The Downside of Falling in Love with an American

Last week we were hoping to embark on an epic road trip up the eastern United States and find ourselves in Canada by this time. We wanted to enjoy a few weeks catching up with the family and friends we left behind before my husband starts a new job next month. New York, Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, and a week at my friend’s cottage were all on the list. 

As you can probably tell, that trip never happened. 

There is a huge downside of falling in love and marrying an American and that obstacle is dealing with the expatriation process. 

Completely and totally in love with this American

Considering that I’m from Canada, people have naively assumed that the immigration procedure would be a breeze for us but we’ve been going through the spousal visa process for over eight months and it seems never ending! I can’t tell you how many frustrated hours and tears have come from it. Even just visiting each other’s respective countries causes suspicion that we’re planning to sneak in our spouse illegally (remember that time I was detained at the border?). 

How Do You Feel About Guns in the Bedroom?

Growing up in an affluent Canadian suburban neighbourhood, guns were something I never gave much thought to. Neither my friends nor family were into hunting and I never saw any ranges in the area or even guns for sale in stores.

Firearms are not a part of the Canadian culture the same way they are in the States. The right to bear arms isn’t codified in our constitution. You certainly can’t just go into a WalMart and buy ammunition, let alone a rifle, the way you can here in Tennessee. Even owning a handgun in Canada requires you to pass two safety courses and apply for a different type of licence. (I’m sure you can illegally pick something up on the streets but I don’t want to go into that right now.) 

As you might expect, no one in my family owns a gun. Of course, my upbringing isn’t representative of all Canadians, but it’s a bit of background that coloured my perceptions and experience. I hadn’t even held a gun until I was 22 years old. When I started dating my husband he was a US Marine and made sure to remedy that situation right quick. 

Since then I’ve shot rifles, shotguns, and pistols. And I must admit… they’re quite fun! As long as you treat them properly, I have no problem with guns. 

What I do have a problem with is keeping a loaded gun in the bedroom. I remember the first time I visited Tennessee and meeting M’s parents when we’d been dating for less than a year. As we were heading off to bed, M’s dad said, “Oh wait a second son, here you go, for the guest bedroom,” and handed him a four foot rifle that he was meant to prop up against the bed. 

“Uhh, sorry whaaat?” I stammered, standing awkwardly in the hallway. 

“You’re the first bedroom when you come into the house. In case anything happens,” he replied. 

“No fucking way,” I said to M as soon as he closed the bedroom door. He just laughed but knew not to push the issue. (The gun made its way into the closet that night and out of the bedroom for the rest of our visit.)

Now that we’re back in the States and temporarily living with M’s side of the family, we have access to a lot of firearms. Fast forward to the night I returned from Panama. M was back a month before me and had done a ton of work to fix up our new place. As he opened the door and proudly showed me to the bedroom, I couldn’t help but notice his pistol and attached scope just hanging out on the dresser.

“Yeah, I don’t know about this,” I said as I picked up the gun. “Let’s put that away for now,” and tucked it into one of the drawers. Obviously this was only meant to be a temporary solution given that it was one in the morning and I was exhausted from an entire day of travel. But you know what they say -- out of sight, out of mind -- and a few days passed before I even thought about it again. 

A couple days later M cleaned his rifle and his pistol and both of them somehow found their way into the bedroom yet again. This time he put them in a case in the opposite corner of the room, out of arm’s reach from the bed. And you know what? I’ve slept just fine every single night since I’ve been here. In fact, we recently had to move the entire gun cabinet into our garage apartment. Between my husband and father-in-law they have about 20 guns in their collection which are now sitting in the closet off my living room. 

And here I am, that Canadian girl who still barely knows anything about firearms, living with all these guns in the vicinity and I barely think twice about it. Granted, we don’t have to worry about any little ones getting into our stuff, which certainly makes it easier. 

Would I prefer that we not keep guns in our bedroom? Absolutely. Of course the obvious question is what if someone breaks into your house, what are you gonna do? “Um. Not shoot them and call 911?” I reply, which my husband teases me is a “very Canadian” answer. 

But I’m married now, so there are two of us, and some compromises must be made. Not that I will be shooting anyone anytime soon! Ha. But M has grown up around guns all his life and just because I’m uncomfortable with firearms doesn’t mean that my preference automatically outweighs his. 

I feel like this summer in Tennessee has warmed me up to the idea of keeping a gun in the bedroom, something I was dead set against a few years ago. I thought I would have a lot stronger of a reaction to be honest. If it were up to M, we’d probably have his pistol stashed under our bed or in the night table. That I don’t see happening. But as long as the gun is put up and out of reach, I seem to be fine with it.

I’m curious -- do you keep a gun in the house for personal protection? What do you think about keeping one in the bedroom? 

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How I Remember

Today is Remembrance Day (or Veterans Day, or perhaps Armistice Day, depending on where you’re reading this) and every year as this date comes around, I’m reminded of a funny story from the first time Matthew and I spent this holiday together.

My husband, who at the time was my boyfriend of six months, was stationed in North Carolina and asked me to fly to the States that weekend to be his date for the Marine Corps Ball. For those who may not know, Nov. 10th is the official birthday of the US Marine Corps so this day goes hand in hand with Nov. 11th.  

The USMC celebrates their birthday with a cake-cutting event which M’s unit had been notified was not mandatory. Told he’d be getting a 96er (military term for four day weekend), M made arrangements for us to get away to a beautiful suite overlooking Wrightsville Beach so I wouldn’t have to stay in the barracks (dorm rooms) with him and his two roommates. We should have known things would change though as M’s unit always had the worst luck with getting their weekend liberty revoked, but the chain of command had been notified and everything seemed fine. 

We were young and in love and hadn’t seen each other in three months, so we happily drove an hour away from Camp Lejeune and spent the next couple of days literally frolicking along the beach. This Canadian girl couldn’t believe her luck with this wonderfully warm North Carolina weather!

The view from our balcony 

Big Changes

In my very first blog post, I discussed how growing up I felt pressure to follow a certain kind of path in life: University. Grad School. Corporate career. Buy a house. Have kids. Retire. Relax. 

As I grow into my twenties and learn more about myself, I don't know if I necessarily want or don't want those things any more. All I know is that if they happen, I want them to happen in an exciting way. An adventurous, passionate, stimulating kind of way. A way that my husband and I intentionally choose, on a path that we actively decide to pursue, not just moving along as the current of life pushes us in the direction we’re expected to travel.

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Last week I quit my first “big girl” job after two years of employment in the corporate world and steady paycheques every two weeks. It’s time to pursue new creative and professional opportunities and I’m excited and anxious and ready to be entering a new phase of our lives, as Matthew and I like to refer to it. Plan C if you will. The good ole days in Ottawa are coming to an end.

My husband is seeking a commission in the United States Marine Corp. (That sounds super formal to me but I’m just going with how Matthew told me to describe it... in normal people talk he is going into the military and becoming a USMC Officer.) He’s already spent four years as an enlisted Marine and deployed around the world, and when he left the Corp. three years ago we thought it was the end of that chapter. I know it’s way more common for Americans, but military life was completely foreign to me before I met Matthew. His heart is pulling him back though and I completely support his decision, so here we are, wrapping up life in Canada, and getting ready to make some serious changes. We are heavily considering international posts and experiencing ex-pat life in a new corner of the world, but for now we have a few adventures that need to happen first. 

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