Monday, September 23, 2013

Oh, Canada


The first time I ever was in Canada as a free man I walked over a bridge with a few other raggedy young Workers Worlders to experience what was reputed to be the c coolest Chinese restaurant in the Buffalo area. The Canadian border guy took our promises to leave Canada after our Sino Canadian dinner.

Next were three excursions to and from Music at Port Milford.a summer music school where my daughter had won a scholarship. I remember the Queen's portrait in the little hall where the recitals were performed. There was the mural in Picton  of 1770's red coats defending an Native man, a Black man and a blonde from oncoming blue coats, a mural with more than some validity but good Marxists still identify the red coats with reaction and the blue coats with freaking revolutionary progress.:Right?

My earlier visit, as a U S GI on orders to Vietnam had taken place in 1968. What I remember was a group of kind and ardent Canadian nationalists having invited me to a barbecue on a British Columbia  patio. The subject was me and my future. The music I remember was a Canadianized version  of Woody Guthrie's This Land is Your Land. Ironic, eh?