...a bomb hidden in a shoe.

I've been away. For three weeks. Even to a 'foreign' country. To Canada. When I returned to the U.S. at the point of entry, it felt more like entering the real foreign country. The way I was treated by American border guards. They were annoyed with me. Because I didn't have my passport with me. Never had to have a passport before. Just to visit Canada. Anyway, the Canadians welcomed me. Told me to have a nice time. And I did. Didn't even think of it as a foreign country. My mistake. But now as a U.S. citizen I'm supposed to think of Canadians as foreigners. But I think they are Americans. North Americans. Like the rest of us. And I feel more at home in Canada than I would in gawd-forsaken Texas, for instance. I'm told at the Texas border, "Don't mess with Texas.' Rather ominous. Yes, I know it's merely an anti-litter campaign. But still, I think it carries a double meaning. Don't mess with the U.S. Carry your passport. That is, if you want to return to the U.S. I do. Yes, in order to deal with our widespread national paranoia. I feel as if I've lost my freedom. To travel. Out and about in the world. I must have proper documentation. And ample reason to travel. After all, I could be a terrorist. We're all under suspicion. Even the elderly grandma who's required to take her shoes off as she barefoots her way through airport security. She might have a bomb hidden in a shoe. --Jim Broede