Not Everyone Wants to Be A Citizen

Following the debates here in the U.S. over creating a path to citizenship for undocumented migrants here, I am struck by two assumptions that are, based on my experience, erroneous.    These assumptions are that:  1.  Everyone wants to become a citizen and 2.  Becoming a citizen is in the best interests of all migrants.

This is simply not true.  Not every migrant hits a distant shore with the intention of seeking full citizenship.  This may be because he or she does not plan to stay very long (though he might change his mind over time) or because he or she sees that it is clearly not in his best interests.  Yes, you heard me:  Becoming a citizen of a nation-state is not necessarily a good deal for everyone.

Today let's take off the rose-colored glasses and examine a few reasons why many prefer to be legal residents and may never choose to become citizens in their host countries:

The Rights of a Citizen are not Attractive: Many migrants are not interested in voting or running for office and some do not intend to reside permanently in that country.  Many migrants are not planning to bring over their families and they have no desire to work in sectors restricted to citizens like the defense industry or to become a "fonctionnaire."  Furthermore, some migrants see that full citizenship does not guarantee them the same level of rights as other citizens.  Within the spectrum of citizens, they see clearly that some are more privileged than others.  Why would they want to go through the hassle just to become a "second-class citizen" with fewer de facto rights than the native born?

The Duties of a Citizen are Unacceptable:  Military service in that country, for example, or taxation. The U.S. taxes ALL its citizens at home and abroad regardless of where they are living.  Why would a bright young highly-qualified global migrant take that deal?  Let's say he moves to the U.S. to work for a few years, becomes a citizen, and then is offered a wonderful opportunity in Asia.  Since he is a U.S. citizen, the US government taxation and reporting requirements will follow him to China and he will spend much time and energy staying compliant.  If marrying the United States means having the American Internal Revenue Service as a mother-in-law for life, then, frankly, for many migrants that is a ball and chain they do not need or want.

Loss of Other Citizenship: For some it is possible that they will lose or put at risk the citizenship of their country of origin.  Most states now accept dual nationality but not all and some migrants do not want to deprive their future children of the right to be born citizens of the country of their parents and grand-parents.

Loss of Protection: Citizens have the right to ask for the aid and protection of their states of citizenship. In the case of dual nationals the principle of "dominant nationality" may be applied and they may no longer be able to ask for help of the country of which which they are a citizen but not a resident.  So a French/American in the U.S would in theory not be able to ask France to help him in the event he falls afoul of U.S. law.

Political Ambitions: Just because some democratic nation-states allow dual nationality does not mean that the public accepts it.  If a migrant would like one day to run for office in his home country or serve in a high position in the government, his other nationality may be a problem. Even where it is allowed by law, there is a real possibility that he won't be selected or elected by the home country constituents if he voluntarily naturalized on another country.

Loss of property and inheritance rights: Apparently this used to be true of certain countries. It is still, theoretically, possible. Imagine a migrant has an inheritance or property dispute in the home country. The sheer effort that will be required to defend his rights (not to mention the look on the judge's face when he/she find out that the migrants lives in and is now a citizen of another country) will be substantial which gives a distinct "home court advantage" to his adversaries.

Family Responsibilities: Many migrants have aging or ill parents in the home country. If taking on another citizenship means that they cannot easily go back to the home country to care for them, that's a problem for the migrant, for his family and even for the country they live in.  Who will take care of them if the migrant cannot return?

Social Pressure: The people in the home country may be genuinely offended that a migrant is considering becoming the citizen of another country and they let them know it. Even where the law permits dual nationality, public feeling is against it.

Security:  It's not terribly fair but, let's face it, people have opinions (and lots of stereotypes) about citizens of other countries.  In some parts of the world a citizen from a particular country may be the object of suspicion, or he may even be confronted by people's anger about the policies and actions of his country of citizenship.  The protection offered by the country of citizenship outside of the national territory is very limited.  Even the U.S. has had only limited success with this and Americans should know that evacuation services provided by the U.S. government are offered for a fee. (This is not true of all countries.)   Taking on a citizenship that could cause controversy, make a person less safe in some parts of the world, and that doesn't even offer basic protection and assistance as part of the basic citizenship package may not be a good deal if one travels a lot or intends to live in another country.

Integration Seems impossible: Some migrants do not have the sense that the citizens around them like immigrants much (regardless of whether they are undocumented, legal residents or citizens).  The society is either ambivalent or actively hostile to their presence. The political climate makes the migrant uneasy. Some may feel that, no matter what they do, they will never be accepted by, and will always face discrimination from the citizens of the host country even if they become citizens themselves.

Citizenship is Nothing Special: the citizens of the receiving country do not seem proud of their country or of their citizenship. They don't see it as having value. When asked, they are unsure as to why you would bother.  Most don't vote or participate in any meaningful way in the political arena.  Many citizens talk openly of emigrating and renunciations of that citizenship are common or rising. (See today's Isaac Brock post, Huge Jump in Number of Renunciations)

In all the debates about immigration (the undocumented or the much sought after STEM migrants), citizens and governments tend to tout all the advantages of citizenship and ignore all the negative consequences.  But those consequences are real and should be taken into account in the citizenship debate.

Just as no state can make citizenship laws in a vacuum, no individual makes a decision to ask for citizenship without doing some very deep thinking within his own particular context. Even where both countries accept dual nationality and the process is relatively simple, the choice to ask for citizenship is a complicated moral, emotional, and financial calculation where the individual must weigh all the factors for and against before making a decision.  If it is the desire of a nation-state to add to its citizenry, then it must take into account as many of these factors as possible.  

Failure to do so means more undocumented aliens, more legal residents and fewer and fewer citizens.  

Is that necessarily a bad thing?  

I'll let you be the judge of that.

Vancouver: Le départ

Leaving Vancouver turned out to be even more interesting than arrival.

I checked out of the hotel at noon, left my bags and walked over to the AA meeting at Christ Church Cathedral.  On the way I noticed a little shop selling sunglasses and I went into inquire about getting some made (that blinding Vancouver sunshine was getting to me).  The saleswoman  regretfully replied that it couldn't be done in an afternoon.  I thanked her and was about to take my leave when I noticed some candy on the counter being sold to support breast cancer research. So I hauled out my wallet saying that this was something I could certainly support because I was a sufferer.  Turns out that Kate was too.  We had a long conversation in that shop and shared our stories - how we discovered our cancers, the treatment saga, and how we were doing now. When I had to leave to go to my meeting, she came out from behind the counter and we just held each other for a few minutes.

After the meeting I met with a longtime reader of the Flophouse - someone whose emails have always been a delight.  She was one of my first readers and I still remember how good it felt to hear that there were people out there (folks not related to me) actually reading what I wrote and finding it useful and entertaining.  Kristin, thank you for that and for the coffee and conversation.  It was such a pleasure to finally meet you.

After coffee I headed back to the hotel to pick up my suitcase and take a taxi to the train station.  On the way I got very thirsty (who know Vancouver could be as hot as the south of France) and decided to stop for something to drink.  Just in front of the convenience store I saw a panhandler.  Did I haul out some change and give it to him?  You bet I did.  I always do - not so much for them but for me.  Not to assuage some of my middle-class guilt but because giving to someone else without judgement, without conditions, without expecting anything in return is a radical change in my mentality and a habit I want to cultivate.  It is an antidote to self-centeredness and greed and fear about never having enough.

And, as so often happens, I got back something I needed to hear:  his story.  Recession, factory closures, older workers and giving up.  You can walk down the streets of many big cities these days and probably hear something very similar in the U.S., in Europe, and in other places.  And then we talked about the general problem of homelessness in Vancouver and how drugs and alcohol are a part of life in the streets there and make a bad situation even worse.  He congratulated me for making it into AA and said, "You look good."  I hope Dave makes it off the streets eventually because he didn't look so good.   But he was a kind well-spoken man and I fervently hope that the time he spent talking with me didn't cut too badly into his daily take.

Got back to the hotel, grabbed my suitcase, and the fine staff at the Westin ushered me into a taxi.  It was when we arrived at the station that the fun began.  I had a ticket on the 5:45 PM Amtrak and decided to get there early because, hey, U.S. immigration is a crap shoot at best.  And what did I find when we arrived at Pacific Central?  Cop cars everywhere and a herd of reporters with cameras and microphones.  The entire station was cordoned off with yellow tape. This did not look good.  Paid the taxi and marched up to one of the reporters waiting in the park and asked, "So, what's up?"


The CBC reporter was more than happy to alleviate her boredom by chatting with me.  Three bags had been left in the train station unattended, the station had been closed down and the incoming train from Seattle was sitting out there on the tracks and had been for over 2 hours.  The police had just found the owners of the baggage and they were interrogating them in the parking lot.  Three young Asian backpackers looking very contrite.

Not being one to miss an opportunity, when the CBC reporter asked me where I was from and what I was doing in Vancouver, I gave my best elevator speech about FATCA, citizenship-based taxation and the Isaac Brock Society.  Canadian Brocksters, there is hope - when I said "FATCA" her eyes lit up.  Yes, she had heard of it and smelled a story.  The idea that someone from France came all the way to Vancouver to meet with people about this definitely sparked her interest.  Alas, as she was rotting through her bag looking for a card to give me, a spokesman from the police came out and she had to run over to where he was holding a press conference.  But she asked that I give my coordinates to her colleague which I did.  Cross your fingers, folks, and hope that she gets back to me.

Eventually it was all sorted out and the backpackers were sent off in a Vancouver police car.  (Those poor kids - what a great vacation this turned out to be.)  I have to disagree with this CBC article because the delays were hardly minor.  First they had to bring in the train that was sitting out on the tracks.  Then they had to clean the train and prepare it for boarding.  U.S. Customs and Immigration took forever to open.  By the time we boarded we were already late.  We pulled out of the station at last and about a half hour later Canada Rail put up a red light and made us cool our heels on the track for another 20 minutes.  But we finally got rolling and, oh, was it worth it.  The sun setting over the water was not to be missed.  As we clickety-clacked down the line, people out on the beach enjoying their evening waved to us on the train.  Sunsets and people of goodwill know no borders.

We pulled into the King Street Station in Seattle an hour late.  What a fine trip it was.  So many people to meet and places to see - some planned and some that were pure beautiful blind luck.

Amin Maalouf once wrote:

Chacune de mes appartenances me relie à un grand nombre de personnes; cependant, plus les appartenances que je prends en compte sont nombreuses, plus mon identité s'avère spécifique.
Each one of my adherences connects me to a large number of people; however, the more groups I belong to, the more my identity proves to be specific.
Grâce a chacune de mes appartenances, prise séparément, j'ai une certaine parenté avec un grand nombre de mes semblables; grâce aux memes critères, pris tous ensemble, j'ai mon identité propre, qui ne se confond avec aucune autre.
Thanks to all my adherences, taken separately, I have a certain relationship with a large number of people like me; thanks to the same elements, taken all together, I have my own identity, which can never be confused with any other. 

We are not islands, mes amis, living in glorious isolation in in complete control of our destinies, parsimoniously controlling our interactions with our fellow human beings.  It is trite but true: We are all connected and if we just parse our experiences and identities we can connect to anyone just about anywhere.  Precious little of what we have lived is unique to us alone but that doesn't simply make us cogs in the great wheel.  Rather, it is the combination of all our memories, talents, and tales that make us who we are.  It is a rich reservoir that we can draw from to make the most of the time we have on this mortal plane.

If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island cut off from other lands, but a continent that joins to them.

Vancouver: The Brocksters

I am just loving Vancouver.  Yesterday morning I got up early and went to the 8 AM Mass at the Holy Rosary Cathedral.  Beautiful church and service.  Very often weekday masses are what I call "Speed Mass" - an abbreviated version of the full meal deal.  This one cut no corners and the priest gave lengthy (but truly inspiring) sermon.  Before leaving the church I lit candles for Julia, Jacques and Roger.

After Mass I went to the Vancouver Art Gallery.  Very nice.  I really enjoyed the Grand Hotel Exhibit though I didn't see my favorite hotel (The Hôtel de Crillon in Paris) mentioned.

All that was good but the fun didn't really begin until I hit the lobby of the Vancouver Hotel and met some fellow travelers from the Isaac Brock Society (The Vancouver Brocksters).  How amazing to finally meet in person some of the people I've had the pleasure to know via social media and the Internet.  What a joy and an honor to see them in person.  We had lunch at the cafe at the art gallery and there was so much to say and it ended far too soon.   Thus far this is the highlight of my North American trip and I thank each and every one of them for the meet up.  It was incredible.

And just a suggestion on my part:  You folks should keep meeting.  I think together you could really rock this part of the world.

Today is my last day here.  I'll be heading over to an AA meeting around noon and then I will wander the city until it's time to take the train.

How to Raise Frenchlings

I'm packing my suitcase right now for a three day trip up to Vancouver, British Columbia.  We're leaving around noon and should cross the border late afternoon.  So far the plan is very simple:  Go to Mass, Find an AA meeting, and meet up with people I've met on-line in these past few years.  I haven't been on a road trip since I got sick and I am so looking forward to this one.

The other day the younger Frenchling turned 18 and that meant that I no longer have children at home.  My two daughters are a source of delight and wonder for me.  They are so much smarter than I am and much funnier, too.  The elder Frenchling is working at a restaurant here in Seattle this summer - an introduction to the working world.  Tips are generally good and so are most of the customers.  But every once in awhile there's a bad apple.  The other day one such person came in and said:  "Yeah you guys aren't really doing anything, but the tip jar is right there so I'd feel bad not leaving a few dollars."

To which my daughter replied (in her head and on FB later, but not to the customer since she is no fool):

"Yes honey. The food runs itself, the shakes make themselves, the dishes carry themselves to the kitchen. In fact, the money makes itself. I don't know why we even show up for work."

Yes, my sweet child, "Il y a des cons partout."  Now, if she were in France she could have said it directly to the customer but this is the U.S. where it is apparently acceptable to 1.  denigrate working people and 2. be rude and unpleasant to the staff.  Whoever came up with "The Customer is King" was an ass.

In honor of my two adult children, here is a post I wrote back in 2008 about some general principles we followed for raising bi-lingual, bi-cultural, bi-national kids.  Your mileage may vary but it seems to have worked out pretty well for us.

How to Raise Frenchlings

The Franco-American Flophouse is a bi-lingual, bi-cultural family (even the cats understand English, French and Frenglish.) Contrary to what some people think it was not obvious when we had children that we would succeed in making it so. It takes more than one foreign parent to create a truly bi-cultural family in which everyone is “at home” wherever you decide to live. Success depends on your persistence and on your awareness of the forces that are aligned against you (schools, family members, the dominant culture). Here are four strategies that we have used that we think were particularly effective:

Language Equality - my husband and I use the One Parent, One Language method (OPOL). He speaks French to the Frenchlings and I speak English. This is the foundation but it is far from sufficient. Over the years we have come up with other strategies that we have added to OPOL:

- My husband and I are bi-lingual and we demonstrate daily to the children that we are competent in both languages. Since we live in France where the dominant language is French my husband and I reinforce English by speaking it to each other at home.

- French and English books and movies are always read/shown in the original language (no cheating and turning on the French soundtrack to Harry Potter). 

- Recognize that language is a very emotional topic in many countries and that the larger society (in particular the public schools) has interests that are not necessarily compatible with your multi-lingual, multi-cultural goals. This has been my experience in both the US and France (in the latter I was scolded by the teachers when my children were young for speaking English at home). My advice is to not get into it with the schools or argue about it with family or friends. Just smile, thank them for their advice, and then go home and do what you think is right.

Staying Connected
Language is only half the battle, culture is just as important. Frequent visits to the Other Country are indispensable. Our Frenchlings spend part of their vacation in France (Brittany) and part in North America (Canada and the U.S.) where they stay with grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends. This not only enriching from a cultural standpoint but it keeps the extended family firmly in the present.

Choosing a Third Place
Three years ago we packed up and moved to Tokyo, Japan for two years. It was the first time we lived as a family in a place where none of us were citizens and none of us spoke or read the language. The home court advantage was completely erased. For the first time we could see the subtle advantages that my French husband has when we live in France or I had when we lived in the U.S. It also gave us a completely different perspective on European/North American cultures which, seen through the eyes of our Asian friends and co-workers, are not so different...

The Grass is NOT Greener
The grass is not greener on the other side of the Atlantic. We do not live in France because it is a nicer place than North America and we do not spend our days filled with regret that we are not living in the U.S. This is what we believe and what we teach our children: there is no “better” place, there are only different places with different charms and challenges.

Lay Intellectuals

"An intellectual is a man who takes more words than necessary to tell more than he knows."

Dwight D. Eisenhower

To be called an "intellectual" is a compliment or an epithet depending on the company you keep.  It's just loaded with positive or negative connotations.  To call oneself an intellectual can be seen as the height of pretension (or lead one's listeners and readers to suspect an inability to hold a job in the "real" world).

On my last trip to the American Library in Paris I picked up William Pfaff's book, The Irony of Manifest Destiny : the Tragedy of American Foreign Policy which is now overdue and racking up fines in my absence.  It's a good book - Pfaff is always interesting - if a bit depressing.  As I closed the book I fervently hoped he was was wrong but I nonetheless had a sinking feeling that he might be on to something.

It was either when I was reading the book or just after when I was "googling" (a horrible word now polluting the English language) something else when I came across an article Pfaff wrote back in 1986 called The Lay Intellectual (Apologia Pro Vita Sua) .  (The Latin means "A defense of one's life".)

In this essay Pfaff grieves for the "private scholar" - a man or woman who pursues ideas for their own sake outside of the universities and other institutions of learning.  The species, he said, still existed  in Europe but had almost completely disappeared from the United States.  The American "think tanks" that were springing up at the time were not, in his view, a place of genuine intellectual activity since they were mostly concerned with "bureaucratic analysis" and not in thinking just for thinking's sake.

Some of what Pfaff wrote back in this 1986 article is still true today.  Has it ever been easy for a private person with a day job to devote time to the life of the mind?  There are only so many hours in the day and unless one is independently wealthy, there is rent to pay and children to feed.  It is probably still easier in a country like France to reconcile the two because there is a certain level of job protection - not to mention encouragement and honor for those who work and yet still find the time to write a great novel or poetry or to paint.

Furthermore, I like the term "lay intellectual" even though it implies that the academics are the clergy and the rest of us (the unordained lacking academic credentials) are a lesser breed (the oratores versus the laboratores).

But in many ways Pfaff's essay is terribly outdated.  It was written before websites, social media and email became ubiquitous.  As newspapers have declined, blogs and on-line publications have thrived.  Self-publication can mean fewer of the compromises Pfaff talks about - though, in a world where the currency is attention, the writer or renegade journalist most often writes with an eye toward amusing or intriguing readers. It is a mortal sin on the Web to be boring.

In an Internet world it is both easier and harder to write and spread one's ideas.  Easier because a lot of research is at one's fingertips through any search engine.  Harder because there is so much information that must be parsed and judged before it can be added to a blog post or an on-line article or essay.  Frankly, some days it's easier to read a book than it is to scroll through hundreds of websites.  Since I am very fond of books this is no hardship, and I always try to read at least one book on every subject that I research for this blog.  For me it's not either/or - it's and/and.

Like Pfaff I left university in 1989 not thinking of myself as an intellectual.  I grew up among people who were brilliant, witty and well-travelled.  Compared to them I was not exactly the brightest crayon in the box.  But I aspired to be because it was what was valued - to read and to be able to hold a conversation or write about ideas was one (and perhaps the most important) definition of "success" that I learned as a child.  For years I tried too hard, thinking that if I read the "right" books and had the "right" ideas, I would be welcome in such company.  

30 years later I think of it very differently.  Reading, writing, and thinking just for the hell of it is like music:  1% talent and 99% effort.  To want to be good at either of those things isn't a sign of intelligence or  academic destiny (Get thee to a university, Madame) it's the mark of a curious mind that finds pleasure in stirring the grey matter in interesting ways. To be able to communicate those ideas effectively, however, takes time and practice, practice, practice.

If you've ever read the Diary of Samuel Pepys (and you really should because it is very entertaining - the man was a serious skirt-chaser as well as a keen observer)  you know that in addition to being a brilliant civil servant, Pepys was a musician and could play several instruments.  Music was an important part of his life and he was a competent instrumentalist but not a professional.  This seems to have been true of his friends as well and he and his wife spent many an evening with friends talking, playing music, and singing.  

"Thence we went to the Green Dragon, on Lambeth Hill, both the Mr. Pinkney’s, Smith, Harrison, Morrice, that sang the bass, Sheply and I, and there we sang of all sorts of things, and I ventured with good success upon things at first sight, and after that I played on my flageolet, and staid there till nine o’clock, very merry and drawn on with one song after another till it came to be so late."

If the life of the mind (as Pfaff asserts) was indeed being channeled into the ivory tower of the university, then I'd say that something very similar happened to music.  What was once a skill practiced by many is now something done seriously only by professional (or those who aspire to be) musicians.  Yes, there are still skilled amateurs around but I know of very few people in the U.S. or France who meet for dinner and then have the ability to spontaneously haul out the instruments and play together.  In Pepys' time the making of music was something everyone could participate in, while today it seems to be a skill one passively observes and admires from afar.

If I had my way the intellectual, artistic and musical life would come rushing back to the private sphere.  The professionals (the rock musicians, Harvard professors, best-selling authors, even the functionnaire who holds a day job so he can write poetry at night) would still exist but in a context where the majority (the laity) had those skills as well and could exercise them for pleasure.  Not to compete with the professionals and the published but for the sheer delight of creation and the joy of doing it with others.

If this were so perhaps there would be more appreciation for those whose skill surpasses the norm and the words "intellectual" and "artist" could be redeemed.  A world where no one would ever ever have to write an Apologia like Pfaff's.

Tales from the Homeland: Seattle Gardens

Driving into many French towns and cities you may have noticed a sign right on the outskirts of the city proudly proclaiming this urban area a "ville fleurie" followed by one to four stars.




This is a national competition managed by the Conseil national des villes et villages fleuris, and is meant to promote gardening and green spaces in the many cities, villages and communes in the Hexagon.  The highest rating - four stars - is rarely given by the council of public sector representatives and professionals from the gardening and landscaping industries in France.  (No grade inflation in France - one must work hard to be the best.)  Even Versailles (my city) only has three stars though this year they are working hard to obtain the fourth one and with it the coveted "Fleur d'Or" (Gold Flower) award.

Seattle is also a "ville fleurie" though I know of no national equivalent in the U.S. to this French national concours.  However, what is done in Seattle is very different from a city like Versailles because space is organized differently and there are different limits (social, cultural and legal) to what can be done and what local people in each place would find appropriate.

A few days ago I took a short walk in Phinney Ridge, a neighborhood on a hill above the Ballard District here in Seattle.  I was meeting a friend for tea and on a whim I took my camera along to snap a few pictures of Seattle gardens and gather ideas for my garden at home.  All the pictures that follow were taken within a five block radius of my parent's house.

Public versus Private Spaces

Both my little neighborhood in Versailles (Porchefontaine) and Phinney Ridge have one important thing in common:  they are both what the French call "quartiers pavillionaire" - a residential district of single-family detached houses with gardens in front and in back.

But in Porchefontaine the houses are made of stone (usually pierre meulière) or brick, and in almost all cases a wall of stone or a metal fence encloses the gardens so that cars and pedestrians can only glimpse the interior courtyards and gardens as they pass by.  Gardens, front and back, are private spaces.

Seattle is very different.  The houses are almost exclusively built of wood.  This reflects both the type of local material the area has in abundance (timber) and the origins of the people who first settled here (immigrants from Scandinavia). It is unusual in this city for a front garden or yard to be enclosed in the French manner - the public space of a Seattle house extends from the house proper through the front garden and over the sidewalk onto what is called the "parking strip" - a small bit of earth between the sidewalk and the street.

Here is a classic Seattle wood house built on a small hill with a front garden open for viewing from the street, a retaining wall and the parking strip planted with the same plants that are used in the main garden.  There is no fence and no locked gate - anyone can walk up to the front door and ring the door bell.

If the front garden is public, the back gardens are more private spaces.  This is the garden the Seattle homeowner might fence in or shield in some way from the public. These are the private or secret garden which are not usually visible from the street but are meant to provide exclusive beauty for the owners and the closest neighbors.

The Parking Strip - An Appropriated Space

This is the area between the sidewalk and the street.  In my youth I recall that most were planted with grass which made it easier for people who parked on the street to get out of their cars. They were low maintenance but not no maintenance - it was expected that the homeowners keep the grass and edges neatly trimmed.   Technically this space belongs to the city but over the years homeowners have appropriated the space.  For the most part this is tolerated by the city as long as the gardeners follow a few rules:  no blocking the sidewalk and the city must give authorization for anything large and elaborate like trees.

In some cases where the homeowners have very small plots of land, the planting strip has actually become their main garden upon which they lavish all their love and attention.

Some plant spectacular flowers gardens like this one that are a feast for the eyes:

Here is one with a stunning use of ground cover to create a small multi-coloured bit of heaven:

Others use the space for vegetable beds:

Community Gardens

St. John's United Lutheran church took this idea bit further and created an organic community garden for both the pleasure of parishioners and local residents.  Planted and maintained by local gardeners it provides fresh vegetables and fruit for the church's soup kitchen (a resto du coeur for the homeless).

As you enter the garden there is a sign that says:

Hi neighbors!

We hope you enjoy this community garden.

The food crops are grown for the Soup Kitchen here at St. John's United.

If you like berries or snap peas,
please feel free to take one or two,
but kindly leave most, so we can
provide them to Soup Kitchen clients
who need fresh food.

Garden Fantasy

Finally, many Seattle gardens have a touch of whimsy about them.  This can take the form of original art or small statues or bird baths scattered around the garden to both personalize it and to offer the owner or viewer something that surprises or amuses.

In this front garden which I pass by often the owner was both a gardener and an artist and he decided to give his work a prominent place in front of his house.  I don't know why it works, but it does:

In this front garden is a truly original garden design - a chessboard set right in the middle of the garden:

This lush fern-filled shade garden is filled with stone gnomes and dancing frogs:

This is why we should travel.  To see familiar things (the plants, for example, are pretty much the same in both countries) organized and displayed in different ways.  Gardens are universal;  but how one gardens is particular to a place and is influenced not only by geography and climate but also culture and local laws and mores.

To those who may look at some of my photos and say, "Not in my backyard,"  I would counter, "Absolutely in my backyard" - the goal being to create a harmonious blend of the best of both worlds.

And when I head home in a few weeks I do plan on adapting some of the things I found here in Seattle to the local context.  A little multi-cultural mixup to add a little touch of Seattle to my very own "ville fleurie" in France.

The Flophouse Garden in Versailles, France (needs whimsy)

More on FATCA: 'Simple" Premise Gone Wrong

See below for updated links to other articles and discussions from around the world about The Hill piece.

It's been three days since our article,  FATCA:  'Simple' Premise Gone Terribly Wrong, was published in The Hill.  It is, as of noon today (Pacific Time), topping the Most Viewed and Most E-mailed lists and is second on the Most Discussed.

To all the people who read, commented, sent encouraging notes and phone calls, and who passed along the link via Twitter and FB and email, thank you so much.  To the sheer pleasure of seeing something we wrote published, we can add the joy of watching the Diaspora in action.  It's incredible and I never imagined that I would see such a thing in my lifetime.

To the homelanders who may be reading and wondering what the big deal is, please try to understand how frustrated we are.  We have tried just about every avenue to be heard.  We have joined organizations like ACA and AARO;  we have written (many of us more than once) to our Congressional representatives and to our local lawmakers in our countries of residence; we have sent article after article to the media; we meet every one-line article and discussions about this with comments and letters to the journalists correcting misconceptions and asking that they look into it further;  we have set up on our own websites and blogs.  Hell, we even went to the OECD and the European Parliament to see what could be done.

I don't know what more we have to do to get heard but I'm hoping that the publication of this article will mean that we will have an easier time convincing other publications to do interviews or accept articles giving OUR side of the story.

Whenever I get too frustrated or think that one sick, unemployed, middle-aged woman in Versailles is a complete fool for thinking that any of this can be changed, I remember the Dalai Lama saying:

“If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”

Which is to say that the "weapons of the weak" can be quite formidable indeed.  So let's all be mosquitoes and perhaps together we can create the perfect swarm.  

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Some very interesting discussions on the article around the Web if you'd like to see more reactions and comments:

Isaac Brock Society

Maple Sandbox (Lynne's blog)

Democratic Underground

American Citizens Abroad FB page 

Feel free to pass along any more links you may have come across in the comments section and I will add them to the list.

Update:  And here's one that hit my mailbox this morning from Greg in Thailand.  He asks, "Is FATCA Doomed?"  Really well done and a must read.