An article in the New York Times discusses the rising number of Americans who hold passports for other countries due to ethnic heritage, country of birth, or where their spouse was born. Among the cited perks of having multiple passports is being able to select which passport to use depending on the country that one is entering. Interesting. I imagined myself arriving in Paris and breezing past all the American tourists with my European Union passport while sighing Ah, it’s so good to be back to the motherland.
“I want to become a French citizen,” I tell Mr. P.
Naturally Mr. P attributes my desire to the greatness of the French Republic rather than a compulsion to appear sophisticated to strangers in an airport terminal. “Why do you want to leave your country now?” he asks. “Bush is gone. You’re safe for at least four years.” He pauses. “But after that, if the Republicans ever come back… hm, maybe we should inquire at the French consulate now, just in case.”
Move to France? Moi? Well, I can’t say it never crossed my mind. I read the other day that the birth rate for Red State Christian conservatives was nearly 3 times that of Blue State Godless liberals. There’s women out in Kansas and South Carolina, having babies solely to staff ‘God’s Army’ with anti-choice, gay-hating, science-loathing Bible thumpers who believe that Earth is 6,000 years old. What happens when they’re old enough to vote? Jeb Bush appears to be on the cusp of having another go at public service… pair him with Sarah Palin, and that’s a Red State dream ticket.
Oui, oui, move to France. maybe! It turns out we have to be married for 5 years before I can apply for French citizenship. I also have to prove some small verbal competency in the French language. But while I look at America right now with optimism, I still harbor enough pessimism to want to re-start with the je parle francais. GW Bush has left me encrusted with cynicism and as cagey as a cat.
