“O Canada”. I’m the guy at the Preds game who sings both the Canadian and American anthems. Born in Canada and raised in the US is my story. Although I love being a citizen of both countries it makes me feel a little schizophrenic at times.
We just got back from our vacation to the Great White North. The land of hockey,universal health care, Tim Horton’s and moose icons everywhere. We spent a week in Toronto enjoying family, cooler weather and a safe, clean and exciting big city. What I enjoyed as much as our actual trip are the childhood memories that come flooding back every time I cross the border from Detroit into Canada. The triggers are everywhere. Canadian flags, the tunnel, the downtowns of small villages, the rows of vegetable greenhouses and friendly people who use the expression “eh” at the drop of a hat.
Memories are the product of those things in our past that we felt deeply. Sometimes the emotions were joyful and exciting and othertimes painful and scary. But trust me when I say that if you didn’t feel it you don’t remember it. This is why depressed children have so few memories later in life. I’m always concerned when my clients have no memories of their childhood. Children who feel numb or anxious all the time grow up to be adults with a lot of gaps in their past story.
This is why I have so many wonderful memories of Canada still. This country not even two hours away from where I grew up was a safe place for me. A land where my Grandmother who loved me dearly lived. A place where we didn’t run off to Mc Donalds for lunch but instead sat down to my favorite meals. A world where we didn’t race from place to place in a car but walked downtown to pick up the mail. A town where extended family lived rather than being alone in the suburbs. Canada for me was world where everything slowed down and I had time to feel deeply. In a perfect world this is the type of life every child would experience and as a result grow up happy and emotionally healthy.
Now I know that not every Canadian had this experience growing up. In fact some of them may have lived a childhood as busy and stressful as mine on the other side of the border. But I’m not ready to give up the fantasy. I hope that every time I visit the country of my birth for the rest of my life I am emotionally transported to a safe place. A place where memories that bring me joy and comfort continue to wash over me just because I crossed the border.
So the next time you see me at a hockey game watch me when they play “O Canada”. You’ll see not only a middle aged man standing there but a little boy with a grin on his face. If you look hard enough you’ll see a child who just got a chance to take one more quick trip to a place he loves beyond words.
