I had been mulling it over for a while, and in the grocery store yesterday I made my mind up: I’m not an American. I’m a child of the British empire. We are the same everywhere, we children. New Zealand. Australia. The more “civilized” corners of India. Seattle, Portland and Palo Alto.
We speak English. We eat boiled vegetables and meat. We honor capital and capitalism, and while we may eat turkey at different times of year, we all decorate for Christmas.
The grocery stores are more decorated by American brands than British ones these days, but the Broccoli and Cauliflowers harken back to their British roots. The language, religion, food, and education holds us together.
It’s familiar here in Melbourne, with urban sprawl and suburban habits. Trampoline gyms charge by the hour and children’s musical performances feature Moana, Michael Jackson, The Rocky Horror and Mathilda.
God save the suburbs, and God save the Queen!
Okay brother, are you getting in touch with a past life or have you just decided that you identify more with the Brits than Americans?
Manya, I most certainly identify more with Americans – especially the socially liberal California variety – than the Brits. Our food, our weather, our land…I miss it. It’s just hard not to feel like I’m part of this history, noticing how similar we all all around the world, especially compared to everyone who escaped the Empire’s touch.
Ah, got it. Thanks for the clarification. It is amazing how similar we are – all over the world. I am so glad (and a touch envious) that you are getting to experience that first hand. I have Australian friends and co-workers and have also found that the Aussies and the Americans seem to have a similar sense of humor, work ethic, and so much more. Please continue with your wonderful blog posts. I so enjoy reading them when I come into work in the morning.