23: Green Card for Sale
23: Green Card for Sale
Green Card for Sale
Vive la Canada. This country is not for sale.
First of all, let’s be clear. I am not a Canadian. While it is true that I was born just five miles from the Canadian border, in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, I never in my wildest imagination thought that I’d ever marry a Canadian. I mean, come on. They say “eh” at the end of every phrase, they sit on Chesterfields and they are so irritatingly… polite. Who can live with that?
Once I graduated from Michigan Tech, I headed west and eventually found myself in Salt Lake City, Utah, out of money and in need of a job. I was fortunate to find employment, and began dating and looking for Miss Right. Who could have imagined that I would find a Canadian girl? I mean, I had Idaho, Wyoming and Montana in between Canada and me, and those are very large states!
It started one Saturday with my joining several young men and women for a day of cross-country skiing. Out of nowhere, this little fireball plowed into me and knocked me down in the snow. “Are you are alright, eh?” she said. Did she say, “eh?” I must have had too much snow in my ears. As I brushed myself off and stood up, I found myself looking at her startling blue eyes and crooked smile. I was a dead man!
When I got up on Monday morning for work, and found my apartment door and my whole car bound in plastic wrap, I’ll admit I was intrigued. This girl was enticing, even if she was nationally challenged.
I found out that she was teaching elementary school in one of the rough parts of town, and that she had a tremendous love for her students. Wow, I thought. Depth and those blue eyes. Did I say I was a dead man?
I’ll admit that I was very interested, but I wasn’t ready to get too serious with any girl at that particular time. That is, until I found out that she was about to walk out of my life forever. As it turned out, she had a work visa to teach school that never should have been granted to her. About the same time that I found her, Uncle Sam also found her, and decided it was time to send her back across the border. That is, unless she could get her hands on one of those green cards.
I’ll be honest — I had to do a lot of soul searching in a big hurry. Should I take a leap of faith with this girl I had only know a few months? And a Canadian at that? My head was swimming… don’t rush things… but those blue eyes… there are plenty of other girls… what a sweet smile… she’s older than me… what a caring heart… but… but… she’s a Canadian!
So we made a deal. She would give me $10,000 to marry her. Then she would get her green card, allowing her the ability to live in the USA, we would get the marriage annulled, and I could use the money to buy a really nice new car. Perfect plan, eh?
So here we are twenty-nine years later in Boise, Idaho. She’s got her green card, but I’m still waiting to get my $10,000! I’m not letting her go until I get every penny! Through the years I’ve grown to truly love this wild Canadian woman, with her pretty eyes, big heart, and her patriotism — for Canada! She refuses to take out American citizenship, because, of course, she’s Canadian.
However, there are some perks. I’m one of the few people who get to celebrate two Thanksgivings each year, and she makes a great stuffed turkey! Our two children have dual citizenship, and hey, she’s still so darn… polite!
So a few years ago, I quit fighting it. I bought a large Canadian flag to fly from our house for those holidays from up North. I’ve learned to love vacations in beautiful British Columbia, and we love the traditional music of Cape Breton. I’m still not convinced that Smarties are better than M&Ms, but she is.
So hey, Blue Eyes. Slide on over next to me on the Chesterfield and I’ll put on some Celine Dion, eh?
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