In 1972, as part of the ongoing search for our elusive national identity, the CBC’s Peter Gzowski held a contest, challenging listeners to complete the phrase, “As Canadian as…”
The obvious answers flowed in, including, “As Canadian as hockey” and “As Canadian as a toboggan.” No doubt a toque or a two-four were thrown in, for good measure.
This year, as our nation celebrates its sesquicentennial, it might be the appropriate time to add a few more.
Perhaps, “As Canadian as a multi-million-dollar maple-syrup heist,” or “…as a Hudson Bay blanket covered in ketchup-chip dust.”
But back then, it was a Sarnia woman named Heather Scott who hit it on the head with her now-famous winning answer: “As Canadian as possible under the circumstances.”
This niggling sense — that compared to our larger, louder next-door neighbours, we don’t always register on the world stage — isn’t new. Far from it.
As our first Prime Minister Trudeau declared in 1969, in a speech to the Washington Press Club: “Living next to you is in some ways like sleeping with an elephant. No matter how friendly and even-tempered is the beast … one is affected by every twitch and grunt.”
If you’ve traveled abroad, you’ve likely had to correct someone who’s misidentified your accent. And that’s not factoring in the ol’ American-with-a-maple-leaf-on-his-backpack hijinks.
We’ve often heard our famous citizens described as “the Canadian version of (insert big-name American celebrity here)” or find no reference at all to their nationality. That’s unlike, say, the Brits or Aussies, who need only utter syllable or two to make their origins known.
So, as the recent U.S. election progressed, and the cries of “If so-and-so wins, I’m moving to Canada” grew louder, we sat up a little straighter. This was our Sally-Field-at-the-Oscars moment – “You like us. You really like us.”
Suddenly, we started feeling pretty pleased with ourselves, our underlying inferiority complex evolving into smug self-satisfaction.
“Yeah, we’ve been this great all along. Thanks for noticing. Uh… this isn’t just a convenience thing, right?”
While it’s clear most non-fans of the eventual victor have since decided to stick it out and work to “Make America Great Again” on their own terms, no doubt there are those who are still scouring the help-wanted ads and looking up real-estate listings in the land of homogenized milk and honey.
But for the average (that is, non-filthy rich) citizen, picking up and moving to another country isn’t that simple. They’ll be asked: Is there a need for your particular skill set? Are you fleeing for your life? Is one or more of your parents from around here?
But for those, ahem, loonie enough to try it, there’s always the option of marrying your way into the country.
Of course, as anyone who has watched The Proposal knows, (that’s the one starring Canada’s version of Brad Pitt), it’s not enough to just get hitched; there must be an element of love.
I’m pretty sure I have an entertaining solution. As an added bonus, it’s something our American cousins, and their new leader, will likely embrace – a reality TV show.
Think of it as Border Patrol meets The Bachelor. They could set up tables in Peace Arch Park and we’d all watch with bated breath as hopeful international soulmates lined both sides of the 49th parallel, with long-stemmed red roses tucked inside their passports.
There’s probably no need to talk politics, since it will be fairly obvious where the soon-to-be expats stand on those issues.
It’ll be straight into the speed-rounds, asking the important questions, like, “What is American cheese, exactly?” before debating how soon it’s OK to discuss makin’ Canadian bacon.
Once the matches are made, the Canadians can vow to take their American spouses for better or for worse, for as long as they both shall live… or at least for the next four to eight years, depending on how long the honeymoon period lasts for those left behind with their new president.
The name of the show – Love Trumps All.
How can it lose?