Yesterday, in Canada, it was Thanksgiving (Americans have a different one.) It’s a time when families get together and gossip about the cousins who didn’t show up. We Canadians normally spend the day having a few adult beverages, yelling at the kids, bitching about the weather and arguing about hockey (or religion, as it is called in some parts of the country.) Somewhere around the time we agree that Celine Dion is weird and Jason (Justin?) Bieber is a jackass, we have a big dinner. After dinner, the slowest kids do the dishes and the older relatives play “Remember when” — a polite version of “Ain’t it awful?” Finally, at some point in the lingering autumn evening, every Canadian, regardless of where he or she lives, what job they do, whether they are rich or poor, smart, beautiful or awesome, takes a small spiritual moment to connect with the deity of their choice and give thanks that they weren’t born American.
–
–
–
–
–
–
–
And we love hockey
WD Fyfe 