Being in the States is often hard for me, not simply because I travel to areas that I once lived in or near, that I once knew, but because IÂ’m like the gingerbread gone wrong-I used to fit, I used to come out of the mold with little gumdrop buttons and a racy icing border, but through the nicks and drops that I have had in my life, the gumdrops have been replaced by Rowntree, the icing is now erased, and I became mixed with Swedish pepperkakor. I donÂ’t fit the mold anymore. Maybe I never did, and thatÂ’s part of why I felt like I didnÂ’t belong in life, I felt hideously awkward and embarrassed, a sore thumb in a room full of pinkies.

And when I go back, I like to be in the places that I once loved (Target!) My days revolve around how to fit my favorite eateries in-Boston Market, EinsteinÂ’s Bagels, a Mrs. FieldÂ’s cookie to tide me over, a greasy IHOP breakfast, and EatziÂ’s when IÂ’m on the move.

Grocery stores fill my head with wonder and with memories. I see shelves of Tang and remember it from before, as well as the tall brown bottles of Ovaltine (Dear Ovaltine, I canÂ’t believe I ever touched your nasty brown drink. PS-LilÂ’ Orphan Annie, please get yourself some eyeballs.) A jar of marshmallow cream, which topped my childhood hot chocolate. Kraft American cheese-Colby Jack even!-and shiny slippery tubes of GrandÂ’s threatening to burst their seams with the short application of the business end of a spoon (when really, itÂ’s more fun to whack the tube against the kitchen counter). In the fruit aisle are cans of LibbyÂ’s! LibbyÂ’s! LibbyÂ’s! (on the Label! Label! Label!) The aisles of medications make me fall to my knees, as every box and every bottle promise to cure my every ailment. I worship at the feet of Starburst Jellybeans and Twizzlers.

And yet a lot has changed. Cheez-Its have grown cheesier. Lucky Charms are now colored radioactive colors (and donÂ’t even get me started on Trix). Every cashier seems to want to know my phone number, and even when I tell them IÂ’m not local, they press me and I have to go the distance and tell them I live in England, their computers canÂ’t take my 12 digit phone number. The TV shows that I remember from 7 years ago are mostly gone now, replaced by new faces in new places that I never knew.

But the people? My god, American people are kind. Americans smile more, they reach out and touch you on the shoulder as you share a joke, they make eye contact, they talk to you at every queue (sorry, line), every restaurant, every shop. This is something I had forgotten. This is something I miss.

And I look around at the big beautiful country I left behind and I miss some things, miss them fiercely. A drive around a city is like a violin concerto on my heart strings-I remember this, I laugh at the memory of that, oh my God thereÂ’s that storeÂ…and maybe because IÂ’ve been away, I can see why people think that America and everything about it is so much bigger, so much more. ItÂ’s all bigger, itÂ’s all more, in about one hundred fantastic ways. The lights are brighter, the smiles bigger, and the laughs louder. ItÂ’s wonderfulÂ…and sad. Things feel good, they hurt, and they make me rememberÂ…not least in Atlanta, which is an hour away from where my Grandpa is buried.

I didnÂ’t want to go there to see it.

In my mind, heÂ’s not there. HeÂ’s Somewhere Else.

America brings out that nostalgic smile inside of me. But at the same time, I don’t think I can ever go back. This is the way it is with everyone I know who comes from the Big Country and left (I detest the word “expats”. I’m a quiet kind of patriot-I don’t do flags but that doesn’t mean I am not proud of my heritage and all of the Ellis Island entrances that went with it. While there are things I don’t like about America, I love my country and I will never give up my citizenship. The term expat, to me, implies that we are literally ex-patriots. We’re just ex-residents, there’s a difference.) Every single American I know that left the country feels that they cannot go back, not permanently, not ever again. And I feel the same. I can’t explain why, it’s not like there’s something wrong with going back to the States, it’s not that something’s broken…you just can’t go back. You can’t. You can never go home again, in every sense of the word.

Oh sure, the logistics would be easy-I could hook up the electricity, I’d be around for voting time. I can work the suicide lane and I know where to go to buy most anything, I don’t have to beg Google to yield the answers. I’m sure Maggie and Mumin can become American cats, and I think Gorby has what it takes to be an American dog. Angus could do fine there (he seems to cause a stir wherever he goes-people love to ask him about England, and in Atlanta he got asked how often he did high tea in London, to which his British accent stirred through the air: “Me? I’ve never had high tea in my life. Rubbish.”)

But IÂ’d still feel like I always did-awkward. Embarrassed. An opposed digit in a single finger world. Not because America is bad, not because America has something wrong, but because thereÂ’s something in me that doesnÂ’t fit, some part of my gingerbread mold that canÂ’t fit right. America was where I come from and I will always love it. I just donÂ’t belong, and I never did. I was constantly getting things wrong, feeling abnormal, and cringing from the basic humanity of things and events around me.

And then the engineer comes on and announces that we will shortly be arriving at London Waterloo, all change please, and I close my PC, save my work, and stand up.

Where I am now is where IÂ’m meant to be.

And I grab myself a gingerbread latte, compose a grocery list in my mind, and step out into my own familiarity.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 02:53 PM | Comments (18) | Add Comment
Post contains 1070 words, total size 6 kb.

1 That post sure makes me think a bit. Are we all pretending to be kind to cope with the scrutiny of American society? Good thoughts!

Posted by: Steff at November 15, 2006 03:31 PM (uKuUC)

2 They don't have CoJack cheese in the UK? I never really thought about that being just an American thing before. Funny, I also thought twizzlers would be worldwide.

Posted by: Teri at November 15, 2006 03:46 PM (K7jOL)

3 Okay, I hate to be the asshole, but marshmallow fluff and jelly beans have gelatin in. And we'll take you in America every chance we can get, luv. Even if it's not forever, we'll savour every moment we can get. xxx

Posted by: Ms. Pants at November 15, 2006 04:12 PM (r6SJw)

4 but marshmallow fluff and jelly beans have gelatin in. OH. FUCKING. HELL. There goes those food items off my list...*sigh*

Posted by: Helen at November 15, 2006 04:14 PM (JkZAx)

5 It's funny to me how when American's are overseas, we are all loud and obnoxious, yet when people come here they are always amazed at how friendly we are. I guess it's all about perspective - I'm loud in a room full of books, but I seem quiet in a club, ya know? I'm with Pants. We'll take you every second we can. And I know what you mean about the belonging bit. I've never felt like I didn't belong here, I've never really thought about it. But I felt like I belonged in Scotland the minute I stepped off that plane. Oh well. Maybe in another life.

Posted by: amy t. at November 15, 2006 04:15 PM (3dOTd)

6 So lovely! Great post. I know how you feel...

Posted by: Eyes at November 15, 2006 04:20 PM (L67iN)

7 I donÂ’t fit the mold anymore. Maybe I never did, and thatÂ’s part of why I felt like I didnÂ’t belong in life, I felt hideously awkward and embarrassed, a sore thumb in a room full of pinkies. You've just put into words what it took me two whole sessions with my therapist to express. I thought it was where I used to live that was making me feel that way, but it's actually got a little worse since moving to Atlanta. So maybe I need to start looking in other places for where I feel comfortable.

Posted by: amber at November 15, 2006 04:31 PM (5PLeA)

8 I don't want to be a pain by injecting British pedantry here, but "expat" is short for "expatriate" i.e. someone who is resident in a country other than their native one, so there's no implication of not being patriotic.

Posted by: John at November 15, 2006 04:36 PM (St4cN)

9 I know that John. I gave how I felt about the term expat, as I said in the following: The term expat, to me, implies that we are literally ex-patriots. WeÂ’re just ex-residents, thereÂ’s a difference.

Posted by: Helen at November 15, 2006 04:40 PM (JkZAx)

10 you said so clearly what I am facing up to right now that you might as well have been in my skin

Posted by: stinkerbell at November 15, 2006 04:42 PM (QcMkT)

11 Hey H~ It's been a loooong while since I've commented. I just wanted to say that you don't have to move out of a country to feel like you don't belong. I was born and raised in San Diego but moved to Cleveland 19 years ago. When I go there to visit my family...all the familiar things brings a twinge to my heart and for a second I'm homesick. But deep in my heart I know I could never live there again. It's not apart of me anymore or at least not the biggest part of me. Where your home is and by home I mean where your true self is...that's where you belong. Where your safe. Oh and by the way...that picture of you and the teddy bear on flicker. Reminds me of our beloved Luka. Remember her? I wonder where her home is?

Posted by: Tiffani at November 15, 2006 06:55 PM (4x4HO)

12 Don't worry, Marshmallow Fluff and Starburst Jelly Beans are vegetarian. (Jelly Bellys are a veggie option too.) Unfortunately regular marshmallows are not. I miss campfire smores something terrible. Another one that killed me were the Junior Mints! I was bitter as hell at the movies after I found that out. Also why the crap do Altoids need to have gelatin in them?!? Can a veggie sistah get some fresh breath up in here? lol

Posted by: Lee at November 15, 2006 08:07 PM (PYZOC)

13 Kinda reminds me of how I felt during my California days. I lived fifteen years, almost half my life, there (went there as a young teen when my dad's job got transferred from Georgia). Did the bulk of my growing up (teen and adult) there, found many wonderful friends (including my wife), and had many wonderful experiences (like living in a hillside house with a view of San Francisco Bay for a year). Yet I never felt like I totally fit the California lifestyle. And even though I'd love to go back and visit, see some old friends, and go places I used to go, I could never live there again. And not just because of the cost of living. After living in Georgia for the past nine years (and living here for about eight as a child) I'd feel even more a misfit than I did before.

Posted by: diamond dave at November 15, 2006 10:08 PM (12GB3)

14 I loved this post, Helen. I was 'home' when I got to the Scottish highlands. Now if I could just figure out a way to earn a living there... And kosher marshmallows and jelly beans etc. are gelatin free.

Posted by: Jocelyn at November 15, 2006 10:49 PM (jkRb/)

15 I feel the same way about Canada. I love it fiercely, I will never give up my citizenship and I love to visit, but I am always glad to get back to the Bay Area. There's a lot of water under those Canadian bridges.

Posted by: Donna at November 16, 2006 12:35 AM (Aanzg)

16 Well I for one am glad it is not just me! I grew up and New England, moved to California and now I am back in NE. I feel like a like I just don't fit here. I so want to go back to CA.

Posted by: justme at November 16, 2006 06:40 PM (H0c+s)

17 But the people? My god, American people are kind. Americans smile more, they reach out and touch you on the shoulder as you share a joke, they make eye contact, they talk to you at every queue (sorry, line), every restaurant, every shop. This is something I had forgotten. This is something I miss. I dated a Brit when I was in my late teens and the first time he ever went to an American mall, all of the associates in the stores freaked him out. He didn't get it that people actually SPEAK to you when you walk in and that they follow you around and ask if they can help you find anything. He was rather put off by it at first, just as I was completely put off by the fact that no one spoke to me when I went to one of the many malls when I was in England. I couldn't figure out why everyone was so fucking rude.

Posted by: girl at November 17, 2006 12:50 AM (z6Kyx)

18 I have similar feelings about my home state of Texas. Not that Iowa is an entirely different country, but still, it's pretty different. I love home and I love to visit (BBQ and Mexican food and wearing flip flops in January!) but I could never go back to live, every trip home is a little surreal, like going back in time.

Posted by: felicity at November 17, 2006 06:05 PM (Q2Vug)

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