Shone through the maples

In which our Hero sips and thinks and sips and thinks

It’s Canada Day. An extra day of respite from work. A day of quiet celebration of all things great and Canadian. A day for maple syrup with everything, including coffee and gasoline. A day to think about the Canadian identity and figure out if I’ve made any progress in defining that part of myself.

I got nothing, frankly. The extent of my hopes for the day are that the idiot neighbor won’t be launching roman candles from his driveway over my roof. (Or that they land on his roof if he does) I’m in for a simple, quiet night, puttering on things and generally ignoring humanity.

Not much of a celebration of identity. But I’m not feeling it this year. I’m not feeling proud. My government continues to remove the means by which governments can be opposed, ironically likely making for a long and strong rule for their opponents when the last of their welcome is worn out. My prime minister is an embarrassment, forgoing diplomatic obligations that should not be foisted off to ambassadors and chargés-d’affaires. In the US there’s the excuse of the religious wings of the right for the way the government erodes scientific study and education, but in Canada, it just looks like mean-spiritedness from here.

So, my countrymen and -women, let’s remember what it’s supposed to be about. Be polite and helpful without being self-aggrandizing. Be thoughtful and courteous without looking for advantage. Show pride in self and patriotism by doing, not saying.

And pick up after yourselves, how hard is that?!

Back to my maple Sortilege.