Where Did You Say You Was From?

It's a queer feeling to spend some time in your native country and find that it has become foreign.

I walked down to the local grocery store yesterday to grab a few necessities and as I perused the aisles, I had a hard time picking out a single brand that was familiar to me any longer. Then, I stumbled upon the sweets aisle and in a blink, I was transported back to my childhood when cookies were the only reason for choking down overcooked spinach (eyes watering, gagging).

Dare cookies.

They are a little slice of nirvana. I can remember climbing up the formal dining room chairs to get the bags of cookies that were hidden on top of the china hutch. And yes, you can assume that there was an issue when parental units are forced to hide the sweets. And because I am nothing if not patriotic, I bought a bag of Dare Maple cookies to take back home.

Old Dutch Potato Chips.

You have not lived until you have burned off the inside of your mouth with their salt and vinegar offering. It's hard to find that flavour in the US. Dill pickle is another Canadian favourite. Of course, I haven't had a chip since 1987 and can't imagine being friendly with my bathroom scale in the foreseeable future so marching down nostalgia lane is an exercise in junk food frustration.

Did I mention the drugs? According to the current American administration, Canadian pharmaceuticals are of inferior quality because negotiating the cost with the manufacturer is madness, I tell you. Certifiable. Besides, who has time to bicker over price gouging when there are more important things to do like topple "rogue regimes". But I digress.....the drugs. Yes. In Canada, there are magic pills called two twenty twos (222's).



They are basically Tylenol 3's and they are available over the counter. Apparently, Canuks are responsible enough to handle a little caffeine and codeine without too much trouble. Since most Canadians have engaged in at least one of the national past times (the consumption of beer, contact hockey), 222's are as vital in the medicine cabinet as toothpaste.

I took my purchases up to the register and noticed that the cashier had a fairly thick Canadian accent. As I paid and exchanged pleasantries with her, she asked me how I was enjoying my visit.

"How did you know I was visiting?"

"Oh because of your accent," she answered.

This took me by surprise but I guess after fifteen years in another country, assimilation will take place. My knee jerk reaction was mild panic at the thought of losing the Canadian in me but after giving my head a shake, I realized that I get the best of both countries and who really gives a flip if I can no longer be identified by the way I talk.

I was once caught speeding in northern Michigan and the first thing the police officer said to me after I opened my mouth was, "You ain't from around here, are ya'?" Today, I'd have to ask him to define, "here" because for me, home has really become less concrete and more about where my hat is hanging.

O Canada!

Being a Canadian in the United States is nothing I think about much of the time. Sure, I talk differently than the natives in this area do but then again, so does most of the rest of the country.

My politics list to the left of center and I can't for the life of me believe that the framers of the constitution envisioned automatic weapons when they included the right to bear arms.

I speak metric and conversational French. I played hockey competitively and I am capable of laying you out flat against the boards. I love a cold, robust beer on a hot summer day. At Christmas time, we (my mother) make fruitcake but not that dark, grainy, foul kind. No, our cake is this light, buttery, melt-in-you-mouth delight that is prepared a month before it is served. My mother is probably working on one as we speak.

As a Canadian in America, I sometimes long for a few things native to my country. I miss our beer. I crave our chocolate. I yearn for over the counter codeine for that really stubborn hangover headache. Every time I fight with, swear at speak with my insurance company over a claim they refuse to pay, I get all misty and nostalgic for the free health care I once enjoyed.

Sometimes, I wonder what the heck I was thinking to move down here when I clearly stick out like a "Fargo" joke. And then April 15th comes. Each year, the American government allows me to DEDUCT my mortgage interest right off my gross income and for a split second, I am unable to even spell Canada.

The truth is that I am one of the most fortunate people on the planet. I get the best of both worlds.

As Canadians, we might not have a cohesive national identity but we sure have a sense of humour. Thanks to a friend for the video link.

Rain, rain, go away

Oh the rain.

It's incessant. I suppose that we don't have much to complain about when we compare ourselves with Texas or Kansas but if the sun doesn't come out soon, the crime rate is going to shoot up. Really. One can only go so long without that dose of vitamin D. You slowly lose that common sense compass, you know? I eyeballed my neighbor's paper this morning and seriously thought about making it my own. Sunshine people! We need sunshine!

Of course, it messes with tee times, which under normal circumstances would send me over the edge. But right now, it doesn't matter one hairy bit. I'm over that cliff. I did a big swan dive into mental instability when I woke up this morning and it was STILL effing raining AND my effing ulnar nerve was still compressed.

Then, there are the phone calls from my sweet boy. They go something like this:

"Hi Mum." ..said very softly with a big sigh.

"Hi sweetie. Did you have a good sleep?" I'm deliberately over the top cheerful in an attempt to purposely ignore the tone of his greeting.

"Yeah." ..and then another big sigh. I REFUSE to ask him what might be bothering him.

"Great! Have you had breakfast?" ...can you visualize me on the other end of the phone, staring into a mirror and smiling to make sure that I am projecting just the right level of insanely happy and well-balanced mom?

"Yes. Mom?"

Oh no. Here it comes.

"I'm bored."

It is at this point that my head detaches from my body in a blinding explosion because for the life of me, I cannot understand how a child with:
1000 channels of television
a Playstation (bazillion games)
a Nintendo DS (another bazillion games)
sketch pads, blank journals, crayons
markers, pencil crayons
enough Leggo to build a life size house
a bicycle
a scooter
golf clubs with foam balls and an enormous back yard
books and
neighbors HIS AGE

possibly cannot find something to keep him occupied.

When I was growing up (just after running water and electricity became available), we were like mini McGuyvers. All we needed for hours of unsupervised play was a stick, some sand or dirt and a few stones. We begged to stay out just ten minutes longer. On rainy days, we would gather at someone's house and send some lovely Stepford mother (not mine..she was too busy burning her bra) into the Koolaid and grilled cheese abyss.

So, being the excellent mother that I am, I tell my son that if he finds something to occupy himself for the next little while, I promise to take him and his sister to Canada for Christmas.

"We will have lots of family time and it will be really great. Okay sweetie? You can think about the trip when you are bored and it will cheer you up."

I hang up and wonder what the hell just happened.

Ah yes, the rain.

Well, now it is official. The commons sense compass has definitively gone south.

Canada Day

To all of my relatives in the north, Happy Canada Day.

I know that there are many people out there that think that this is the day that we gave the British the boot and declared ourselves an independent country. Nope. This holiday is the celebration of when the three colonies, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and the Province of Canada (Quebec and Ontario) entered into Confederation. The Hudson's Bay company owned some land which they ceded to the confederation in 1870. Then, two more colonies decided to join and presto, you have a nation. (Newfoundland was the last to join in 1949 but we will just ignore that little fact)

In 1868, the Governor General, seeing that July did not have at least one statutory holiday, decided that we should celebrate our one year anniversary as a nation. It was officially called, "Dominion Day". Does anyone remember the old Dominion grocery stores?

Anyway, it seems that nobody cared a lick about being a country, probably because we were still a British colony and the holiday was not officially observed by the government until 1958.
In 1982, "Dominion Day" was changed to "Canada Day" and there you have it.

One of the things that I really miss, since I live in the US, is Canada's handling of statutory holidays. If the holiday falls on the weekend, either the Friday before or the Monday after is observed as the day off. As a matter of fact, July 2nd is considered Canada Day if July 1st falls on a Sunday!!! Thanksgiving, Victoria Day and Labour Day are always on Mondays, thereby making the long weekend a staple feature of Canadian working life.

I love that Thanksgiving is in October because there is enough time between it and Christmas to serve turkey twice. By the time Christmas day comes around, Thanksgiving is a distant memory and seeing Aunt Betty smashed or Uncle Joe unzip his pants after dinner, well, it's like experiencing it for the first time.

I have been living in the US for 14 years now and one thing I can't seem to get used to is the fact that Good Friday and Easter Monday are not holidays down here. It is so strange that in a nation dominated by a Christian belief system, the day of crucifixion and the day of ressurection are not observed. Equally weird is that Veteran's Day (like the Canadian Remembrance Day) is marked with official ceremonies but not recognized as a national holiday. Looking back on American history since the turn of the century, it is hard to find a decade in which the military were not engaged. Where is the disconnect, here?

This year, the American Independence Day falls on a Wednesday...largely worthless from an employee's point of view. You see, the fireworks don't start until nightfall, which is after 9pm so the kids are up late, they are tired and cranky in the morning and .....you get the picture.

Anyhoo....Happy Canada Day! Enjoy the fireworks and your long weekend.