Husband and I watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding or whatever that movie was called. Which I really like. For many reasons. I grew up near Chicago so it reminds me of home. When I first moved to Seattle, I lived in Montlake, right by a Greek Orthodox Church. So it reminds me of Seattle, one of my favorite places on earth. I also like it because it's a chick flick and I love chick flicks. Anyway.
Husband got irritated at the Greek papa. Of course he's totally ethnocentric and of course it's something to hear how superior he believes Greeks to be. Husband said, "People like that drive me crazy. If where they're from is so amazing and where they are now is so inferior, they should go back." Which is not so much a Husband comment as a French one. 'Integration' is a big word here, used often and highly valued. I think what they really mean is not integrated but homogenous, VERY highly valued here. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. But that's another post.
Anyway, I told husband that it wasn't really about that for the Greek papa. And it isn't. As a foreigner raising children in a place that is not your home, the need, the desire to have them treasure and value and cherish and KNOW, really know, their other homeland is visceral and intense. And it sort of sweats out of you and seeps into conversations and attitudes. Greek papa is obviously an exaggeration, a caricature even. And yet. I find myself wanting my boys to be proud to be American, which means that I need to be proud to be American, which is hard to reconcile with the way I feel about my country and its leaders at times. But you take the good with the bad. And there is good. See, I'm sweating.