5 Things I Don’t Understand About America Because I’m Canadian
This election isn’t really about Trump
When I worked as a submissions editor for an indie publisher, I accepted a book I’ve never forgotten. Some stories never leave you.
A memoir of one man coming to America. As a little boy, he was left to fend for himself. In Africa. He starved, most days, little belly distended from hunger more often than not. I couldn’t stop reading.
As a teen, he won the ability to go to Canada for a competition. He had every intention of winning his way there, and no intention of going back home.
That kid, still just a boy, won the competition, won the trip and went to Canada with his school — and then smuggled himself across the border.
Hanging on for dear life underneath a semi-trailer as it crossed the border.
To America. The land of opportunity.
He was scared, he said. Terrified. But the only thing scarier was going back to the life waiting for him in Africa.
How could I not publish that?
I don’t normally write about politics. I write about writing. Marketing. Humanity, and opportunity.
