Things have been pretty Canadian lately.
The other day at the office, a coworker was sorting through some change and she gave me a Looney. “Use this next time you go home,” she said. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a Looney, and an even longer time since someone called Canada “home.” Both we’re a welcome gift on an otherwise mundane Monday.
Last week the Vancouver Canucks opened the 2011 Stanley Cup finals at home against the Boston Bruins. After the Star Spangled Banner, came a rousing rendition of Oh Canada, sung by a jolly plump man with long hair and a bow tie. But as is tradition, he only sang about half of the anthem, pausing in the middle to let the crowd of 20,000 of his countrymen, my countrymen, fill in the blanks.
And finally, Laura and I recently joined my cousin and his wife at a Kansas City Royals game. My favorite team, the Toronto Blue Jays were in town. Red maple leaves adorned the shoulders of their jerseys and the Canadian flag swayed next the the American flag in the Stadium rafters.
Laura looked over to Adam and I (two of maybe a dozen Canadians in the crowd) and asked, “Does seeing that Canadian flag up there make you miss Canada?”
Adam wryly responded, “Not as much as seeing that American flag does.”