Happy Anniversary

For some reason, I am keenly aware that this day--1 March--marks the advent of my tenure in the British Isles. In previous years, this anniversary has come and gone unnoticed, but when I saw the date this morning, the idea of today being special entered my mind and refused to leave.

Five years ago yesterday, I was still living in America; today, I'm half a decade in Britain. I don't know that this has gained me much more than the ability to say things like, "spot on" or "trousers" with impunity and a total lack of irony. Aside from this--and the obvious perk of being happily married--has leaving the land of my birth and taking up residence in a country where Marshmallow Fluff is still a novelty and air conditioning is considered a luxury item provided me with any real advantage?

In general, it's broadened my worldview, opened me up to new experiences and helped correct many misconceptions I never even knew I had. But more specifically, and, perhaps more beneficially, I can now better comprehend the lyrics of the Kinks song, "Come Dancing."

I've always liked the Kinks, and always regarded "Come Dancing" as a catchy tune with a bittersweet story. Oddly enough, it never occurred to me (mostly because it never occurred to me to think about it) that The Kinks were English. If I had, perhaps the nuances of the song wouldn't have escaped me so thoroughly.

In my erstwhile world, the young narrator and his older sister were living in upper-middleclass America. She liked to dance and flirt. They had a garden, with a gate, something I imagined only very wealthy people could afford. If I had let my imagination wander, I expect I would have given them a pool boy and gardeners, as well. The sad demise of the dance hall saw it turning into a 'Car Hop'--a 50's style burger joint. The sister eventually married a rich man (possibly an architect or State Senator) who took her away to live on an 'estate.'

But thanks to disrupting my entire existence and moving to another hemisphere (well, almost; it's only 15 miles away) I now know, not only where the Eastern Hemisphere begins, but that what I thought was 'Car Hop' is actually 'Car Park,' which means a parking lot. Also, the 'estate' the sister moved into was probably inhabited by more than her and her husband and the servants. An 'estate,' in American terms, is an apartment complex, traditionally for people on housing benefit (but not always). And a 'garden' is simply a lawn, in their case probably a tiny patch of scruffy grass with a gate opening onto the sidewalk.

No rich youngsters playing at a Dance Hall that was subsequently turned into a burger joint, these were working class kids, watching their favorite form of escapism being turned into a parking lot.

This may seem obvious to you, but it took several years of living here before it finally twigged. (You people living in America who got it the first time around, shut it, okay? Just gloat quietly about how much smarter you are than I am, and how much money you saved by not having to do what I did just to understand a few lines from a song.)

So the answer--to return to my original, self-imposed query--is, I genuinely feel a better person for having been afforded the opportunity of living in another country.

While I don't recommend this for everybody (expatriation is not for the faint of heart) I do recommend a visit. You should, really; it's quite lovely here. But I won't try to convince you; I think Kristy MacColl more eloquently expressed the virtues of vacationing in Sussex or Hampshire over, say, Vermont or Maine, when she sang, "I'm not looking for New England."

I guess you have to live here to get it.