{"id":19417,"date":"2024-11-15T01:38:29","date_gmt":"2024-11-15T06:38:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/aleta.life\/?p=19417"},"modified":"2024-11-15T11:06:34","modified_gmt":"2024-11-15T16:06:34","slug":"the-advantages-of-being-foreign","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/aleta.life\/index.php\/2024\/11\/15\/the-advantages-of-being-foreign\/","title":{"rendered":"The Advantages of Being Foreign"},"content":{"rendered":"
Position: DRUG-INDUCED AMBULATORY COMA<\/a><\/h6>\n

\"Mike<\/a><\/p>\n

I have been a foreigner for much of my life. It has its advantages. Let me clarify. By the time my dad landed a decent job with tenure at the University of Chicago, he had dragged his young family around the UK for a dozen years. My mum being an American added more fuel to his peripatetic fire.<\/p>\n

Visits to the United States rolled around every few years. In the 1950s that meant piling everyone into an ocean liner and crossing the Atlantic for at least a couple of months. Such commitments of time suit academics better than bricklayers. After all, you don\u2019t have to be in Barnsley to research a manuscript. Back then you could do that as easily from the poop deck of the SS America. Crossing the Atlantic by airplane in 1959 was an activity reserved for the jet-set. It was that halcyon time when air travel was still exotic and the dominion of movie stars[1]<\/sup><\/a>.<\/p>\n

Pitching up eight months pregnant at my grandparent\u2019s summer house on Cape Cod, my mother duly enshrined my rights to US citizenship. Having been born into an American family herself, in a fit of youthful exuberance she renounced her American citizenship in protest of McCarthy\u2019s witch hunts[2]<\/sup><\/a>. Only a couple of degrees separated her parents from folks like Alger Hiss<\/a> who were accused of being communists. My mum took umbrage on her parent\u2019s behalf.<\/p>\n

Like a hasty marriage, however, it was a decision that she came to regret once my dad got his gig at the U of C, and they moved back to the States permanently. She lived out her days on her green card, because, no surprise, once you renounce your citizenship there is no road back. The UK, still in the throes of its post-colonial generosity, offered citizenship to first generation offspring regardless of where they were born. As a dual national, then, I had two of the best passports one could desire. An American one (to pursue the eponymous dream) and a pre-Brexit British one (allowing for an infinitely long Grand Tour<\/a>, should one so desire).<\/p>\n

Time Served<\/h6>\n

\"MN_Passport\"<\/a><\/p>\n

From those modest beginnings, I spent years living in countries that were neither England nor America, including Germany (3 years), Holland (1 year), Spain\/Italy (1 year apiece), Turkey (almost a year), Singapore\/Asia Pacific (3 years). I spent enough time in the UK that at one time my American passport was issued to me in London and my UK passport issued to me in Chicago.<\/p>\n

PCE
\n<\/h6>\n

With that background and, having discussed at length the disadvantages of being a foreigner in previous posts, let us for a moment consider the benefits:<\/p>\n