Trump

Years ago I was at my Swiss accountants. All he wanted to do was talk about Monica and Bill.

Eventually we did get around to my taxes.

Today I had three doctor's appointments.

No matter how often I tell someone I am only Swiss, the minute I open my mouth in French or English, they assume I am American. I have not lost 48 years of Bostonian accent in either language.

However, today I had three appointments with three different doctors from three different specialties. One was a Serbian/Swiss, one was Macedonian and the third was French/Swiss.

I was there for a review of my lady parts, bones and general insides.

And the main topic of discussion was not my lady parts, bones or general insides.

What was?

Clue: the photo.

There was clear worry  that he might be president. What did I think. They were not reassured when I said "Yes, I do think it is possible."

"What is wrong with your country?" came up at some point from all three.

I left the US in 1990. For a long time I could explain the US to Europeans and to a certain degree now I can explain Europeans to Americans. Now I can only do the later.

I do not understand the country of my birth. All I could say, "Ce n'est pas ma faute. Je ne suis plus americane. It isn't my fault. I'm no longer American.