Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Swede loves America

Excerpt: What this country means to a Swede who fell in love at a young age. This is not a political piece. Not really. It’s more like a whole bunch of memories, strung together, and a plea for a reversal of the change I see sweeping the nation I love. I am a Swedish neocon, and a Jew, so I guess I am basically a unicorn. I was born in a sleepy town on Sweden’s west coast in the early 1980s, when the country was an inch from being a full-blown East German state. I should be a socialist feminist performance artist, or a hipster filmmaker, passionate about gender-neutral daycare and sourdough bread. But I got lucky, and I broke away from the herd. I first stepped on U.S. soil in the spring of 1990. My father had spent his high-school years in Texas in the early ’60s, and now he wanted his daughter to see what he had seen and love what he loved. And boy, did I ever. I was 9, and that trip would end up shaping my life forever. (Great message from Swedish citizen, who knows both sides of the story. --Del)

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