When you’ve lived in America for over fifty years, any evidence of reasonable sanity encountered in a foreign culture can seem … foreign. Everything may look reasonably similar – the place has cars and shops and functioning gravity – but then you run smackdab into some affordable healthcare or an educational TV show, and reality becomes distorted. It’s like the uncanny valley of visiting one’s grandmother only to find Sophia Loren dressed in Grandma’s yoga pants instead. It feels familiar – the hard candies and copies of Guideposts are still there on the coffee table – but the mind struggles to accept this shapely anomaly in the space ordinarily filled with Meemaw.
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