Good Riddance: Hanging On to the Meaning of Home
A trip to Canada, rethinking the geography of living, and bagels that slap (as the kids say).
For new and old friends alike: Welcome to our weekly series, Good Riddance, a place to gather in the comments and share something we’re letting go of, saying goodbye to, or working on ridding ourselves of, however big or small.
Last week, I took a last-minute trip to join my husband, David Cross, in Canada. He was there for his standup comedy tour, The End of The Beginning of The End, which was taking him through two of my favorite cities: Montréal and Toronto. We’ve both spent a good amount of time in Canada; we even lived in Toronto for about six months in 2021 while I shot the television show, Y: The Last Man. Though the city was under pretty strict stay-at-home orders during much of our time there due to the COVID-19 pandemic, we still found many ways to fall in love with the city, its food, and its people. When the opportunity arose to return this past week, I jumped at the chance for an impromptu romantic getaway with my current husband.
Left: Olivia Thirlby and I used to order this mortadella sandwich from Bar Piquette when we worked together on Y: The Last Man while living in Toronto, and I almost sobbed when I was reunited with its meaty-goodness.
Right: I am having an affair with this toasted sesame Montréal bagel and will not be taking questions at this time, thank you.
Our first stop was Montréal, where David and I walked for miles enjoying the cold, crisp Canadian air (emphasis on cold) until we arrived at St-Viateur Bagel to stuff our faces full of their famous bagel sandwiches. Afterwards, we walked along Sainte-Catherine Street for some window shopping and people watching. The following day we arrived in Toronto. It was David’s day off, and without a show that evening, we had the whole day and night to ourselves. We walked around the city for hours, passing our old house and reminiscing about the months spent there with our daughter, Marlow. We took the buses back and forth down Queen Street then ate at an amazing restaurant called Imanishi before stumbling back to our hotel with full bellies and tipsy bodies, the chaos and terror of watching fascism rise back home briefly out of our minds for the day.
Like many Americans in the wake of a second term under Donald Trump, I’ve been thinking a lot about what a healthy life for myself and my family can and should look like—mentally and physically—and whether living in the United States continues to be part of that plan. We are, supposedly, the greatest nation on Earth, except we have one of the worst healthcare systems in the world; the most school shootings by massive margins; the highest maternal mortality rate among high-income countries; and are one of only seven countries in the world that do not have federally mandated paid maternity leave. I mean, what’s not to love about raising a family here? (She said, with bone-chilling rage coursing through her.)
About a year ago, I read a powerful essay by Kirsten Powers about how the way we live in the U.S. is not normal. I’ve been thinking about it again recently, and I would guess that there are many of us who feel this same way. Late-stage capitalism and the grind of 40+ hour work weeks and multiple jobs for compensation that no longer covers the cost of living is not normal. Paying out-of-pocket costs for insulin to the tune of thirteen hundred dollars a month is not normal. Democratic leadership caving to the Republican budget bill is, unfortunately, normal, but the toddler of a narcissistic billionaire seemingly telling the President of the United States (another narcissistic billionaire) to “shush [his] mouth” is most definitely not normal.
While Powers really walked the walk and moved out of the country to Italy, it has felt like an impossibility to me for a variety of reasons, including that I love this mess of a country and believe in fighting for it. And yet…what’s that they say about if you love something, you should let it go?
As I flew into Canada from New York, I thought to myself: I could live here. I really could. To even consider the possibility of moving abroad is a privilege in and of itself, of course. And while I know this trip sounds more like a vacation than insight into actually living there, it did open a door I had previously kept shut to what it would look like—what it could possibly feel like—to no longer call America home. I let go of the idea that the United States must be my forever home and allowed myself the freedom to imagine what living abroad could mean for our family. It’s not to say we’re doing it, but it is to say that I’m opening my heart and mind to the idea.
This week I’m letting go of the notion that I could never belong anywhere else, that my identity is wrapped up entirely in geography, that everything I am or any of us are is tied wholly to just one specific place.
And you, my friends? What are you letting go of or saying goodbye to or thinking about releasing this week?
For your calendars, I have a few exciting events (both virtual and in person) happening this month:
Five Things I’ve Learned, March 18, 8pm ET (virtual): Join me for this live, two-hour conversation with Matthew Zapruder and discover the Five Things I’ve Learned about how to harness our emotions into the full force of our creative work—and how to put all that we’re feeling about the state of the world to good use. Click here for tickets and more info.
The Short and Sweet on March 20, 12pm ET (virtual): Our next edition of The Short and Sweet, our monthly creative and cathartic gathering live over Zoom for paid subscribers will take place on Thursday, March 20th from 12pm-1pm ET. We’ll be joined by my ethically-minded and brilliant friend, journalist, founder of the newsletter The.Ink, and NYT bestselling author of The Persuaders,
. We’ll talk politics, fighting fascism in America, and what we need to do next. The Zoom link will be emailed to paid subscribers about thirty minutes before the start of the Zoom.
AWP Awards Reception, March 26, 6:30pm PT (Los Angeles, CA): If you’re planning on attending the AWP conference this month in Los Angeles, I’ll be hosting their Awards Reception & Benefit for LA Fire Recovery on Wednesday, March 26. Come say hello if you’re there! Tickets are $15 by suggested donation. For one of our paid subscribers, I’m saving a seat just for you! Email us at LITDsubstack@gmail.com (include your full name) and I'll make sure you get a seat at the gala. Click here for more info.
I admit, we have seriously talked about where we could move if needed. But, I really can't see it happening. My parents won't leave, my in-laws won't leave. They stand to lose healthcare coverage. We need to stay so we're here when they need us.
I love our home. I love our school. I love my friends who have become family. Leaving isn't really an option. Not when we have privilege to stand up for the people around us who are going to need it.
I'm working really hard on letting go of fear around all of that because my instinct, especially when I think about my kids, is to run. Far away. So I am constantly reminding myself of the community I'm building here at home, the people who feel like me. We're making emergency plans, we're stocking our pantries to help neighbors, we're keeping lines of communication wide open.
So we stay. And I need to let go and accept.
“PITY THE NATION”
Lawrence Ferlinghetti (After Khalil Gibran) 2007
Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerors
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture
Pity the nation that knows
No other language but its own
And no other culture but its own
Pity the nation whose breath is money
And sleeps the sleep of the too well fed
Pity the nation oh pity the people
who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away
My country, tears of thee
Sweet land of liberty!