I’ve been living outside the States for coming up on 30 years.
The truth is, I’ve never felt more American than I do today.
I called Baltimore, Maryland, home until I was 35 years old. Growing up, I never thought about what it meant to be American. I took it for granted.
Every year since I left Baltimore, I’ve been more aware of my American-ness.
Lief and I lived in Ireland for seven years, long enough to acquire our Irish passports, and our son was born in Waterford… but we’re not Irish… not really.
After Ireland, we were in Paris for four years. Both our children think of that city as home. It’s where our blended family bonded, where my son, Jackson, started school, and from where my daughter, Kaitlin, left our nest to start college.
We still have the apartment where we four lived together. It’s one of our home bases. In that apartment we store plastic tubs containing school report cards and gifts the kids made us for Mother’s and Father’s days. Indeed, everywhere we look in those 112 square meters brings back memories from when our children were young.
We’re very connected to Paris, but we’re surely not French.
In Panama, where we’ve been based for nearly 20 years, as in Ireland and in Paris, we’ve put down roots. We have friends, our children have friends…
Our Live And Invest Overseas HQ is in a big old house in Panama City’s El Cangrejo neighborhood. We have an apartment on Avenida Balboa and a house on Panama’s Azuero coast where we’re creating a private oceanfront community of like-minded souls at Los Islotes.
We’re in Panama for the long haul… but we’ll never be Panamanian.
No… we’re American, from our accents to our Levi’s… from Lief’s Stetson to my fondness for fresh corn on the cob on a hot July afternoon.
And we’re undoubtedly American in less obvious ways, too.
I’d say that, when I sit down in a business meeting anywhere in the world, no one else at the table is uncertain of my origins. I could be negotiating the cost of an apartment for sale in Tavira… considering an investment in Panama City… meeting with a new writer in Paris… or discussing residency visa options with an attorney in Santo Domingo…
On the other end of the conversation is a Portuguese, a Panamanian, a Frenchman, a Dominican… what have you. I’m the American. And to the discussion I bring the American perspective.
The longer I’m outside the States, the greater has grown my appreciation for what that means and also for how unique the American viewpoint is.
The rest of the world doesn’t think like we Americans think. That’s neither good nor bad. It just is. And it creates opportunities.
I have the chance, every time I engage with a non-American anywhere in the world, to learn from his ways… and to leverage mine.
We Americans are the world’s optimists. We believe in ourselves and in our collective ability to figure things out… to make things better… to make things work. We’re certain we can… when everyone else is sure we can’t.
Americans are dreamers. We see what something could be more than what it happens to be right now. What’s before us is only a place to start.
And we’re wanderers. What’s over the next hill or around the next bend in the road? Let’s go have a look, we can’t help but suggest.
We value hard work, we like efficiency, and we pride ourselves on our willingness to act on opportunity when we perceive it.
What could we do tomorrow that we didn’t do yesterday… we wonder as we lie awake at night. Let’s get up early in the morning and find out.
How can we make this thing, this idea, this effort better? Let’s roll up our shirtsleeves and see where a little elbow grease leads us.
Those are American sentiments. Wherever we travel in the world, whoever we encounter, personally or in business, these are the attitudes we bring to the conversation.
So, yes, I’d say that, living overseas in 2026, I feel more American than ever.
In a good way.
Happy Independence Day.
Until next time,
Founding Publisher, Overseas Opportunity Letter
