In honor of Canadian Thanksgiving today, I feel compelled to divulge that I am on the precipice of a life-altering decision: to be or not to be. American, that is.I was born Canadian and always resolved to die Canadian. Until I married an American and gave birth to two half-breeds. My permanent residency expires early next year and some major decisions need to be made. Namely: do I forsake The Motherland and all that is holy?
Or at least that which is really, really cold.
I love this country and will likely live here the rest of my life. As a wee Calgarian lassie, we learned about
I resolved then and there I would live in Denver someday. Prophetic little Canuck, wasn't I?
So, the question remains:
do I renew? Or do I convert?
Admittedly, after the mudslinging-that-has-been-this-election-season, the novelty of becoming politically active has worn off. And somehow, I don’t think participating on CBS’s The Amazing Race (where an American passport is required) is a very worthy reason.
Though make no mistake: I would have kicked some serious butt. Or at least been very entertaining as I landed on mine.
What it really comes down to I just can’t forsake my roots even though this ol’ trunk is planted firmly on American soil. Nor do I want to face the humiliation of flunking the citizenship exam. (You are, after all, talking to the woman who argued in college that Abraham Lincoln was indeed a founding father.)
During a recent trip to Boston, my loving, supportive and utterly devoted husband and I talked about my options, during which time he offered this:
“Amber, if you are deported… [choose the correct answer]
1) I’ll cry myself to sleep every night.
2) I will make out with The Great Pumpkin while you are gone.
3) I will not be able to survive one moment without you.
4) You WILL take the children with you back to Canada.”
You don’t want to know the real answer.
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