Musings on Being a Foreigner
To all intents and purposes I am no longer a foreigner in the DC metro area or the United States. I have lived in the Maryland suburbs since 1987, and in the U.S. since 1983. But, for years I was an English stranger in a strange American land.
You see I was born and raised in England with a brief sojourn in New Jersey during my elementary school years. I was an English girl through and through. Raised on a steady diet of stodgy food, tepid drinks, and washed out vegetables, I considered England my home. The house I lived in was so cold that my grandmother used a red light bulb in the entrance foyer to create the illusion of warmth. Not even a red light bulb, could camouflage the dampness of the British climate. All through my school years I carried a plastic raincoat that folded in to a pouch and a collapsible umbrella. I watched the royal weddings of Princess Anne, Prince Charles, and Prince Andrew on a tiny television set. The royal weddings were a nice change of pace from the offerings on the three national TV channels of turgid sitcoms, low-budget game shows where prizes ranged from a toaster to a washing machine, and drama series destined for Masterpiece Theater.
When not having conversations about what was on telly, I attended a Catholic all girls convent school with quite possibly the most strict school rules: leather shoes were worn in to school where each student changed in to another pair of leather shoes for inside school use; skirts were periodically measured by having the students kneel on the floor of the school auditorium to check length; and -- the kicker -- during fire drills both real and tests all students lined up in height order before proceeding out to the playground. It is a wonder that I survived my school years at all. But, survive I did. As a senior in high school (actually I was an Upper Sixth Former to use British speak), I begged and pleaded to be allowed to attend college in America. I was bound and determined to fulfill the pact I made to myself as a child to return to the U.S. My college destination became a small liberal arts college in Pennsylvania. I moved to Maryland after graduation. To say that I was shell shocked when I first arrived in the U.S. would be an understatement. My classmates and I may have spoken the same language, but the similarities stopped there. There were times I struggled to catch what someone was saying. When you are a newly arrived foreigner and someone starts a rapid fire conversation about distinctly American topics it can be hard to follow what the person is saying. Trust me. Which brings me to 2009. At this point I am more American than English. I proudly hold a U.S. passport, but still hold onto my British passport for sentimental reasons. My husband and three children are American born and bred. I was last in England in 1993. If you meet me for the first time you might think I am English, or Australian, or just plain American. I will always be English, but home to me is America and the DC metro area. When not raising a kid, a preteen, and a teen, Jill Berry blogs about kids, preteens, and teens at www.musingsfromme.com.
