A Loyal American Ponders Leaving the Country

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"If that hadn't worked," Johnstone says. "I'd surely be back in the United States."

Even after all her years integrating into French culture, raising a family, and earning a living, Johnstone's still not really sure how she's managed. "I have been extraordinarily lucky -- enough to make up for my occasional foolhardiness," she says. "I think that a successful transfer into another country requires a lot of imagination and a mixture of will power and fatalism. You need to love the place you're going, even if it doesn't initially love you."

I'd like to be able to say I've gotten some clarity about whether to leave the country or not in the months that have passed since the United States annexed Baghdad, but I'm still swinging on that trapeze Johnstone mentions, balancing the allure of adventure with the comfort of the known. To be honest, there are wickedly difficult issues yet to be sorted out: How do Sharon and I balance our own dreams and motivations against those of our kids, for instance? Or against the needs of our extended families? At what point does this become an exercise in narcissism and selfishness?

We can argue, of course, that it's our concern for Martin's future that's the most energizing force behind this thinking about expatriating; if the draft and possible military service weren't looming so large we wouldn't even be talking about it. And, yet, I wonder whether even that bit of motivation isn't somehow skewed. Though he's made it abundantly clear that he has no interest in being coerced into military service (or forced against his will to do anything), he is only 13 years old. He could wind up enlisting in the Marines. It's his decision, after all.

Meanwhile, our daughter, Nora, is dreaming of college, hanging out with her soccer pals, and embarking on an ambitious career as a horse trainer/novelist/veterinarian. Can she do that in Canada? In France?

These are not questions I can take to the Canadian consulate. So I ask Robin Pascoe, who chuckles knowingly. "It all sounds cool when you're sitting around your kitchen table," she says. "But, then, you're sitting around your kitchen table."

The alternative to leaping blindly off that trapeze, she says, is to volunteer for one of the dozens of humanitarian programs abroad. Get a small dose of the expat life in a way that also helps you feel you're doing something good in the world. You don't have to sell the house and say good-bye to a grieving network of friends and family. You're just going away for a while -- an experience, a lark, whatever.

And after that, who knows? Like Johnstone says, this isn't something you can completely plan out. Besides, maybe Bush will lose in November, and we can forget about the whole thing.

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