Remember that famous commentary by Canadian newsman Gordon Sinclair in 1973, who decided it was time to speak up for Americans as “perhaps the most generous and possibly the least appreciated people in all the world”?
Now, 45 years later, it’s the Canadians who are under attack, and somebody needs to stand up for them:
At this strange moment in time, when the U.S. President has suddenly decided to make you the subject of his inexplicable anger, let me express how America really feels about you.
You are a good neighbor. No, correct that; a GREAT neighbor. You’re the best. The neighbor who is always there, puttering quietly in the yard, making things more pleasant for everyone on the block. You always have something nice to say to the kids, even though they ride their bikes across your freshly planted flower beds.
You’re the neighbor we trust enough to hold an extra set of keys to the house. And you don’t complain when we go out of town and then call to ask if you could let yourself in to feed the cat every day for the next two weeks.
When we throw loud parties late at night, you never call the police. Not even when things get a little rowdy and we start throwing around the furniture. You don’t even give us dirty looks the next day.
You also don’t say anything when we toss the dog’s business over the fence into your yard. And if you mind our strategy of letting all the leaves blow onto your lawn so we don’t have to rake them, you’ve never mentioned it.
You introduced us to hockey, and even though we didn’t like it as much as our other three sports, we basically bought the league and moved it to places like Phoenix, Las Vegas and Ft. Lauderdale. It’s been 25 years since a Canadian team won Lord Stanley’s Cup, and if you’ve complained about it even once, we didn’t hear it.
When we hit hard times, like 9/11, you’re always the first to call and bring over a home-cooked meal. Poutine isn’t really our thing; we probably shouldn’t keep mentioning how much more we like the tacos and burritos we get from our neighbor on the other side. Because it’s the thought that counts and we shouldn’t make fun of your crappy food when we return the casserole dish 6 months later. Broken.
You gave us the robot arm that we used in the Space Shuttle, and we really enjoyed having it right up until we wrecked it. You fought and died side-by-side with us in World War II and Korea, which was more than anyone could ask for. And even though you sat out Vietnam, when some of our own kids wanted to run away from home rather than die in a dumbass war, you treated them nicely and gave them a safe place to stay. We’re pretty sure we never thanked you properly for that.
Living so close, we should really know you better than we do. We know you talk funny and use words like “toque” and “eh” and “Gordo” and “aboot”. We know you drink Molson’s and Labatt’s, and that your money is called the Dollar too, even though it looks like it came from a board game. (By the way, would you mind terribly keeping your quarters to yourself? They do nothing but jam up the parking meters here.)
But we never remember your birthday because we actually don’t have any idea when it is. We don’t know the words to your National Anthem (to be fair, we don’t know ours, either). What’s your capital? Don’t know. What kind of government do you have? Don’t know. What are your major industries? Don’t care. Where are you on the map? Probably couldn’t tell you. What are your major political parties? Booooorrring!
We’ve been thinking about having you over for some appetizers and getting to know you better, but you know how it is – what with work and the kids and keeping up with the Kardashians.
It can’t be easy for you, living your entire life in the shadow of such wealth and exceptionalism. You’re really a sport, you know? We should appreciate you more than we do.
Which is why we’re so sorry that Trump has suddenly decided to pick on you. We can’t figure it out either; one never can with him. We wish we could offer support, or even some small hope that it will all pass. But with Trump, nothing ever passes. He just keeps chipping away until he gets what he wants. So it’s not going to be pleasant for you, neighbor. But tell you what: If he starts calling you “Nice Canada” in a tone that makes it sound like “nice” is actually a bad thing, we won’t jump on that bandwagon.
Because we really do feel for you. There’s just not much we can do.
At least we’d like to bring over a nice, home-cooked meal while you’re dealing with it. Unfortunately, we’re really busy right now and just don’t think we can get to it. But here’s a gift card to Cheesecake Factory from last Christmas; we’re pretty sure it still has a few dollars on it. Maybe give that a try. And let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you. Anything at all.