i've lived in self-imposed exile since i fled my bitterly cold northern home at 17, living as a cynical canadian among americans. i've managed a kind of jaundiced distance from the idiocies of american politics for much of the time, thinking of myself as more enlightened 'world citizen' instead of 'provincial patriot'. (do you hear the subtle sneer? i'm sorry.)
however, on nov 4, 2000, i stayed up several hours into the early morning of the 5th until it became completely clear that there would be no immediate resolution to the bush-gore race. i went to bed and elbowed my sleeping spouse awake to say, 'when my parents are gone, i'm going to re-open my citizenship file so i can vote in this mess.'
my dad died several years later at 91; my mom lasted until last november when she died at 99 1/2. i got my american passport last june.
i had no idea how that would change things.
i had all but given up hoping that my documentation would be accepted by the passport office as it was weeks past when my lawyer expected we'd hear from them. i'd also begun working at citizenship from the other direction avaiable to me, the route to citizenship by being a green card holder married to an american, a much slower process.
we were out working in our yard when the mail came. my spouse looked through the bundle briefly, mostly ads. then he slit open an envelope at the bottom of the stack and casually handed me my passport; i sat down suddenly.
at that moment, legs buckled and holding that stiff little booklet, i realized what a long, strange trip it's been.
i finally have a voice.
sure, i've been vocal in many arenas; i'm an opinionated person and have had public roles.
but, this is different. now, instead of that jaundiced distance from current american events and issues, they are my current events and issues. i don't just pass along petitions to my spouse, i sign them, adding intense comments, probably far more intense because of being caged so long.
when hell broke loose in ferguson we were back in east africa but when the internet was up, i was nailed to it. suddenly, these are my people who are being shot, racially profiled, teargassed and harassed.
i wanted to be there for us, throwing my arms around beaten bodies, expressing my milk into eyes blinded with teargas, screaming my outrage in the hideous din of the sound cannons and flash-bang grenades.
keeping a distance, jaundiced or not, is no longer even possible; 'you americans' are now 'we americans'. i'm still trying to figure out what this means and what kind of a claim it will lay on my life from here on out.
in our 36 years of marriage we've been fortunate to have spent over 5 years at 2 different times volunteering in sub-saharan africa. that has now ground painfully to a halt because of health issues and we are unexpectedly back in the US to stay.
i wonder what will open up for us as i make this shocking shift from a 'world citizen' to a humbler yet unabashed 'provincial patriot' realizing for the first time that 'all politics is local.'
i do know that going in to the early voting booth last week was a stunning event. after decades looking in from the outside, i now belong in this discourse and i have both the right and the responsibility to engage--even in red state idaho. will my vote matter? well, i may not make a bit of difference in the outcomes, but my vote matters a great deal to me.
i am thrilled.
why did i wait for all these years? and yet, maybe that's okay. with my parents' long-life genes, i may be able to do this for the next 3 1/2 decades.
i'm 59, and i just voted for the first time!