Reflections: What I Miss about the U.S. & What I Don’t

Ju and I have lived in Quillan for almost three years now. Before I go on, we love it here and would not return to Michigan or any other place we called home. But at times I reflect about a few things that we experienced in the States that cannot be duplicated in France. In fairness, I feel that equal time should be given to the things I don’t miss as well. Let’s begin.

I miss corn on the cob at summer gatherings. Picking up a whole ear roasted on an open fire, slathering it with butter and digging in either down the length of the ear or around it leaves a yellowed smile. Toothpicks become a required addition to the picnic basket. Some less experienced eaters choose to insert a spiked holder in each end but that signals rank amateurism. From June to September, piles of the stuff adorn roadside stands, markets and supermarkets. Somehow corn out of a can just doesn’t cut it.

I miss Doozie’s. Mt Pleasant, MI is home to the number one ice cream parlor in the state. Retired teacher Dooz has had lines out to the main highway waiting to break diets and resolutions by splurging on the variety of sinful creations for years. Italy has gelato, but Doozie has perfected soft serve and it is the basis for untold heavenly creations. No inside seating - only a few picnic tables. I have known friends that run four miles to burn off calories for no other purpose than an evening stop at Doozie’s.

I miss being able to eat at a restaurant or café whenever hunger strikes. My job as a coach required late night bus rides. Parents provided sandwiches after games for the players, but sharing with sweaty seventeen-year-olds at the end of a gym never was inviting. Instead, late night half-priced appetizers at Applebee’s served as date night for Jules and me. Queso with tortilla chips, wings with spicy Asian sauce and a tall Bud was a go-to. While I’m on the topic, I miss good Mexican food presented by first or second generation immigrants. Brits have curry, thanks to a large Indian population. There are many good choices; my favorite is ‘Papa’s and Beer’ in Simpsonville, SC.

I planned to say I miss donuts, but Marciel at the boulangerie hit the mark on International Donut Day. Dunkin Donuts: eat your heart out.

I miss our kids and grandchildren. Julie and I raised them to be independent; they responded by scattering from Nebraska to Vermont. They are all doing well. We FaceTime with them regularly, but our Canadian fishing trip, which was to bring all together in July, was a victim of the virus.

There are many things that I do not miss. I must limit the list to a few examples - I don’t want this to challenge a novel in length. I don’t miss taxes and tips. In France, the price of anything includes the terrible “T’s”. A meal in the US requires a calculator to determine the price when local and state taxes add six to ten percent and the expected tip is 20%. An eighteen dollar steak actually will cost closer to $23. That makes a 25 euro three course menu a bargain.

I don’t miss how restaurants rush you through a meal so another party can occupy your table. I also HATE waiters and waitresses who bother customers with “How is it tasting”. In France if you are seated, the table is yours.

I don’t miss prepackaged meats. If I want burger, Chez Richard provides freshly ground hache. If I need a thick steak or chop for the grill, I tell monsieur how thick. I don’t worry about how long it’s been in the display case.

I don’t miss overpriced wine, beer and drinks. Nothing worse than trying to find a decent wine for under $15 in America. We are spoiled and I love it. I do miss good MI brew pub Porters, but the Flying Pig comes close.

I don’t miss the medical system and drug companies. The French system is much more competent and certainly more reasonably priced. Corporations control the political scene in the US and the big pharmaceutical ones are among the most aggressive. Therefore drugs costing little here go for ten to twenty times as much. My Parkinson Disease pills are free here, but even with insurance they would be very expensive in the USA.

I don’t miss drivers who hog the left lane on interstates. Rarely in Europe do drivers passing others linger in the left lane. Lorry drivers are not guilty of pulling out to pass another on a hill, whereas in the US it seems like drivers of semis wait until you near their rig and then veer left and occupy the passing lane for minutes on end.

I don’t miss American cheese.

I don’t miss the brutalization of the English language. Ain’t dat da troot.

I don’t miss religious zealots who twist the Bible for their own designs.

I don’t miss Trump and his family and friends.