Skip to main content

Being Canadian

Happy Canada Day to all my fellow Canucks and honorary-Canucks too!

Canada Day is pretty special to me, even though it has been years since I’ve actually celebrated it in Canada.

During our first few years of marriage Pierre and I moved around…a lot. Montreal to San Diego, San Diego to Silicon Valley, and back again to the East Coast. At first, our goal was to eventually move back to Canada. Yet in the past five years, as we’ve settled into our life together in small-town Pennsylvania, we’ve discovered a unique sense of pride that comes with being a Canuck living in another land. For us, living in Canada has become secondary to simply being Canadian.

We’ve found small ways of integrating Canada into our daily lives. A framed Maple Leaf hangs humbly in our living room, while across the room is a print of children playing hockey, Ce sont des gagnants (They are all Winners). There is First Nations’ art on our walls, French children’s books scattered throughout the house, and Passe-Partout or Arthur L’Aventurier in the DVD player. Ben and Nicholas can each proudly sing the first four lines of the Canadian national anthem, though in their version “all thy sons” come and play hockey! 

DSC00993DSC01015

The boys in their Canada hats.

There have been challenges to living outside of Canada: work visas, green cards, and raising our sons to be bilingual in a predominantly English environment, though both boys now understand French well (which comes in handy when they’re in trouble in the grocery store, and I don’t want other shoppers to know what I am saying to them!). They can speak French too. And there are things that Pierre and I miss: family and friends, hearing French, the unique feel of CTV, and seeing the Maple Leaf soaring high. We miss Tim Horton’s (though the local grocery store now carries Timmy’s coffee!), Robertson screws, and poppies on Remembrance Day. But, every so often, there are sweet surprises that remind us of home: finding Smarties at the grocery store (in the ethnic food aisle!) or meeting someone who says, “You’re from Canada? I just went to Montréal (or Toronto, or Halifax or Vancouver). I loved my visit”. Talk about pride! 

We’ve discovered that there is something about being Canadian that goes far beyond decorations in our home, coffee or Arthur. It is in the very way that we live our lives. It is in bringing up our sons to feel pride in a country that will so intricately be part of their lives, though they may never live in it. It is in living up to the notion of Canadians as kind and friendly people. It is in taking a keen interest in the on-goings of our native land, though we live hundreds of kilometers away. And it is in knowing that we can care deeply about our new country, while taking nothing away from our homeland.

And my family and I love our adopted land. We’ve made amazing friends across our travels. And the people that we have met here, in Pennsylvania, are among the best that we know. Our small community of friends and neighbors welcomed us with openness and generosity. And they have, thankfully, embraced our Canadianess. By now, they’re used to me saying “eh?” at the end of my sentences, Pierre’s French accent, and the fact that we celebrate Thanksgiving before Halloween. Pierre wearing shorts in December, and our love of Les Canadiens is met with good-natured jests to our heritage. During the last Winter Olympics, we watched the Canada-U.S.A. hockey final with close American friends, toasting each other with Canadian and U.S. brew, and promising to remain close, no matter the outcome of the game. We’ve hosted Canada Day parties and Thanksgiving dinners, and introduced our American friends to everything from The Tragically Hip to Robert Munsch to Québec maple syrup and poutine.

Over the last seven years, I’ve discovered so much that I love about living in the United States. I love that Benjamin and Nicholas are dual-citizens of two amazing countries, speakers of two native-languages. The doors open to them will be endless. I love that Benjamin can recite the Pledge of Allegiance, and sing God Bless America, following each up with Oh Canada! I love Americans for their unabashed patriotism. I love smooth U.S. freeways (hello, no pot-holes!), Memorial Day, and a Thanksgiving holiday that breaks up the dreariness of November. I love no tax on clothes in PA (You heard right. No tax on clothes!), and shorter winters. I love the feeling that comes with living in small-town U.S.A. Oh, and I love Target (though Canadians will soon experience this love too!).

I’ve have discovered, over the years, that living outside of Canada does not make my boys and me any less Canadian. Instead, we’ve all learned to appreciate the best of both worlds, and the best of both countries.

So today, on Canada Day, Pierre and I be joining our fellow Canucks, from afar, in toasting our homeland strong and free (the boys can toast with milk).  A few days from now, we’ll raise a glass to the Stars and Stripes. And Ben will sing about both. What could be better?

xo Naomi   

P.S. For a little maple-inspired cooking, try out the recipe below. We made ours on a cedar-plank without the rice pilaf. Delicious either way!

Maple Glazed Shrimp, Salmon with Rice Pilaf

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Funny Medicine

So, after blogging about Ben’s ear infection, a good friend messaged me on Facebook with a unique remedy for ear pain. She’s had a ruptured eardrum, so if she says that this works, I’m inclined to believe her. Here’s the message: “If Ben complains about pain, take an onion and mash it as you would a potato. Then, wrap it in something and heat it in the microwave till it’s hot (not hot like I'll burn you if I touch it, but hot). Take it out of the microwave and wrap it in a towel (don't worry you can wash it out after), put it on a pillow and then have Ben put his sore ear on it. When he no longer feels the heat, move a piece of towel away so he is one layer closer to the onion.” What do you think? Neat, eh? My pediatrician recommended a few drops of olive oil in the ear to ease pain. I’ve tried it with Ben, and it seemed to give him some relief. I’m going to try the onion. Why not? It’s an alternative that just might work. And I think that Ben would find it kind of fun to put...

Here we go….

I’ve been wanting to start a blog for a while now. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about starting it, talking about starting it, tinkering with the layout (and that was hard because I am basically a computer-dummy), and now, writing it. Is anyone actually going to read what I write on here? Maybe. Well….my mom will read it (Hi Mom!). Regardless, I do have a purpose to starting this, and here it is: Deciding to be a mom was one the very best decision that I have ever made (second only to marrying Pierre), and I want to share that. The time spent being home with my boys goes by so fast. Ok….let’s rephrase that….actual days can seem endless (and there are definitely times when I call Pierre at work, and tell him not to dare come home without wine. Or chocolate. Or both!!), but still each day, each week, seems to be going by faster and faster. I blinked and my youngest went from being a baby to turning three years old this coming Tuesday. And the next time I blink he’ll be thirty-three!...

A Brother’s Love

The boys had ice-cream for dessert tonight. In fact, not only did they have ice-cream, they had an ice-cream sundae with whipped cream and strawberries, a special treat as only Grandma can make. Spoiled little bugs. Just as my two sweet-toothed monkeys were about to dig-in, Grandpa, being “the silliest” as Nicholas calls him, pulled a fast one. Taking Nicholas’ bowl of ice-creamy-yumminess, Grandpa said: “Mmmm-mmmm. That’s my ice cream, Nicholas. Thank you!” And he pretended to gobble up the bowl. Nicholas was not impressed. He stuck-out his bottom lip, and gave a somewhat convincing fake cry while burying his little head in his chair. I wouldn’t have awarded him an Oscar for this particular performance, but his point was clear enough: Grandpa had his ice cream, and he wasn’t going to let it be eaten without protest. Now Benjamin, watching all this unfold, had a very different reaction. His big, blue eyes welled up with tears, not of the crocodile variety, his face cru...