Haven’t changed my mind re residing in the US permanently. Wanted to when I was young; still want to do it now when I’m not so young. Alas, I have no special skills, save for my writing and editing, but I doubt many would consider these of the same caliber as quantum physics or nuclear engineering. I should have disregarded “artistic” tendencies and gone for medicine or science. All in hindsight, as the saying goes, but that’s another page or post.
I’ve been wanting to send a letter to the White House, asking, pleading, appealing—why? But I haven’t, lest they view me as foolish, self-absorbed or petty. Who am I when there are so many momentous, urgent matters of concern—taxes, terrorism, the economy and job market, to name but a few.
Yet I need to share this letter that’s been twirling about in my head for so long. I’ve addressed it to the President, because I may as well go to the very top. Some may laugh, others may groan. And a few may understand and commiserate.
Dear Mr. President:
You’re likely to find me singing “The Star Spangled Banner”, “God Bless America” or “American the Beautiful” when I’m in your great country—with a hand to my heart as the free one wipes salty tears from cheeks and lips. I’m a proud American caught in a Canadian body. I’ve stood on Canadian soil, and on yours, and wished with all my heart to view, walk and live amidst that of which I/we sing: “O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties, Above the fruited plain! “
Since the age of five, I’ve desired to become an American, but I’ve never possessed the skills or qualifications to do so. I don’t boast a Ph.D, yet I’m wise, and certainly mature. I state this with sincere humility: I could bring much to the American table in terms of commitment and humility, honesty and hard work.
I would prove a true patriot, and my blood would flow red, white and blue.
Yes, there’s the issue of taking a job away from a United States citizen. I completely understand. But we might look at it this way: there are Americans moving to Canada. Couldn’t we simply do an exchange—allow me to “replace” one American body? I’m willing to work—diligently—and I’m not that proud that I wouldn’t accept labor others may frown upon or reject.
My plight is far from significant or crucial in comparison to the daily dealings the government has to contend with and resolve—yet, in this tiny “me” world it’s a true dilemma. How does one realize a lifelong dream: to reside on the land that God has shed His grace on?
Your people have the ability to make the great American dream a reality. Why can’t this Canadian realize her dream to become an American? Dreams are meant to be achieved, not to fade with time or frustration or surrender.
Thank you for this opportunity to express my thoughts. Should there be a way to open your doors and welcome me across that great threshold, you have my promise to be the best fellow American you’ve ever met.
And that, my friends, is the letter I would like to send, but likely never shall. While it is of supreme importance to me, sadly, it is of little consequence to anyone else.
Thank goodness for personal blogs.