By Liisa Berg

A friend returning from a long stint overseas expresses her outlook about as well as anyone repatriating. Her kids grew up in various countries with varied cultures, and find it hard to return to a homogeneous and homogenous society in the States. She writes:

"I have learned that the 'American way of life' simply means you live in your car. Like most moms here, I spend a lot of time playing chauffeur. My adjustments have been small but varied—I am especially overwhelmed by the grocery stores, and the fact that the clerks empty the cart, ring up the items, someone bags them, carries them out to the car, and says things in English like 'Y'all have a nice day, honey.' I have learned that McDonald's have two drive-up windows, Sears discontinued their catalog a decade ago, and network news shows suppose that nothing happens in the world except for what happens in the States.

"Our daughter has made trips to Seattle, Mesa and San Francisco—she would really like to go to places like Bangkok, Sydney or Paris, but cities in the States will have to do for now. She was happy to skip the US public school experience and is now attending a college in nearby Transylvania County. (She points out that that is a county in our state, not in Romania.) For her birthday, she went back to Budapest for a visit. She has also saved enough money to go to South Africa to see her best friend. She hopes to attend a college in England. You might think she does not like it here.

"We always had a lot of family time together overseas, and that has been harder to find here. The general quality of life in the States seems to be measured by how busy you are, the number of movies you've seen, and the size of your vehicle. Life overseas was often weird, but not this intense. On the other hand, many things are much simpler here (the kids say to read that as 'boring')—we can understand all the mail that comes to the house; we don't have to convert currency; and driving is no longer a minute-by-minute adventure. On the good side, of course, are the parking lots, Wal-Mart, and postage stamps that peal and stick. But then again, the thrill of opening a box of American cereal is gone. Even though we complained about a lot of things overseas, we find those things are what we miss. The scene outside our driveway gate was of a busy, noisy, dirty street—that part I never did like. But the first week here, we woke up from the quiet at night: no car alarms going off, no dogs barking, no Trabants back-firing . . . The most excitement we've had here was during the spring when the neighbor's cows came over to our fence and said, 'Moo!' Life without constant airplane scheduling feels a little empty right now, but we'll be fine, just like we have always been, no matter where in the world our moves have taken us."