Love, Canada

Some Canadians decided to cheer America up with a very public display of affection:

http://www.npr.org/2016/10/14/497986850/canada-just-wants-to-tellamericaitsgreat

One American I know said the short video mash-up made her cry.

My heart felt warmed, too, at first. ''Aw, gee, shucks," I thought, shuffling my feet, shyly smiling. Thanks, Canada.

A second response surfaced. Hey. Hey. Wait one cotton-picking minute. Just how low have we sunk to make such a love letter welcome? I am not sure whether to address America or Canada with the question.

I try to imagine a similar campaign emerging from the UK and can't do it. I believe Brits would sooner request a rematch of the Revolutionary War than openly express non-ironic admiration and sympathy for America. Or for anything, really. No way, no how. Nope.

Leaf Peeping

Ontario has some pretty foliage, but the rises and dips in the terrain of New England and upstate New York-- the density of contour lines on the map-- makes for more drama south of the border. A privilege of living in Toronto is being in driving distance of my friends Rebecca and Sam Busselle, in New York State's Harlem Valley, between the Hudson River and the Connecticut border: the Taconic Range. Rebecca took me leaf-peeping on our way to the wonderful farmer's market in Copake.

Route 22

 I must say, it's fine country, this US of A. I'm hoping fervently that its leadership lands in a safe pair of hands #VOTE

Thanksgiving Northern style

We've just celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving. Unlike American Thanksgiving, the northern version doesn't have a (problematic) back story about bumbling pilgrims and hospitable natives and approaching winter and transatlantic knowledge transfer.  Instead it arrives for no particular reason, in a rush, two months earlier than American Thanksgiving, chasing summer's heels. The timing always bothered me.

Not this year. This year I am grateful for the holiday's early appearance, because it brought with it not a pilgrim, but a prodigal: my firstborn child. Eldest son has moved way out west, to the Pacific coast, to attend the University of British Columbia, but he came home for the long holiday weekend. Not without some grumbling, mind, because as it turned out he had a presentation to give and a math quiz to take and upcoming midterms to study for, but the plans had been laid and tickets booked long before. So he boarded the red-eye and landed in Toronto at six o'clock Friday morning. I could hardly sleep the night before and popped awake at 5:00 to collect him.

Special delivery: Pearson Airport, 6 a.m.

He was happy to be home, to be fed and coddled and cuddled. And he needed it. He had a lingering cough and a battered thumb from a bizarre rowing accident and tired, bloodshot eyes. As soon as he entered the kitchen he raided the fridge. Moments later he climbed into bed in his own room and slept for hours. I like to think he does still need his mommy, as well as his daddy and his brother and his sister and his cats. It's been so wonderful for all of us having him here. The best part of the weekend was in fact not sharing the scrumptious feast with good friends, nor witnessing the happy reunion of son with his mates, but having a few quiet hours when the five of us sat home, reading and studying and listening to the radio and playing FIFA '16 and giggling. The stuff that up til a month ago was normal life. I can't believe I ever took it for granted. Silly me.

I am quite sure son enjoyed his visit, the friends and the turkey and the cranberry sauce and his family. But he missed uni, too. "Next year," he tells us, "I'm definitely not coming home for Thanksgiving.  I'll be way too busy."

We shall see. For this year, at least, I'm thankful.