Independence Day

Yes, I know July 4^th was SO last week, but here is the first-ever GUEST POST from my /brilliant writer/deep thinker/fabulous husband—his perception on Independence Day from a British ex-pat. Enjoy!

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In 1776, America declared its Independence from Great Britain.  Enough, they decided, was enough, and no more would they drive on the left, eat kidneys or say Cor Blimey.  Two hundred and thirty years later, I experienced my first Independence Day in America.

I have been here nine months and on July 4^th I made my own decision to shrug off Britain's pervasive influence. I didn't do this consciously. It just happened whilst walking the dogs.

There was a police car trundling past me in the park.  It stopped ahead of me.  I see police cars all the time when I’m out with the hounds and I suspect they are stalking me.  I turn round and one silently slips away.  They slow down when they go past.  They are everywhere.  Perhaps I am doing something so illegal I warrant constant surveillance?  This apparent stalking has fuelled my feelings of “foreignness”.  This never happened in good old England, think I. 

England is a place where a man can walk his dogs without risking life on a chain gang.  I consider avoiding the police car.            

And then a thought strikes me.  I have been avoiding everything since I’ve been here, convinced that it will confuse or irritate me by its very un-Britishness.  I have been like a man, having sailed across the Atlantic, refusing to set ashore.  There comes a time when a decision has to be made.

A policewoman got out of the car with a bunch of temporary no-parking signs.  I consider briefly the possibility that she carries these signs as a permanent ruse, but decide against it.  She looks exasperated, as any highly trained professional would look if asked to knock a hundred temporary no-parking signs into the grass verge.  It is time to stop feeling like I’m being stalked by the agents of a foreign power.  It is time to take action.

I wander over to the police car.  “Hello,” I say to her.

“Hello Sir,” she says.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she says.

“I’m English,” I begin.

“No kidding,” she says, “And I guess now you are going to tell me you’re male and white.”

“I can see why you do this job,” says I.

“Yes,” she says, the frustration of the no-parking signs colouring her tone, “I’m detective material.”

I explain that I am neither a permanent resident nor a visitor, and that so far no bureaucrat has been able to tell me if my British driving licence is legal for a person—or perhaps non-person—like me.  I didn’t mention my utter conviction that as soon as I attempt to drive I shall have a SWAT team surrounding the car.  She said my licence is ok.  She even looked in a book, so determined was she to put my mind at ease.  Another police car arrived and she asked her colleague and he said it’s fine too.

I was left feeling as though I had finally done something positive.  I took a situation and dealt with it.  I walked back to the house wondering what I’d been doing all this time, apart from avoiding imaginary surveillance vehicles.  I shall tell you.  I have been watching the Dam Busters, the Last Night of the Proms, listening to BBC radio on the internet and dreaming of steak and kidney pie.  I have been immersing myself in all things British, to offset my non-British surroundings.  It is time that stopped, because I live in America now, and Britain has nothing to do with it.

That’s what independence is, isn’t it?  It’s saying, “I love you dearly, but I’m here now, and this is home.  Quit bothering me.”

In the evening we went to Sarah’s parents for hot dogs and burgers and celebratory food.  I was promised a night of fireworks in the town and crowds and over-priced things that glow in the dark.  There would be singing of the Star-Spangled Banner and a camaraderie that’s infectious.  All day I had been asked if this was my first July 4^th.  This is a deeply philosophical question, but I chose to simply answer yes, which pleased people immensely.  It is easy to be moved by this degree of enthusiasm.  I found myself wanting to be moved by it, for when one decides to give up the old and embrace the new, it should be done with feeling.

We walked, a family group, into town and toward the playing field.  It was dark and hot and threatening thunder.  Down the main street—reminiscent of the setting for Back to the Future—the entire citizenry were migrating toward the same spot, happy and celebratory yet politely well-behaved, reminiscent of a Stephen King novel.

We had timed our walk so we’d get there just before the fireworks and, with the park full, we stood at the periphery with only a few thousand other latecomers.  I was overwhelmed by the turnout, and it gave me a sense of pride just to be there, for there is nothing quite so powerful as people doing things en-masse.  I felt like I was being absorbed into something so huge that my origins were now meaningless.

The firework display was a riot of colour and sound and it impressed me more than I thought it would, despite this being the very thing we had come to see.  The finale filled so much of the sky I had vertigo just staring into it.  It was, however simply the aftermath of something I felt to be more impressive.  Before the first firework had punctured the sky, my new family stood and sang the Star Spangled Banner along with thousands of other people in the park.  I didn’t want to sing Rule Britannia or God Save the Queen, fine songs though they are.

You have to put down roots in a new place, and you have to roll up your sleeves and become a part of it.  You can’t be ruled by a place that’s three thousand miles away.  When that realisation strikes, it’s time for fireworks.

--Pete

Comments

[sheryl]

Pete,
Thank you - this was such a great post. Poignant even for us natives who may feel disillusioned by the culture or politics, and therefore disconnected.

When I was a kid I hated the summer because it meant I would be forced to participate in games and sack races and such. I ended up hating the games along with the implication that my stepfather or some other authority figure was going to *make* me compete.

But sack races are a hell of a lot of fun. Took me a while to remember that. And I had to get past the memory of force that stuck in my craw. Both experiences were valid; it's just that one was in the past. The present keeps bringing new opportunities to experience and understand, and belong, in different ways.

[Coral]

"Is this your first 4th July?" That made me laf, as I am sure you were thinking of saying, "Well, no, ma'am, I have had one every year since I have been born!" (guess who else is English in another country?)

And, what are the words to Star Spangled Banner?

Thank you Pete for a great view of the 4th July.
Coral

[Neil]

What a treat to hear your view. When are you starting your blog?

[Chickie]

Great post!

[Sarah]

Thanks for the wonderful post, and welcome ashore.

[Libby]

"You have to put down roots in a new place, and you have to roll up your sleeves and become a part of it. You can’t be ruled by a place that’s three thousand miles away. When that realisation strikes, it’s time for fireworks"

Oh, so true Pete, so true... As a foreigner myself (that also ended up here because of love, just like you) I know exactly where you are coming from. It's hard to let go and to find a balance, but it must be done.

Terrific post. I loved it.

[Kim]

That gave me chills. Reading your first experience was great, I don't of course remember mine, since always doing the same thing ever year. It was a great reminder of what it's all about. It's wonderful you got to experience it and take it all in and except USA for what it's worth. It's to bad that I will probably never experience a Britian party. Maybe one day you can share what it's like to party the way you grew up.

[julie]

Pete- this was great to read. I love the pro-activity with the police.

I was also in the great Narberth July 4th migration and it really is moving.

[Heather]

Great post Pete. It really does help remind us what the 4th is all about! Awesome.

[lilinoe]

Thanks for writing this, Pete! I've long wanted to move to the UK but have held back mostly due to fear-- fear of the unknown, the 'strange', the unrelenting foreignness of it all. It's very interesting to read things from your perspective. Thanks, and please write more!

[Meira Voirdire]

Beautiful. I especially love what you said about people doing things en masse-- it really does put a tangible energy in the air that is exhilarating. And a good fireworks show will make me cry (and not just because of hormonal momma tendencies that cause me to worry for the lives of the people putting on the display, lol).

Pete,
I enjoyed reading this & had fun at the Narb fireworks! Have you been driving now?
peace & love

[Rosemary Grace]

I'm a Brit living in the US, though my mother is American, I grew up in Scotland, and I'm considering printing this and keeping it handy. Especially for when my (American) husband and I move to the UK, which we are planning to do in a few years.

It gets extremely frustrating sometimes when "stuff" just plain doesn't work the same as you'd expect, but getting out there and joining in is going to make you appreciate your new home.

[Shelli]

Pete,
This gave me goosebumps and made it a little difficult for me to swallow with the lump that was in my throat.

You will always be of British origin, but you are now American, too (regardless of what a piece of paper may or may not say). Isn't that grand? You are lucky that you have 2 countries to embrace you. Welcome. Nine months late.

[Nina]

Wow, great post!

[GirlGoyle]

Pete,

I totally understand the paranoia. I've lived here for 5 years now and still in limbo. A resident however an alien. For as much as I have tried to become a permanent it seems that the stars and life's circumstances conspire against me. So I live in limbo awaiting some day when this opportunity expires and I am forced to leave my life in America to return to the Old World and re-learn everything. I always said...it isn't easy being green. Hang in there, before you know it you'll be a native and hot dogs will taste better than bangers and mash...or maybe not :)

[LondonMisfit]

Hi Pete - I totally understand what you're going through and well done on managing a positive attitude so quickly! My parents moved me to South Africa when I was in school and it took a LOT of getting used to (well, we were from Wiltshire), then moved us to Australia a few years later and it was the same deal all over again. I now say to people moving somewhere - expect to hate it for the first year. Then if you don't, it's a big bonus. And it could just be me, but it's the food I miss the most (the day they got HP in Australia was a fantastic day in our family). It's so frustrating never knowing what brand of anything you like, or what beer you like, etc.

As an aside - I moved back to London last year, and had exactly the same trauma here. I'd only been here a week when I ended up bursting into tears at Euston, feeling completely overwhelmed and out of place, trying to change from Northern to Victoria line!!

I guess I really shouldn't tell you I'm off to the Proms on Saturday? (ducking for cover now).

Good luck, and great post!

[menoblog]

A nine month gestation period on accepting where you are? I think that's pretty fast. I do know people who are still stuck back in (fill in the blank), and continue to talk about how much better it was there.

Good work.

[mar]

"You have to put down roots in a new place, and you have to roll up your sleeves and become a part of it. You can’t be ruled by a place that’s three thousand miles away. When that realisation strikes, it’s time for fireworks"

I think that can apply to any situation, new country or not. When my sister-in-law moved across the U.S. 2,000 miles (yes, for love!) she said it was almost 3 years before Colorado started to feel like "home". It sounds like you've made a great first step.

I hope you continue to have positive experiences here in the U.S. - I promise we're not all crass, overbearing, pompous, war-mongering idiots!

[heidi]

Great Post Pete. If you start your own blog, I promise to comment with snarky brittish wit. Which I will steal off other british blogs of course.

[Menita]

Seconding the motion for Pete to get a blog - fantastic writing!
Boy do I ever understand the paranoia...and the fireworks.

[Jean]

I'm glad to hear that you seem to be settling in now, sit back and just go with it.....we'll still be here numb with toothache moaning on about the weather and the government....just remember that steak and kidney pie often has gristle and tubes ugh!!
Take care

[Elise]

WOW, that was just beautiful. I'm teary over here! As the kid of a foreign father, I can relate to so many of the emotions you describe. Welcome again to your new home, and so glad it's finally starting to feel like home for you.