Dear America,
We’ve had a complicated history, you and I. I put my life on the line for you. I volunteered to fight in your wars and to protect your borders. I did so honorably. I had this idea that I owed my country for all the great things it had given me.
When I think about it though. America didn’t really give me that much. My family was dirt poor and the opportunities I was given at school in California were incredibly meaningful to me. To take part in things like plays and other scholastic events gave me a lot. The incredible teachers I sometimes had in both Oregon and California (we were poor and unsettled so we moved a lot). I enjoyed the government cheese but didn’t really like the powdered milk - but the best food usually came from community food banks. I guess what I was grateful for was for all the indoctrination - the stories of the founding fathers, the Louisiana Purchase, and the sense of pride and patriotism that was burned into me by constant repetition between bells. I was grateful for the National Parks which were free for all citizens. I was grateful for the peace and safety and the perceived opportunity to work hard and succeed. I was grateful for being born in that place and time and being able to have the friends that I had, scattered though they were.
All those things I was grateful for though - I don’t think most of them had much to do with America. I mean yes, the government cheese, yes the National Parks that used to be free, yes, the chance to grow up in the 1980s and 1990s without wars. Those things were real and I think I paid my recompense for them. 4 years of active duty in the Marine Corps, four more years of inactive reserve. Actually, I more than paid my debt and I came away with some real issues. I guess you know what I’m talking about. I’m a born reader and the more I read, the more I realized that America had been a country that was taking more than it had been giving for a long long time. Not just from people like me, but from the world.
Long story short, when I really think about it. Most of those things I was grateful for, the gratitude was misplaced. I should have been more localized. I was grateful to California where I was raised, Washington State where I was born and had life saving surgery at the University of Washington, to Oregon where my family got food from community food banks and where I was given the opportunity to attend a state run program for gifted kids. Equally, I’m grateful to Hawaii for the opportunities I found there and to Alaska where I found a true opportunity to grow as a young man and expand my horizons. Those five states. That’s my country.
I don’t really have an issue with the other states but when I go to them, they always feel more foreign than Japan, where I choose to live now. I’ve always found it strange that my country is ruled by a bunch of old men from other places who sit in Greek and Roman looking buildings thousands of miles away making decisions about our people. My family arrived in America before there was a United States. They struggled and worked their way across the frontier. My sixth great grandmother was sister to Daniel Boone. My second great grandfather was a Texas Ranger when Texas was a Republic. My great grandfather was a pioneer in Montana when the copper barons ran things. My grandfather was born on an oil derrick on Signal Hill in California. My great grandparents on the other side were pioneers who settled the Michigan Territory and the Washington Territory before they were parts of the United States. I always found it funny that these ancestors were moving as if they wanted to get away from Washington DC. My pedigree is solid as an American pedigree can be, but my people were constantly pushing further away until they couldn’t go any further.
I’ve gone further - but the truth is - I miss my home. I miss the California and Hawaii beaches, the Siskiyou Mountains, the Cascade Range, the San Gregornio Mountains. I miss San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Eugene, Tacoma, Seattle, Bellingham, Juneau, and Honolulu. I miss the high desert and the temperate rainforest as well as the tropical rainforest and the Mediterranean climate just after the sun goes down. I miss the fruit and vegetables from the Central Valley and the beef from California’s heartland ranches and the Salmon from the Alaska and Washington fisheries. The oysters, the berries, the beer, the wine, the big wide open spaces. That’s my country.
In my novels I’ve called it the Bear and Salmon Republic. A country that stretches from Alaska down to the top of Baja and goes East as far as the desert begins. I tried to create a plausible way for that split to happen. I could never figure out quite how to do it in my books though. I figured a tax revolt might do it or de-federalizing the military bases or a ruthless tyrant making unreasonable demands. Maybe the story is working itself out in reality. I hope so.
I haven’t had any interest in being an American for a long time. We’re square, you and I, America. I don’t owe you anything at this point and I guess you’ve got a bit of debt to be paid as long as you hold me as a citizen but if we can get that worked out by freeing my country from you, I think we can call it fair and square. And if that somehow becomes the case, I’ll be proud to come back to my land and proclaim my self a Pacificist or a West Coastian or Westie or whatever the good people of my land decide citizens should be called. I’ll be proud to roll up my sleeves and get to work building what my ancestors were moving west to build.
I really hope that my country breaks up with you, America. We know you don’t want to give up Hollywood and Silicon Valley and the Redwoods and the Bering Strait and the Puget Sound and so much more - but it was never really yours to begin with. The people it belonged to are still there and the people who came and lived there are still there. We’re all shades of coffee from milky to deep black. We’ve never had legalized slavery. None of our states existed during your civil war or your revolutionary war. We were never owned by England, though Mexico and France both had claims. Maybe that’s why. we like eating tacos while drinking wine and watching the sunset. When the breakup happens - I hope we can be friendly neighbors, America - but we’ll be just fine if you want to build a huge wall between us. Hell, we’ll help you.
Ah, what a dream it is to turn in my American passport for one from my country. I hope I live to see it.
Sincerely,
CD