Red, White and Falafel?

January 2007. B and I attend the naturalization ceremony that makes us U.S. citizens. B claims she has bittersweet feelings about the experience. Frankly with her busy schedule, I wonder if she has time to reflect on the import of switching sides.

We are invited to assemble at St. Dominic's school in Delhi (the one in Cincinnati, that is) to receive our certificates. It turns out to be quite an affair with a large number of new citizens, most of them from, you guessed it, India. The school's choir sings patriotic songs and the judge waxes eloquent on democracy and extols the virtues of freedom. Bit of a waste on Indians, don't you think? A colleague from work in attendance describes the ceremony aptly as being corny. The Enquirer's coverage just reinforces that.

Since we had taken half of the day off we decide to celebrate with lunch. One would think that having just been indoctrinated into Americana we would be inclined to go for hamburgers (ok, a veggie burger for B, a chicken sandwich for me). Instead we head to Andy's Mediterranean Grille. After all it is a free country.