Editor’s Note: As St. Lawrence County residents celebrate the anniversary of America’s independence from England this weekend, Canton resident Rev. Janet B. LaCroix, who was born in England, looks back on her journey to U.S. citizenship. She originally wrote this article in 1960, ten years after she moved with her family to the U.S. at age 11. She became a U.S. citizen in 1962, and for 31 years served as a United Methodist Church pastor in northern New York. She and her husband, Robert, are retired and moved from West Potsdam to Partridge Knoll in Canton in May 2014.

By REV. DR. JANET B. LaCROIX

A very important question faces a person when changing citizenship from one country to another: he or she might ask, “Do I not like my mother country?” “Where I drew my first breath?” “A country with rich heritage?”

These questions and all their implications have real bearing upon this writer since she will soon change citizenship. The question, which I may ask most, is why?

Am I doing it because my parents did? Because I believe that America is a better place than England? Because I’ll pay taxes next year so I might as well? Because people expect me to do it?

It’s a combination of these and more that I have yet to know.

Coming to this country when I was eleven and not having really lived in England for almost two years, because my father was a Chaplain in the British Army, and after World War II was sent to Greece and the family followed.

It was in Greece that I met Americans and thought “they talk funny.” As I looked back, I remembered watching the coronation of Elizabeth II, and the wedding of Princess Margaret with avid appetite, and defending the royalty against American ignorance of the meaning of it.

I also remember as a child standing on the street with hoards of other children jockeying for the best place and being under the keen eyes of the teachers. Princess Margaret finally came by in the back of a closed car. I don’t know what I expected, but the glint of her I saw didn’t look different from other people.

One question on the sheet a citizen-to-be must swear to is allegiance to the United States, to fight for her against all enemies even that person’s land of birth. I do not see a war between England and America during my lifetime.

The problem I have to overcome becoming a citizen of another country is that one does not need to totally reject one’s native country. I, for instance, can still be proud of heritages: English (my father) and Welsh (my mother) and a little bit of Norwegian while becoming an American citizen.

It seems to me most Americans are proud of their heritages.

Looking at the whole question more objectively, I see I have lived in the United States ten years and England only eight. During this time in America, I have reaped more rewards and benefits.

I have attended seventh and eighth grades in Brewster, Cape Cod, ninth and tenth grades in Orleans, Cape Cod, eleventh and twelfth in Chelmsford, Massachusetts. I also had one year at Colby College in Maine, and three years at the Baptist Missionary Training School in Chicago.

Now I am the Director of Christian Education for the First Baptist in New Albany, Indiana.

Besides this tangible education, there is more I have gained that cannot be measured so easily. My perspective of life has been widened.

I have met many people and different kinds of people who come together in this country. I have seen the expanse of space; I have seen the Great Lakes, Niagara Falls, crossed the Mississippi. I have lived in historic Massachusetts, seen Plymouth Rock and Concord Bridge.

I discovered the date we landed at Boston was the same date the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, only around 330 years later. I have been in Maine in the winter and St. Louis in the summer, lived in the impersonal metropolis of Chicago.

It was in the United States I was baptized, and here decided what my life work was to be. Here I have heard the world sighing as some of its people find relief from their sufferings. Here also, I have seen ingratitude of people and am reminded of a few lines from Shakespeare:

“Blow, blow thou winter wind

Thou art not so unkind

As man’s ingratitude.”

Then there is always the materialistic side, the owning of luxuries which in due time become necessities.

The automobile: I remember as a child being squashed in my father’s Austin Six, and now there is loads of room in my Chevrolet Station Wagon. There are washing machines, television, air conditioning, and the food.

As a little girl in England during World War II, I would go next door to my grandmother, and look forward to sometimes getting one chocolate covered cookie and think I was in heaven. Now I can go to the store and buy as many as I want, but they don’t taste the same.

Holidays are celebrated differently: at Christmas, Santa Clause comes instead of Father Christmas; Thanksgiving is one of the best inventions of Americans. There is something intrinsic about sitting down with family and friends around a turkey, remembering the history of this great country.

As I look back there are some reasons more than ever why I should be glad to be a part of this country; I am glad that so