What coming to, and living in, America can be like for immigrants. My parents chose Canada. There were some differences, but not many, not really. Perhaps much less patriotism, and that is always a good thing.
Today is more personal — and tangential.
Below is a little piece I wrote 25 years ago, a few years after my arrival in the US. I was reminded of it yesterday while reading an article in the NYT Magazine, An American in a Strange Land, by Jim Yardley who came back to the U.S. after years of work-related absence and realized he did not recognize his country. The article is direct and piercing. Also, depressing. Its alternative title could have been “Inching Toward Dystopia.” Or maybe “lurching” instead of “inching” toward a new, Hunger Games-like reality, soon to come to a suburb near you.
Reading the (much worth reading) comments there, I came upon the “displaced person” term applied to Yardley. The term has much significance for me, for many reasons, some of them more clear than others.
Apart from that, and maybe even more…
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