God Bless The U.S.A.

If you've been reading my last few blogs,it might have occurred to you that I'm a Canadian.You catch on quick.I happen to think that I live in the best country in the world,though it's a country not without it's faults.I may,or may not think that more at this time of year-Patriotic season.But it might also have occurred to you that,not being an American,I have a rather low opinion of America.And you would be very,very wrong.

A few centuries of sharing the same continent have made Canadians and Americans brothers.It is as simple as that.There is a considerable amount of history between our two countries,and not all of it is positive.Let me review it in very simplified fashion.After all I'm hardly a History professor.

Just a bit more about Canada and Canadians today before moving on to write about my American friends tomorrow on their national holiday.

I see I have a few readers in such far flung places as Iran and Russia.Thanks for taking the time to read my blog and I hope you will be a bit more informed about Canada for the effort.

It's said that most people who live in Canada live within a couple of hundred miles of the American border,so that we all tend to be strung out along a few thousand miles of border.Certainly almost all of our larger cities are very close the the American border.And,living in Calgary in the western part of Canada,I am quite typical in that respect.The same was true for the many years I lived in Moncton,as it to is within about two hundred miles of the border.I expect that this has some effect on us.We are a lot like Americans in many ways,except of course,you can buy good donuts here.Even the Americans think so.But we have a lot of contact with Americans,we speak the same language,many of us have family members who are American.And of course we all watch American TV.What would we ever do without American Idol or without CNN to tell us how the world really works?Well,we could watch CBC for a good laugh,or tune into The Red Green Show,when we want to be informed.Or is that the other way around?

Moncton is my home town,and it bears some mention because it has a kind of unique demographic.When I was growing up there were very few visible minorities in town,yet Moncton was quite ethnically mixed.In fact,you would notice the province of New Brunswick looks a bit like a square if you check out the map.If you were to divide that square from north west to south east,you would find very Francophone communities on the north and east side of the diagonal and very Anglophone communities(United Empire Loyalists) to the south and west.Moncton is cut right through the middle by that line and it's population reflects this.For the most part West Moncton is Anglophone and East Moncton and Dieppe is French.It has been known to cause tension at times,but seemingly more in the past than now.

Today I live in Calgary,nearly 5000 miles from my home town.Calgary is best known for it's Stampede,which this year celebrates it's 100th anniversary.Calgary Stampede is,of course a huge rodeo.More on that in a few days perhaps.What Calgary is also well known for is as a centre of the petroleum business and it is one of the very fastest growing cities in North America.That changes with the fortunes of oil,of course.

In between Calgary and Moncton,there are a lot of empty spaces.You see,while we are the second largest country on earth,we have a  population roughly equal to California.Much of the country is rural then.Much of the North,that part of Canada that is say,500 miles or more away from the American border is very sparsely populated and quite remote.It has a lot of Canada's resources though.And Canada is blessed with a wealth of resources.There's oil out west and the prairie provinces,are sometimes called the bread basket to the world.Many people live and work on farms in the western third of Canada,and wheat covers the land like a blanket.

Well,more Canadian Studies 101 in a few days.After an interlude to salute our neighbors to the south tomorrow.

But here are a few Canadian popular TV shows to keep you entertained,in case you can not tolerate tomorrows blog on all things American.

Canada Day

Today is Canada Day,Canada's national holiday-the 145th.Actually it wasn't called Canada Day until quite recently,having been called Dominion Day prior to that and celebrating our membership in the British Commonwealth.Our flag,the red Maple Leaf is relatively new as well.When it was introduced in the 1960's it was quite controversial and many people wouldn't display it, preferring the Union Jack or the old Canadian Ensign instead.Those days seem to have passed now judging from the number of small flags I see being worn about town.Many of the people who seem to be proudest of the flag would appear to be new Canadians,either African or Asian and especially their children.

Since it is Canada Day,I feel like I should,in some way write something of a reflective nature on my country.That seems kind of odd as I hope that I'm telling my readers something about Canada everyday I write.I think a lot of things about Canada,most everyday and most of them good.It just seems odd to set aside a special day for it.

Over the last three years I've made the round trip from Calgary to Moncton with a two year stop along the way in Toronto.I guess what really has become evident to me is that this a very large country.Not only in terms of area,but in terms of what ,and who is contained within it's boundaries.Almost everything you can imagine is here,almost every kind of landscape and nearly every kind of person,both in terms of nationality and belief or values.That alone is something to praise my country for.

As a rule,even with all our differences we are a very tolerant society and people get along much better than even I can believe.As a whole we are a very peaceful society and I guess that's why many immigrants seek to come here.Even in our larger cities I feel safe walking about,and though there is crime,it is low compared to our southern neighbours

Comparing ourselves to Americans is something we seem to do a lot.I wonder if the fact that our patriotic holidays are so close together has anything to do with that.Our histories are very different as are our societies in contemporary terms.I've heard it said that a Canadian is "just an American with health care and no guns.There is some truth to that,as cynical as it may seem.As a whole we are a more liberal country,even when we have conservative leadership as we do now.We are also less militaristic,though,especially recently we do support our troops.

I have not spent every Canada Day in Calgary.When we were young we would usually spend the day in Pugwash,Nova Scotia,half a world away from here,and such a different place.Pugwash would have a Gathering Of The Clans on Canada Day,and my father would never miss it if he wasn't working.It really was more a celebration of being Scottish,than being Canadian and the day would be filled with piping and highland dance competition.After dark they would have a fireworks display out over the harbour and the Canadian Coast Guard would usually have a ship available in port for touring.I missed the celebration in Pugwash the last time I was back east in 2009.My sister went,but I walked into downtown Moncton and caught the celebrations there instead.

Today started off with a half drunken display by a woman dancing around in a Dr.Suess type hat and trying to hug everyone who she met.Not all were receptive,though she seemed in good spirits.Usually celebrations are low key.There will be a lot of people about town and in the parks and there will be fireworks tonight.The wearing of all things red is very fashionable as is the waving of small flags,but on the whole we are a lot more subdued in our patriotism than Americans.That seems to be changing though.Patriotism seems to be much more ion evidence than it did when I was younger.

Sometimes,of course,celebration involves stupidity or the excessive use of alcohol or both.A few years ago I walked by a house in the Victoria Park district of Calgary at about 7p.m. and noticed that they seemed to have gotten an early start on Canada Day celebrations.They were drinking on a upper balcony and were very loud and obviously drunk.The next morning I heard about the house fire and I knew exactly which house it would be.It seems that at about midnight someone got the idea to set off the fireworks in celebration.But,they got the idea to do this indoors,without the benefit of an open window.The next day I walked by and sure enough it was the party house from the day before.I got to see what 40 or 50 years of"can't fix stupid"looks like.But for the most part Canada Day is a fine summer celebration.It really is a celebration of so many different things,as Canada is more a mix of cultures spread out over a huge area.Yet we all celebrate on this day,and we are all Canadian and proud to be so.

memoir writers homework/nostalgia

As a memoir writer,I love all things having to do with nostalgia,because,really,where would we be without it.Nostalgia is one of those concepts that is going to send me looking for the dictionary as soon as I'm through with this write on demand exercise.Of course I have a good idea as to what it means.Its just the precision of the words meaning that seems to elude me.In my mind,it means to be homesick,not just for a place,but usually for a past time as well.It also carries the connotation of being perhaps overly sentimental and not as realistic about that time or place as you might otherwise be.

I believe it was Thomas Wolf,a writer from North Carolina who once said"you can never go home again",or words to that effect.I always wondered what exactly he meant by that,because,obviously,I could hop on a plane or into my car and arrive at the place where I grew up and called home in a matter of hours.Such a view is,I think,unique to those who are young and foolish and haven't put much thought into the ways of the world.Of course I could go home.The only thing is,home was not the same place and really had only taken very few years to change.I left home for a reason.It had a lot to do with economic reality,but also about the perception that people where I lived were mean spirited and I wanted to be away from them.Through the years I carried around a lot of my own,mostly unreasonable prejudices about Moncton.I suppose I though there was more excitement in the big city too.Most young people do.Then,after a few years,or maybe only months,nostalgia comes to call and I want to go home.To the home I thought I knew that is.But it's so very different.Not so many of the old friends still around.All the old hang outs are occupied by a younger crowd.I got to thinking I could live there again and it seemed like a great idea when I was living far away,but I get home,and it's wonderful for a few weeks,then I'm ready to leave again. I visit all my old friends and they become fewer and fewer all the time,not because they are passing,but because,like the place itself,they've changed,and so have I.I walk across the old covered bridge at Hartland,the worlds longest,stick my feet in that wonderful old stream I used to wade in when I was a pre -schooler and pick up a stone from it's bottom.That stone has worn a hole in my pocket now.That's nostalgia.

Home has changed too much.Maybe that's just the thoughts of an old man.There used to be a road that cut up through the heart of New Brunswick.It was the main road when I was growing up,and we would take it from our home to my grandparents place 200 miles away.You would travel through woods and meadows,up hills and along the river bottom below Fredricton,where huge trees grew in the river.But now that road is gone,replaced by a straight,wide road that cuts in a line from east to west.You can get there in much less time,but you never get to see any of the countryside.It's ruined my home.Nostalgia.

Walking up the street towards the old school,there is a little girl in pigtails.A very ordinary young lady.It makes me think,there really is only one thing in my home town that has not changed very much in all these many years.

memoir writers homework/security.

Security meant something very different when I was growing up in the 60's and 70's than it does today.Today we think about things that would  rarely,if ever,have crossed our minds back then.Security,when I was small meant that I had a home that had two parents and that I could trust that they had the best interests of my siblings and I in mind in everything they did.We had a home and food and a bed with warm blankets.When I share experiences with some of my friends it also seems to have meant that I had no worry for some of the things that befell them.For instance,a good friend of mine and her family became homeless when their father lost their home in a poker game.So far as I know,neither of my parents did anything that would put us in that kind of danger and for that I am grateful.

We played outside until dark even when I was very young and no one had any great worry.We were told not to talk to strangers,of course,but then,in my home town there seemed to be very few strangers about.Most of the people I met,I knew.Seldom,if ever did we lock our front doors.If some family member,or close friend came to visit while you were out at the store,especially if they were from out of town,you wanted them to be able to come in,make something to eat and wait for your return in comfort.It was the way in Atlantic Canada in those days.Never did we experience a break-in or robbery.Crime rates were very low.

Today,I still know people who leave their door open to welcome guests,though it's much more rare.In Toronto or Calgary there seems to be a preoccupation with home security.We never knew that in Moncton,for most of the time I was growing up.I suppose it's necessary in the larger cities.There came a time though,when I was in grades eight and nine,that our sense of security was severely tested.Just before Christmas in 1974,two policemen were killed in the line of duty.It had the whole town in a state of fear for a few days,but two suspects were quickly arrested,tried and initially sentenced to hang.They were among the last people ever to be sentenced to death in Canada,but their sentences were commuted.

Barely had that incident passed-in fact it was about six months later-when something else unheard of happened.A seven year old girl disappeared from in front of her house and was never seen again.I had a four year old sister.Everyone in town seemed to think that the world was going to Hell in a hand basket.Two sensational and very high profile crimes in less than a year was unheard of in that part of the country.Things were worse here than in Toronto,and there was beginning to be a bit of a blood lust for law breakers.It was a kind of loss of innocence for Moncton as a community.People talked of doing ugly things to anyone caught in the act of committing a crime,even a very small one.That,for me was the bigger loss of security because I began to see a very nasty side to some neighbours that I thought I knew.A thought crossed my mind:evil things happen because people lack or lose their civility.

When I visited home in 2006,I noticed how careful my sister was about locking the doors when she went out.I guess times had changed.Once too,there used to be whole swarms of children walking to the school I used to attend.But by then,the swarm had become a trickle.And not because there were fewer children.One morning ,I took a walk and noticed that a great many kids were being dropped off at the school house door by parents in SUVs.Unheard of in my day!

memoir writers homework/an accident.

Writers note:at memoir group,this entry and the one before it seem to have been undertaken in reverse order.Luck of the draw.But I've presented them here in this order for largely literary reasons which I hope will be obvious.Creative license.


There is really only one accident that comes to my mind these days.It was needless in the sense that my mother should never have been there.She loved her grandchildren,and didn't mind caring for them.But she didn't really need to be running halfway across the province of New Brunswick on a cold February day to pick them up for the week end.But she would never have said no.

It was only about ten minutes from home.A young man coming the other direction swerved into their lane and hit my mothers car head on.Both drivers died at the scene.It's said he may have fallen asleep as he was supposed to have had narcolepsy.At least thats the story my younger sister told.

My older sister recounted how she first heard about the accident when I visited for the funeral.She was sitting there watching the evening news,she said,and the accident flashed across the screen.Of course,you couldn't see it well.You never can see such thing clearly.She told me,she watched and said to herself"I'm so happy that my parents aren't out on a night like this.A few moments later,the police called.They'd called my other sister in Fredricton too and she had driven all the way back to Moncton.As she approached the accident scene she was detoured,and she must have known how bad things were.

Neither of my sisters knew how to reach me in Calgary as I had recently moved.My mother had the address written in an address book,but of course it was with her in the car.On Sunday morning two police officers came to my door.They had the look of soldiers coming to the door and I wasn't instantly aware of why I thought they looked like that.They said "you need to call your sister"And I did.She didn't have the message I was by now expecting.My father had been in poor health for years,so,of course,that's why she was calling.She said"there was a car accident and Mom didn't make it."To this day,I don't recall which of my sisters I called that day.

A few months later I made my one and only visit to the accident scene.It was a warm June night and my best friend from high school drove me there and made a u turn before pulling up to the place my younger sister had erected a white cross.I stepped down into the ditch and touched the cross and tried to think of what that night must have been like.It looked so different.I noticed a firefly at the foot of the cross as I was standing there,then another and another.When I came back up to get in the truck I looked back down into the ditch,where a glowing storm of fireflies circled that white cross.And I knew that God is good and merciful,that there is a place where we know nothing but his grace and loving kindness,and that my mother was there and that step from the side of that damnable roadside was very short and swift indeed.

memoir writers homework/a past relic.

When my grand parents moved into town,from the farm,in the mid 1960's it's as though they brought the past with them.There were old rusty tools in a gray wooden shed out back.Many were the tools of a lumberjack or a woodcutter.There were old farm implements too.A hay rake,to be pulled behind a horse,every bit of it red and pitted with rust.A seat was mounted to it on a big coil spring and it was the most uncomfortable thing I've ever sat on,even when I didn't imagine the roughness of the fields where the horse would pull it.

My grandfathers car was a relic too.The only thing was,he didn't know that and continued to drive it.It was a 1953 Chev BelAir that used to be a light metallic blue until he repainted dark blue with a paint brush.It had hard seats with no seat belts,and years and years of dust embedded in its upholstery.The window wipers went faster the faster you drove,so that if you were to encounter a torrential downpour you would need to drive very fast indeed just to be able to see.That seemed like maybe something the engineers hadn't given all that much thought to,to me.It would push my mother way beyond her 40 mph comfort zone.My grandfather wouldn't be caught dead driving in the rain,or the snow.Every October he would take the battery out of the car and put it inside the house,on the staircase where you could spend the winter stubbing your toe on it during nocturnal trips to the washroom.

My grandfather modernized his car in about 1976.Sold the 53 Belair to my father and upgraded to a 1961 Ford,to stay more current with the times.We went to pick up the old blue chevy and bring it back to Moncton.I wasn't sure how such a car was going to go over in Moncton.It might clean up well enough to be considered a classic at some point,but as it was,once it was parked on the back lawn,it was likely to send the neighbors a very clear message.We are the folks that Jeff Foxworthy warned you about!

That trip is one I recall so well.My father was there and so was Phillip Wilbur,to drive my fathers car back.We stopped at Davidson Lake on the way home.The lake has a beautiful sandy bottom and,as it was a very hot day,we swam until late at night,then decided to wait until morning before driving the rest of the way home.In the morning we loaded up the cars and set out for Moncton.When we came to the place on the old highway that's called Cambridge Narrows,we came upon a sight straight from Hell.During the night,a fuel truck had gone off the road and plunged into a small gully on the opposite side of the road where it rolled and exploded.It started a small forest fire too.by the time we came along,they were retrieving a body from the ruins.I was amazed at how few those ruins were.What was once a tractor trailer was smoking and probably small enough to put in a small basement.What was once a human being was just a skull and a hip bone.It was a good thing I guess we decided not to press for home the night before.No point risking car problems in the dark with that old relic.We would likely have been very close to right on scene for that tanker truck accident.I knew then,standing at the roadside,smelling kerosene where everything was blackened,that some very bad things could happen in this life.