I love where we are. I love what we sprung from. With the exception of a few bitterly cold winter days, where else would you want to live other than Canada?
Happy 149 Canada. A bit belated, but then that’s kind of a Canadian thing too, isn’t it?
I get snarky about our silly Canadian and provincial political and business systems, but then that’s what I’m paid to do. We have freedom of expression, and no, it’s not written down like it is in America, but it’s understood and enforceable … except on social media sites, of course. But, I won’t digress.
I love my country and appreciate our Commonwealth roots. Never perfect, but, it seems well ahead of whatever is in second place.
I’ve never been to the United Kingdom, and doubt I’ll ever get there, but I’ve met more than a few “Englanders” to know that, with a few exceptions, they’re a pretty stolid, solid and entertaining team.
Just to give you a sample of what I mean, I refer to an elderly English gent I met a number of years ago in southern Ontario.
I learned from sources this gentleman had served in the British Secret Service in the Second World War (and beyond) and was a pretty chatty and interesting personality.
I determined that if I launched my well-honed reportorial skills on him, I could come up with some stories of international intrigue, confirmation of James Bond-type rattlings in the underground and MI-5 and 6 secrets that could now be revealed.
So I bought Jim (not his real name … after all this is a column about spies and such), a beer and started the questioning.
Three beers later, I had nothing except for a few funny tales from the rank and file.
His eyes twinkled, he had read me exactly and as we jousted verbally, he became more firmly entrenched.
“But Jim,” I implored, “the official secrets act thingy was over almost 10 years ago, you can tell me stuff. What about the Coventry bombing thing. Was it true?”
“I know not of what you speak,” he said in his Lincolnshire accent. I knew little about British accents, but my original contact told me that was where he had originated and he was willing to at least confirm that useless bit of information.
“You’re not getting it from me lad,” he stated emphatically. “But you can keep on buying me the beers, they’re quite lovely you know.”
I plowed in again to remind him that statute protecting Allied plans and double-dealings that helped win the war, could now be told.
“Perhaps for some, but not for all,” he replied, working on his fourth beer and still willing to tell rich tales of military service, but nothing of import when it came to the topic of underground, underhanded manipulations that helped win the war against the odds and Hitler.
He was true to his words, or an oath he had taken decades earlier and wasn’t about to falter at this stage in the game, in his 75th year.
That’s the kind of stuff our country has benefited from.
We have a huge corporation of countries from which to draw upon and point to with a sense of pride, saying that is where we get our power to succeed, to move along without killing one another en masse. We get to come together as Canadians. We’ve learned to get along and move forward with steely resolve, just like Jim.
Let’s keep the bad in the background and buy one another a beer, and make plans for the future. Just like Jim.
