These are the continuing adventures of a Swedish immigrant during her first year as an American. She boldly went where she'd never gone before...please come along on Adventures in America.
Side Note: The answer to my R post's anachronism question is that those pictures aren't from 1974! (Um, the year I've been writing about.) I'm not in a body cast, DataBoy is at least 4 or 5...Yes, they were bad pictures with shadows from my horrid photography skills and have extra pictures in the shot because they're from a Creative Memories album, but that wasn't what I was looking for. Now back to S.
So what citizenship do you have? Are you Swedish or American? When do you have to decide by? Um, I don't actually know. I'm a Swede because I was born there, and I'm an American because my parents registered me as “birth of American citizen abroad.” When it was time for my social security card, I got one no problem. I've always marked “US Citizen” on forms and no one has stopped me. I have a US passport.
What I do think is the truth (heard it rumored as kind-hearted people have asked me these questions and then TOLD me the answer) is that I have dual citizenship as far as Sweden is concerned, but that once I got my American passport, I officially chose America, who no longer recognizes the Swedish part of me. Makes the Swedes sound open-minded and accommodating, doesn't it? (The Swede confirmed this info as accurate as far as he knew.)
I could of course find out the correct answer by consulting an immigration lawyer, but it doesn't matter that much to me. I feel like I'm an American with a rich, Swedish heritage. When I visit there, people look surprised to hear Swedish come out of my mouth. I guess I dress like an American.
One particular incident cracked me up because I was asking for directions (for the 4th on the same trip, with 6 month old Tranporter on my way to my cousin's house in a town about two hours away) and the guy said, "Where are you from???" I guess someone so hopelessly lost and who didn't know ANY of the landmarks or roads or ramps or frontage roads he was referring to must be some alien. And I was.
My last trip to Sweden was that one in 1997. The Transporter got to meet Farmor. She died before I knew I was pregnant with OYT. Though Farmor and Farfar are both gone, the legacy they left me with carries on. I teach my boys our Swedish heritage, and we celebrate holidays two ways. I think they're proud to be part Swedish.