This Side of the Pond

I have pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands.

To one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.

In other words, I write to you for the first time this week as an American.

Last week, after more than a decade of earning the right, I traveled to Casper to stand with 22 other immigrants and take the oath of allegiance. It was a privilege afforded to me after passing the final test earlier this summer and being approved for United States citizenship.

I wasn’t allowed to call myself American yet, even though I had been given the nod. (The lovely lady who administered my test did, however, acquiesce to the idea of me being a proto-American.)

This is because there was one last step to take, and it was unlike anything else I have experienced during this long journey.

Since I first submitted my application for a green card and made my way to the enormous American Embassy in London (surrounded by armed guards that, to a firearm-innocent Brit, look like something Sylvester Stallone would use to mow down bad guys in the jungle), there has been a particular tone associated with the path to naturalization.

It has been made clear to me that I am fortunate to have been given this opportunity, and I should treat it with the respect it deserves.

This is good and right – it is how it should be.

I have always felt that the responsibilities of citizenship are an important lesson to internalize. However, it did mean that I was wholly unprepared for what happened in Casper.

As I took that final step, the tone transformed to one of joy and welcome. The smiles on the faces of the officials who were presiding over the ceremony said it all.

Our ceremony began with a message from President Biden, thanking us for the courage it took to start our lives over in a new place – we were also given a letter from him with a similar message.

Handing out our certificates, Chief United States District Judge for the District of Wyoming Scott W. Skavdahl shook each of our hands in turn and congratulated us, his smile wide and welcoming.

Representatives from veterans’ organizations, including the Legion and VFW, spoke to us of the sacrifices that have been made to protect this nation and its freedoms. The gentleman from the Legion then ended his speech by thanking us for choosing this country.

Thanking us! These people, to whom I owed a debt of gratitude before I could even call myself American, were thanking us? This concept was repeated throughout the ceremony, and it took me completely by surprise.

I traveled to Casper with a little retinue to support me from the audience, which seemed only fair considering each one of them had a part to play in helping me build my happy little American dream. They weren’t the only ones, of course – you’ve all been a part of my journey, in one way or another, so my thanks to everyone I’ve encountered along the way.

One of my companions, a pathologically early individual who was seated in the courtroom before we even lined up to check in downstairs, told me later that, as the representatives from the Daughters of the Revolution, veterans’ groups and others began to arrive, there was a genuine feeling of excitement and gladness to be there.

After a decade feeling the importance of earning my place, all those emotions were replaced with something new and unexpected. I’m certainly not complaining, because it made a special day even more evocative – I could feel the warmth of that welcome right down to my toes.

We were also given patriotic gifts, including my first flag pin, a copy of the Flag Code, a pocket Constitution and letters of welcome from U.S. Senators Cynthia Lummis and John Barrasso. The latter was particularly meaningful, because the very first letter I received after I moved to the States was from Senator Barrasso, congratulating me on my wedding; a decade later, the first letter I received as an American was, again, from Senator Barrasso.

The feeling of welcome continued after I came home, especially when Commissioner Jeanne Whalen surprised me at the end of last week’s special meeting with my very own Stars and Stripes. I have to say, I’m rather enjoying this “being an American” thing.

I’ve spent my first week as a citizen announcing every single “first”. My first cup of coffee as an American, my first day of work as an American, my first drive as an American, my first meeting as an American, the first time I brushed my teeth as an American.

I intend to continue being obnoxious about this for at least the first month. I will also be brandishing my new voter registration card at anyone who expresses even the vaguest interest.

It will take a while, I think, for this enormous change to sink in – at the moment, it doesn’t quite feel real. In the meantime, I will enjoy the simple pleasures of wearing my pin and greeting everyone I see as “my fellow American” until I am informed that the novelty has definitely worn off.