Dear Canada: I’m Sorry

Dear Canada,

 

I’ve seen your people—they’re my neighbors.

They brought us cookies when my family moved into the neighborhood.

One was from Nova Scotia. A few grew up in Ontario. There was even one from somewhere in Alberta.

We were in Rochester, on the American side of the line.

Since then, I’ve seen flags with stars and stripes flying next to ones with a maple leaf.

I’ve seen Niagara Falls way too many times—from both sides, of course.

In 2019, I saw the Toronto Raptors win the NBA championship. I sang your national anthem with Alessia Cara and crushed a few Molson Canadians.

I’ve seen Justin Bieber, Carly Rae Jepsen, Bruno Mars, Twenty One Pilots, Chappell Roan, and Olivia Rodrigo, all on your side of the line.

I’ve been to London—the one in Ontario.

And I’ve been to Windsor—man, the pizza there is good.

I’ve bought children’s books in Québec City. (My français still sucks.) While there, I got roped into buying a vinyl record. (I don’t understand it, and I have a feeling it sucks.)

On the way back, I checked a Montreal Canadiens game off my bucket list.

Ottawa was never on the bucket list, but I checked it off as well.

I’ve listened to Bryan Adams, Drake, the Weeknd, Céline Dion, Alanis Morissette, Shania Twain, Neil Young, and Rush.

My favorite, though, is The Tragically Hip. They didn’t hit it big stateside except, of course, where I live. There’s a tribute band here.

I’ve used YYZ for its direct flights—Aruba, Barcelona, Calgary, Dublin, Lisbon, and Seoul.

I’ve seen your people at Buffalo Bills games—we root for the boys together.

When the Toronto Blue Jays couldn’t play in pandemic-era Canada, they played on this side instead.

Our restaurants love your business. Scratch that—they need it.

The same goes for our airports—you use ours, too.

I’ve worked with a man whose wife lives in Hamilton.

I once met a man from Hamilton who works in the US.

I listen to your radio stations coming across the lake.

I’m pretty sure you return the favor.

I drink Tim Hortons on the regular.

One of my favorite places in town specializes in poutine. Another serves only crêpes.

Thanks to my daughter, I now know that we share the same dance competitions. That applies to fresh water and electricity to boot.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I’d be less without you.

Yeah, I’ve made fun of you.

But you never hesitate to reciprocate. Remember when you called Americans fat and said they die young?

That’s the point.

We’re brothers.

We piss each other off sometimes. We split stuff and bicker over who gets what. You win in hockey. The States have more money.

But we go to war together.

We take care of each other.

Are we really going to throw this all away over chopped wood and spilled milk?

I am but an average man, a powerless speck relative to a boss I didn’t choose.

But at least, dear Canada, I can let you know that I’m sorry.

 

Sincerely,

Your Upstate New York brother