi past, but that's not the whole story. It's just not in my blood to be proud of blood.
But - isn't their always a "but"? - there was in fact one occasion, when I finally realised that I could do it, that I could be proud of the land I was born in.
It was in England, many years ago, when I was watching TV with some British friends of mine. In the commercial break we all, more or less attentive, watched a bobsleigh rushing through an icy rink. And when the bobsleigh had finished its round without losing track for a second, you could see that what had come to a stop directly in front of your eyes, wasn't a bob after all. It actually was a hoover, a very modern cylinder vacuum cleaner.
And into a silence, now that I could make out three quite familiar letters at the front of the hoover, a voice spoke voice over, and suddenly pride struck me like a bolt of lightning, when the voice firmly said: "Advanced Engineering Germany".
Even when I was little, I knew that it didn't agree with me when people were waving flags or playing a national anthem. I couldn't even tell you why. Of course, there is always the German Nazi past, but that's not the whole story. It's just not in my blood to be proud of blood.
But - isn't their always a "but"? - there was in fact one occasion, when I finally realised that I could do it, that I could be proud of the land I was born in.
It was in England, many years ago, when I was watching TV with some British friends of mine. In the commercial break we all, more or less attentive, watched a bobsleigh rushing through an icy rink. And when the bobsleigh had finished its round without losing track for a second, you could see that what had come to a stop directly in front of your eyes, wasn't a bob after all. It actually was a hoover, a very modern cylinder vacuum cleaner.
And into a silence, now that I could make out three quite familiar letters at the front of the hoover, a voice spoke voice over, and suddenly pride struck me like a bolt of lightning, when the voice firmly said: "Advanced Engineering Germany".
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