I am Canada

Yesterday at Hannah's school a number of parents came in and talked about the countries they came from and shared with the preschoolers their flags and culture. Hannah attends a unique kind of school (especially for Orange County) that focuses on children and teachers from international climes. From aged 2-3 Hannah received instruction from German, Japanese and Hispanic teachers, then 'graduated' to Japanese, Austrian and ASL (American Sign Language). Currently she is with a German teacher but is given direct exposure to the other teachers so that she doesn't loose the Japanese et al. that she has already absorbed. Everywhere else but America we would look at this multicultural opportunity as a necessity for our child's development and 'think global' mentality. Here, we look at it as a luxury. To some, it is considered 'crunchy' 'liberal' and out of the main stream.

But I digress.

Hannah, seeing the Canadian flag loudly exclaimed "I am Canada" "My Daddy is also Canada".
The teacher (Ms. Uris, an Austrian national) explained to Hannah, that she was not Canada, but 'Canadian'.

I am an American, but my husband (Hannah's daddy) is Canadian, and I have thought long and hard about what makes us Americans so darn different from our neighbors up north (they would say that they are actually, neighbours...but again, I digress.)

Canadians, in my experience, seem to be so much happier...so much funnier, and so much less focused on the 'political' aspects of life. Even their politicians are less political. Canadians are great story tellers, but in a way so different than the typical Amercian. That 'Big Fish' mentality doesn't seem to exist. Instead, there is humor in the daily grind, the trip to the donut shop, the history of curling, the battle over a beloved hockey anthem and the widow who owns it. Steve Martin, George Carlin...they could have been Canadian. It is so down to earth, so self deprecating, and so hilariously funny to those of us living our lives one day at a time.

Canadian men seem to have nothing to prove and have little or no rancor towards their fellow man. The guy at the Jiffy Lube will spend an extra hour telling you about his dear old Gran...the waiter at your favorite pub will set up a seat and talk about his struggle to find the perfect apartment. The bagger at the grocery store, well, he has a cottage right by yours, and HEY, you might actually be related!!

Get a group of American guys together and the measuring stick comes out. Get a group of Canadian men together and they work hard to see who can make the other guy shoot beer from his nose (all in good fun).

Ron struggled with American insincerity when he first arrived. The typical HR response of 'we love you, will call you' always got his heart racing and his expectations up. The inevitable false friendly was foreign to him.

I can't wait to stop looking over my shoulder.