Welcome, welcome

It was during the Autumn of 2015 that we found ourselves at the border of Canada and the United States. It was my second time leaving the country. Ashley had coordinated procuring our passports some three years earlier, and those little booklets literally opened-up the world to us.

So, there we were, in our car at the checkpoint. The official who looked-over our passports was nice. He asked how long we thought we might be in Canada, and what we were there for (not suspiciously, just politely matter-of-fact). We answered, and were on our way. The return was a little different. Upon re-entering the U.S., a different official was terse, a slight air of distrust about him. It was not a welcoming experience, though we were eventually let through without issue.

The aforementioned encounters are purely personal and anecdotal, but they stood out to me in their contrast, and I am sometimes reminded of them when reading about the ongoing issues surrounding immigration (illegal or otherwise). I've long had trouble with how strict our immigration policy has become over the last century, and am frankly sickened by the treatment of human beings coming to the U.S. looking for a better life.

Look, I get the notion of borders. It would seem to be human nature to be territorial, and to divide-up certain areas for ourselves. I get that. But then why do we apply it so randomly? Like, at a certain level, it would seem perfectly reasonable to be strict. For example, our homes. If we're enjoying an evening within the four walls of our house or apartment, and then some folks smash a window and crawl through, we'd be alarmed. They may tell us of how they're tired, and hungry, and need food. We may at that point assess the situation, potentially opting to help them, but would probably agree that there are better ways for them to have approached us. Same as if you found someone hiding in your closet.

Our homes, therefore, are inviolate. But what of something larger? A thought I often have is how our municipalities, big and small, are so unlike our nation when it comes to the free flow of people. And that's a key to their success. Same goes for our states. Can you imagine how it would be if, say, every time we wanted to leave our town we had to stop at a checkpoint? Whenever we wanted to visit Chicago, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Denver, etc. we had to show paperwork and state our reason for venturing there? It would put a chill on travel or, at the very least, create a whole other level of bureaucratic red tape for people to deal with.

I tend to look upon moving around from country-to-country in much the same way as journeying from one town or city or state, to the next. 'But countries are different,' I can hear several of you proclaiming. My question would be why? And, 'Because they just are,' isn't a good enough answer. Granted, countries often have a different set of rules than cities and states do, but then maybe we should review those rules? Are such regulations assets or an encumbrance? Why do embrace a relatively easy nomadic way of life on one level, a positively rigid version on another?

There's a lot to consider when it comes to immigration, but my personal view is that it should be much less complicated -- and much more humane -- than what it is now. If I want to drop everything and move to, say, Cleveland, then I can certainly do that. If I work and live there, I'm a resident. Doesn't matter how or when I arrived. Seems simple, no? And no one's going to put me in a cage because I arrived there without permission. My God, how did we even get to this point?