Hey. It's been awhile.

No, I have not given up on the blog! And I have no intentions of doing so. But since I moved on May 1, Canada has very quickly become a different kind of place for me. See, visiting a place and moving there are two completely different things.

I was thinking about this the other day on a commute to my new job, which is located in beautiful Hamilton, Ontario.

One of the hardest parts of moving to a new country, or moving to a new anywhere, really, is the effect it can have on families. 

Obviously, there is the worry of distance. I realize I am quite fortunate in being less than three hours from my friends and family, across a land border between two friendly countries with no visa requirements. Really, barring any prior dinner plans, a felony conviction, or lack of a travel document, there is nothing keeping friends and family in the far-northern United States and Canada from visiting each other, now that pandemic restrictions have lifted. The same can't always be said for people who make the choice to move across oceans, time zones, cultures.

Americans tend to have passionate feelings, but not deep understanding, about a lot of things.

Americans love hot dogs, but most couldn't (or wouldn't want) to tell you what's in them. Americans love listening to rap music, but many probably can't relate to struggles of gang violence and urban poverty, nor excessive wealth and fame. Americans are quite particular about what car they drive, but nobody except your local enthusiast (or maybe your Uncle Jim) could tell you much about how they work.

For generations, Americans have had an obsession with the British Royal Family, and the institutions of monarchy in general, even though it is, er, not our form of government, nor does anything they do really affect us in any way.