Still Standing: Canadian Culture, History, and Comedy

Nine years before Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on that bus in Montgomery, Alabama, Viola Desmond refused to move from the main floor to the balcony of a movie theatre in New Glasgow, Nova Scotia.

Had I not watched Still Standing, an endearing and pisscutter funny show about Canadians who live in towns that have endured hard times, I might not have learned about Ms. Davis.

Or Dominic Filane of Schreiber, Ontario; East Preston, Nova Scotia’s Justine Colley-Leger; or Arnold of Churchill, Manitoba.

A boxer turned hat-maker; a local basketball legend; and a hardware store pig.

Never heard of them?

Me neither—not until I watched the CBC show featuring Jonny Harris, a Newfoundland comedian and actor.

I got teary meeting these people and that pig.

I laughed. And I smiled as I thought of how much I love Canada, as I sat, eating my supper.

Still Standing, until recently, was not available from the States, but now we can watch the CBC from home. Even so, the show is better in person.

In 2019, my wife and I drove from Massachusetts to New Brunswick to watch the live show, from a hockey rink in Cap-Pelé, New Brunswick.

Still Standing stage - Cap-Pelé, NS
(image courtesy of J.C. Dwyer) 

Eight hours. 865 kilometers. Well worth it.

Thank you, Canada.

See you next time, maybe in Newfoundland.

Newfoundland: Icebreaker and Song

 

Photo Courtesy of JC.Dwyer

“La la la la la, la la la la la,” a TSA agent at Logan International Airport sings as I collect my shoes and backpack from the tub on the conveyor belt.

“La la la la la,” I sing back to her.

Then we alternate lines: Sing, sing a song

Sing it simple, sing it strong

Don’t worry that’s it not good enough for anyone else to hear.

And we conclude, together: Just sing, sing a song.

“Someone else knows a Carpenters song,” the agent says, surprised.

If it weren’t for COVID, we might have chatted a bit longer. A nice icebreaker though, right?

The pandemic caused my wife and I to avoid getting on a plane since January 2020, when we flew to Nashville.

Because the total active COVID-19 cases in Newfoundland have been fewer than fifty and strict protocols have been in place on “The Rock,” we felt it was time to fly to visit our Northeastern neighbours again.

This would be about our 20^th trip to Newfoundland. We’d seen our fair share of icebergs in the summer, and we figured another November visit was in order. Who would we meet? What would we learn? Would there be snow flurries, as one weather forecast indicated?

At the Alt hotel, perched on the 5^th floor and overlooking St. John’s Harbour, I notice the Canadian Coast Guard Ship (CCGS) Terry Fox, it’s orange base in the cold North Atlantic water. Classified as a heavy icebreaker, the vessel named after a Canadian hero doesn’t seem to have any work to do yet. Cold, but not cold enough.

In the hotel lobby, my wife plucks Canada C3 from the “library” shelf. A giant book full of pictures and words, it documents the story of a Students on Ice initiative. Very little to do with hockey, I learn. Everything to do with breaking down cultural barriers and getting to know the complete Canada, from coast to coast to coast.

Every day, I read about this 150-day voyage aboard the MV Polar Princess, an icebreaker that traveled 23,000 kilometres—from Toronto, Ontario to Victoria, British Columbia.

Youth ambassadors, musicians, artists, journalists, environmentalists, scientists…these people of all colors and who spoke many languages opened their hearts and minds and tear ducts as they got down to business: connecting Canadians who might otherwise never meet to delve beyond the buzzwords of diversity and inclusion, reconciliation, youth engagement and the environment.

Tears, laughter, music, difficult conversations. Lingering sadness for missed opportunities mixed with tonnes of progress and hope, as far as I can gather, swelled together as the participants made their way about this great big country, including stops in Newfoundland and Labrador. That was in 2017.

Here in 2021, my wife and I walk along Water Street to visit the Terry Fox Mile Zero Memorial Site. A statue of the brave young man and plaques capture his quest to raise awareness and funds for those fighting cancer. For the uninitiated: Terry Fox commenced his Marathon of Hope here to commence his coast to coast (East to West) trek on April 12, 1980.

Imagine Terry, crossing Water Street and up a steep hill. And then all the way to Thunder Bay, Ontario before cancer caught up to him and took control of his lungs.

On two good legs, I walked to Fred’s Records on Duckworth Street. Fred Brokenshire, the store’s founder, died last month. I bought a piece of Newfoundland music history, Ryan’s Fancy – What a Time! A 40 Year Celebration.

Down at the other end of Water Street, on our last day here, my wife and I meet a couple of friends at Boston Pizza. Jon Drover, a member of Newfoundland’s premier party band, 709 tells us about their drummer, Jon Lane, who passed on in September. So sudden, so sad.

We chat about the music that binds us. Jon mentions his love of Nashville, where one top-notch act covered songs from Lenny Kravitz and the Carpenters. Jon couldn’t wait to witness whatever song was next on the set list.

I don’t know when my wife and I will be back to Newfoundland. The memories of this trip, like those of Karen Carpenter, Terry Fox, Canada C3, Fred Brokenshire, Jon Lane …well, I trust they’ll live on every time I play those Ryan’s Fancy CDs.

Thanks again, Canada. Merci, Maarsii, Qujannamik.

The Canadiens, Canadians and Canadianity

Most Canadians I know are backing Le Bleu-Blanc-Rouge—even if the Habs aren’t their team—against the Tampa Bay Lightning.

I missed Game Four because my wife and I had other things going on and finished at different times. She ended up listening to the game on the Internet while I continued reading Canadianity: Tales from the True North Strong and Freezing, by Jeremy Taggart and Jonathan Torrens (TnT). 

Canadianity. Did you catch that? A tough word for you to pronounce, too? Say it with me: Cuh-nay-dee-ANN-ity.

I thought I knew a lot about Canada and what makes the folks from Newfoundland to Nunavut to Nanaimo so Canadian, you know, what gives them their…Canadianity.

In all our travels and conversations with friends we’ve made since first visiting our northerly neighbours in the late 1990s, my wife have become familiar with the Canadian entertainers TnT reference in their book, from Great Big Sea to the Guess Who, Leslie Neilsen to Steve Nash.

We’ve even been to some of the eateries that TnT mention: Clementine Café in Winnipeg; Two If By Sea Café in Halifax; Mallard Cottage in St. John’s.

I know the difference between St. John’s (Newfoundland) and St. John (New Brunswick). Look at me, braggin’.

But, man, so much I didn’t know. Kind of embarrassing for a Canadian spy to admit: I didn’t realize when MuchMusic went on the air (1984). Never heard of Taggart’s band (Our Lady Peace) or the program Torrens hosted (Jonovision). And Dan Hill and Gino Vannelli are Canadian? Whoa.

“I Just Wanna Stop” and cry when I get to the story Torrens tells about Mike Stevens, another fella I didn’t know existed. A harmonica player and founder of ArtsCan Circle, Stevens won the Slaight Music Humanitarian Award at the Canadian Country Music Awards (2016).

So much I’ve learned up until page 197, and I’m sure TnT have more in store for me in the next eighty-three pages of Canadianity.

I’ll watch Game Five tonight and hope the Canadiens come back to win the series. As soon as it’s over, though, I’m going right back to Canadianity to up my Canadian Spy game.

Still Spying and Still Standing

O Canada, I miss you.

Image Courtesy of YYT Photo & Design

I haven’t seen you since last July. Highlights from that trip to New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island: visiting with friends at the safehouse in St. Andrews (NB) and with other friends in the Montague (PEI) area; a Souris sunset, set to music; and a tour of the Belfast Mini Mills, where I purchased a hat that I’d wear for a good portion of a long New England winter.

I’ve resorted to staying semi-connected by electronic correspondence with friends and by these other means:

Music: Alan Doyle (from Petty Harbour, NL) and The Beautiful Band in Lowell, MA. At that outside show part of the summer music series, the lads and lone lassie fiddler filled the air with frolicking tunes. Can’t remember if “When I am King” made the setlist that evening. To keep Newfoundland and Labrador close to heart, I’ve been practicing that song on the guitar and performed it for the first time in public at open mic at the local coffeehouse.

Books: Mark Critch, a Newfoundland comedian, mentions Great Big Sea in his book, Son of a Critch. Funny, insightful and entertaining, the book also left me feeling grateful—for my childhood, my family and all the adventures my wife and I have enjoyed Newfoundland. Black Ice, a story billed as a tribute to the Colored Hockey League of the Maritimes, grabbed a hold of me not just because of the hockey; George and Darrill Fosty did their homework about Maritime history that connects that part of Canada to places I hadn’t considered much. Enlightening.

Internet TV. Ever heard of Jonny Harris? I hadn’t until my wife mentioned the Newfoundlander’s Still Standing show. In the past month or so of 27 episodes, I’ve been mystified and misty-eyed as Jonny meets Canadians who dwell in small towns, from Bamfield (BC) to Fogo Island (NL). These hearty and enterprising folks have stuck together through difficult times, evolved and endured. My kind of people.

My wife and I have visited some of these towns. So many more, we’ll put on our wish list. Top of that list: Bell Island, NL.

See you in two weeks, Canada.

Why Winnipeg

Three years ago, I posted a piece about the best of Newfoundland. (Sorry to any readers who wondered if the espionage police had finally tracked me down and stripped me of my Internet connection.). Not the case. I’ve returned to St. John’s, NL (the province officially known as Newfoundland and Labrador) as well as British Columbia, Ontario, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia. Too much material for one blog post, so I’ll fill you in about a province my wife (and professional donut photographer) and I hadn’t visited.

Manitoba: Home to the American Hockey League’s Moose and the NHL’s Winnipeg Jets. Other than hockey, why Winnipeg? For nine days? In late November, for crying out loud? These are questions that friends, as well as Winnipeggers at the safehouse, asked us.

We wanted to meet the good people of Winnipeg and learn more about the joys of Canada. Who knew Winnipeg had so much character—and characters?

Those who’ve congregated at the West End Cultural Centre, which in 1987 was transformed from a church into a music venue, could testify to performances from Arlo Guthrie to the Hanson Brothers to Zoo Animal. On this chilly November night, the Reverend Rambler, a.k.a. Matt Colpitts, opened for the Dust Rhinos, who would be celebrating their 25^th anniversary. The Reverend, a bearded blues-inspired guitarist, rocked the former house of God.

After the Rev’s rambunctious set, he told us that he’s a shop teacher by day.

If Colpitts is half as passionate about molding young minds as he is about music, his students must love him. (Further research indicates that the Rev also enjoys hockey.)

My wife and I did, of course, see the Jets play in Bell MTS Place. Friendly people behaving themselves yet alive with the spirit of True North, strong and free. (Warning to first-timers: stay alert during O Canada.) The home team defeated Taylor Hall and the New Jersey Devils, 5 – 2.  

As we approached the arena’s exit, I spied a fellow wearing a Jets sweater; the name on the back was not Wheeler or Perreault but rather Dancing Gabe. (Never heard of him).

Fast forward a few days later to Chapters. A light snow fell outside the bookstore. Inside, in the hockey section, I saw a man sporting Canadian red attire. With his arms extended and his face lit up with joy, it’s as if Gabriel Langlois was about to embrace me. I plucked Daniel Perrons’s biography of Dancing Gabe from the shelf and would later enjoy the heck out of the book about Winnipeg’s most revered and wonderful sports fanatic.

Next time I’m at Jets game, I’ll have to ask Gabe what his favourite donut is and then add him to the list.

I wonder if Gabe has been to Bronuts, in “the Exchange” (district). 

Home Alone
(Image courtesy of YYT Photo and Design)

Brett and Dylan Zahari, the brothers who in 2015 launched the gourmet donut and coffee shop, have created a community centre of sorts. Spacious. Welcoming. Brett served as the frontman during our first visit and explained donut menu: Each of the eight seasonal round darlings has a name based on a fictional character. These donuts have flair for sure, and boy oh boy, is the staff friendly. And the bros, as well as Brett’s wife Meghan, have done their homework. Lots of research, trial and error. And when you get right down to taste, these are the best donuts in Winnipeg.

Yes, yes, it’s cold there in November. But not brutal. And in the summer, I’ve heard of nasty black flies to despise. Keep the faith, fellow travelers. There are lots of reasons to love Winnipeg. This Canadian spy tells you no lies. 

Newfoundland Top Twelve: All the Best

Newfoundland, +1.5 hours from Boston.
Image courtesy of  YYT Photo and Design

Since our last trip to Newfoundland, much has changed—new eateries and music to be discovered, for example—yet the unyielding wind and the waves and the wonderful people anchor this place in our hearts.

From the Air Canada flight, when my wife spied “the Rock” from above for the first time in six years to our last night in Newfoundland, when we shared an elevator with a couple from Ottawa (they thought we were from Ontario, too), I present the Top Twelve highlights from our latest Canadian espionage adventure:

1.      Signal Hill

A snot-knocking wind whips my face, and my jeans billow. I am alive and well. In front of me and below, on a descending trail that skirts the ocean, walkers and runners become specks. I imagine successful journeys and shipwrecks. Alan Doyle’s “Laying Down to Perish,” a haunting song about surrendering to the inevitable, sticks with me long after I’ve left what some still call “the Lookout.”

2.      Breakfast and “Launch”

Rocket Bakery & Fresh Food on Water Street: We enjoy the logo and vibe, and the quiche of the day, the porridge or a breakfast croissant, and the coffee. We have breakfast there, but not “launch.” We enjoy our mid-day meals at Nautical Nellies, also on Water Street. The Pear, Bacon and Goat Cheese salad do Newfoundland proud, as does the Patrice Bergeron lookalike who serves our food and chats about hockey and Boston.

3.      Newfound Music

Walking along George Street on a Sunday evening, my wife and I hear someone singing “Boston and St. John’s.” We look at each other, intrigued. Who’s covering this Great Big Sea Song? We walk into Green Sleeves, past the singer on stage. David Whitty covers “Galway Girl,” a revamped version of Notorious B.I.G.’s “Juicy” and some clever and catchy original music. He ends his show with Elton John’s “Your Song.” On another night at what at least one local calls “the Snotty Cuffs,” Rob Cook (from the band BUMP) has me “Feeling Groovy” and does a splendid job of covering Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire.”

4.      Lighthouses

I smell the pine trees on either side of me as I walk from the makeshift parking spot to the towering bold red edifice in Ferryland. At the Cape Spear lighthouse, I climb the same steps the Cantwells—lightkeepers for 150 years—climbed. I witness the outermost layer of wallpaper (there are more than 60 layers) in their house, now a historic monument, on this most northeastern point in Canada.  

5.      Dinners

The YellowBelly Brewery & Public House serves a delicious Meatball Trio appetizer—parmesan meets polenta—and the Four Cheese & Chicken Caesar pizza pacifies our taste buds. Best of all is the gracious server from Corner Brook, NL. Best place for authentic Neapolitan pizza: Piatto Pizzeria on Duckworth Street. We watch the pizza man prepare our dinner and we talk about his fondness for Salt-N-Pepa. Let’s just say that it’s “very necessary” for us to return there for a VPN Margherita.

6.      Desserts

Newfoundland Chocolate Company: Ur cracked if you don’t walk a few blocks from downtown to learn Newfoundland expressions, which are wrapped around the chocolate bars, or to try a treat named after a St. John’s street. Shockin’ good chocolate. Or, if you prefer old school candy and a retro-nerd atmosphere, then the Freak Lunchbox is for you. Sing along to “Karma Chameleon” and say “Yo, America,” to A.L.F.

7.      Beyond St. John’s

Drive west along the Trans Canada Highway to the Bay de Verde Peninsula, which separates Trinity Bay and Conception Bay, and then continue along the Baccalieu Trail to discover Newfoundland’s strong tie to Portugal. The Bonavista Peninsula, home to ex-Bruin Michael Ryder, fleets of icebergs and a heavenly pea soup and ham sandwich, lift my sagging spirits. We drive back to Clarenville and enjoy the enthusiasm and breakfast (molasses muffins and bakeapple jam on brown bread, yum) at the Island View Hospitality House.

8.      On the Radio

VOCM, 590 AM, is a great way to learn about what’s on the minds of locals and to hear the Newfoundland accent. Local citizens talk about issues—Muskrat Falls, the Fishery, health concerns—and politicians from all parties chime in. And there’s a healthy dose of folks who call to solicit support for charitable causes. Many callers sign off by saying “all the best.”  There’s also music for the drive: I hear a Journey song on the way back to St. John’s

9.      Old Reliable Music.

Larry Foley has been on the music scene for two decades, and he still mesmerizes with his voice and lyrics. He’s a must-see act for those who love traditional Irish music or the “Gulf of Mexico.” So we do see him perform, at Shamrock City.

10.  Finding it at Fred’s

My wife and I walk past the array of Newfoundland and Labrador musicians featured—from Ron Haynes to Great Big Sea to The Once to Hey Rosetta! Steve and Tony recommend artists and help me with music history (stuff I’ll use in the historical novel I’m writing). We buy the latest from The Fortunate Ones, The Bliss.

11.  Icebergs

Ever stare at an iceberg for an hour? That’s what we did at Cape Spear. A bit of ice slides off one drydock iceberg that at first looks like a jet plane and then morphs into a bunny rabbit alongside a shoe. The bergy bit lolling to shore transfixes me, and I wonder about the behaviour of icebergs: Most of them are calved from glaciers off the western coast of Greenland, a place I reckon 90% of us won’t see in person, and these behemoths evolve. If we’re lucky, we can see the surface level juts, peaks and fissures, but we can’t possibly know the pain and sorrows hidden underwater, the sentiments that can cause an iceberg to scour the ocean floor; we can’t easily see the beauty beneath, that which can propel the arctic creature to its next destination…until it dies and melds with the ocean…and its hydrogen and oxygen disperse and circle back to its creator.

12.  Guitar Buddy

An older fellow wearing a white scally cap strums his acoustic guitar as he sits on chair on Water Street. A block away from George Street, where the more popular performers are guaranteed a job, this fellow is paid mostly in loose change tossed into his guitar case. He grins as his left hand forms G, D and A chords and his right hand keeps the rhythm to “Looking for Love.” I smile back at him and join him in song and spirit, unfettered by fear. My newfound friend, whose name I don’t ask, broadens his smile and brightens my day.

Until next time, all the best.

Top Twelve: On the Walk and On the Run

Walking near Cardigan Bay, PEI, serenity abounded: No bugs buzzing about as a cool morning breeze blew across my receding hair line. A cow mooed. I smelled hay. A paved road, void of any other activity, stretched before me for about half a kilometer before the asphalt rose to meet the horizon—and then I heard danger. A humming sound. A vehicle off in the distance. Moving too slowly to be a combine on a mission to mince me?

No, just my Walter-Mitty mind conjuring trouble. The car or truck was probably on a different road.

The humming became louder, but I didn’t panic.

I turned left, on to a PEI red road, as a speedy silver car emerged from the hilltop. The driver had no intention of slowing down, and I didn’t establish eye contact for that would have raised suspicion. Instead, I continued my walk down the sloped road, back to the safe house, as my would-be adversary searched in vain.

I continued the mission—regular readers know it’s to delve into Canadian culture to improve Can-Am relations.

After a week-long venture into New Brunswick and then PEI, my accomplice and I have returned stateside…through Calais, Maine, through the rain on Route 9 and to the On the Run convenience store in Bangor, where Canadian spies count their blessings for having avoided the authorities, once again.

Now safe and sound at headquarters, I present these Top Twelve highlights.

1.      CAN-AM Crossing at Calais/St. Stephen: A fifteen-minute wait allowed us to listen to National Public Radio’s program called Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me. Funny.

2.      Familiar Haunt: Niger Reef Tea House, where the chef and his crew served so grand a meal (baked haddock with mango chutney for me; for my wife: steak, grilled on the barbeque five meters from our table on the deck). My wife described the experience as idyllic and then said, “I don’t want it to end.”

3.      New Haunt #1, Algonquin Resort, which some say is inhabited by super natural entities, has re-opened after a much ballyhooed $38M makeover. The hotel looks and feels stately but not overstated, but the dislodged spirits, or perhaps only the highly-touted “jilted bride,” were not altogether happy with the changes. So says one concierge. Nor were some of the construction workers who had to disrupt them.

4.      New Haunt #2, Katy’s Cove: No ghosts, so “haunt” in the supernatural sense isn’t what I mean. But we’ll probably return, even though we’re not swimmers or beach bunnies. As we stood near the canteen at closing time, we admired the cove feeding into Passamaquoddy Bay.

5.      Fish and Chips: Rick’s is renowned and justly so. Less heralded is the Murray River Corner Café. “Best fish sandwich, evah,” my wife wrote in the guest book.

6.      Cape Bear: As tourists and locals flocked to Charlottetown for the Canada Day fireworks, my wife and I watched the swallows flitting to and fro near the cliffs. We had this part of the island almost all to ourselves. One islander, who talked hockey with me before I entered the lighthouse to join my wife, was welcome company.

7.      Canada’s Smallest Library: In Cardigan (the town, not the aforesaid bay), an 11 x 11 humble edifice stood on the shores of the Cardigan River. Inside, on the tile floor, my gaze fixed to the right: five rows of non-fiction. Books included Windows 7 for Dummies, New England: Land of Scenic Splendor. Between Princess Margaret and Going to Extremes, I spied a book whose one-word title in red and gold letters enticed me. Lanny. Could it be Lanny McDonald? The mustached man on the front cover delighted me as I wondered how much he might reveal about my beloved Colorado Rockies. I scanned the index to find familiar names like Mike Kitchen. Ah, but I didn’t have a library card, so my accomplice channeled Jason Bourne and took pictures of the pages that mentioned Rockies players.

8.      Elmira: Conducting research about trains for the novel I’m writing, the kind folks at “the End of the Line,” a PEI Museum and Heritage Foundation site, didn’t have a business card. So they gave me a tiny gift box imprinted with their contact information.

9.      Basin Head: Barefoot on the beach with my wife, I shared my fears and other pent-up feelings (a spy can cry, by the way). After lunch from Skallywags, I took stock of my surroundings: To the south, the Atlantic—where the ferry should be passing any time; to the northeast, windmill tops whirling.

10.  East Point Lighthouse: A pleasant chat with the Visitor Centre workers about their love of PEI and the music they prefer (see Island Music, below). They said the ferry to the Magdalen Islands would be passing by in about fifteen minutes. At the gift shop next door, I became attached to the map showing the deportation of French-speaking inhabitants, from Acadie—present-day Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and PEI—to North American British colonies. I love maps, but it was time to move on.

11.  Island Music: Before we left the gift shop, I listened to the featured music: Fiddlers’ Sons. While in the spy car, we had the radio tuned to CFCY, and I enjoyed new stuff, like “Invisible” by Hunter Hays. I also sung along with a new-to-me, “It’s Friday,” by Dean Brody. The lyrics and beat caught my tongue and toes because Great Big Sea contributed a Celtic cadence to the country tune.

12.  Beating the Heat: With the temperature approaching 30°C and international anti-spy organizations hunting us, we escaped indoors to see a movie. The Grand Seduction, a wonderful story about saving a Newfoundland fishing village, seemed like a confluence of Mad-Eye Moody, Rare Birds and rural revival efforts featured in Saltscapes. (The pre-movie entertainment: my wife reading, from her camera, a few pages from the book she would purchase when we would return home.)

Montreal Top Twelve: The Best of the Belly of the Beast that Beat the Bruins

Fresh off a 3–1 loss to the Canadiens in Game Seven at the TD Garden, my wife and I drove from Boston to Montreal, the belly of the beast. There, we rendezvoused with an erstwhile stateside friend to enjoy the cuisine and culture—and to congratulate Canadiens fans on their victory.

I became, you might say, a Canadien and a Canadian spy, and present my top twelve observations and reasons to visit Montreal.

1.      Saint Louis. Our hotel attendant, a funny and amiable fellow who I‘ve canonized here, hailed cabs and pointed us in the right direction. (Mont Royal is to the north). Louis also told us that the Bruins used to stay at his hotel, on Rue de la Montagne, and he shared a funny interaction he had with Shawn Thornton.

2.      Wrap City. When we told one employee that he looked like Patrice Bergeron, he said someone in Boston told him the same thing. After some friendly hockey talk, we delighted in the food. I recommend the Fifth Avenue wrap and pistachio biscotti.

3.      The McCord Museum. From First Nations to “the Main” to Msr. Masionneuve, the videos, placards and artifacts revealed a wonderful history.

4.      The Hab hockey vibe. On Saturday morning, some five hours before Game One against the Rangers, I walked along avenue des Canadiens—in front of Le Centre Bell—as workers unloaded produce from trucks and television production crews set the stage for announcers. No crowd yet. Serenity surrounded me as I crossed Rue Stanley en route to Gare Centrale.

5.      Second Cup. A youngster wearing a Canadiens shirt listened to his father ask him, in English, what he wanted for breakfast. The father then ordered in French. My turn. I ordered, in English: a chocolate almond croissant to go with my Panini style egg sandwich and coffee, into which I sprinkled chocolate powder. At a nearby table, one Habs fan recalled a story about how he had secured last-minute tickets. I sat at my table and ate as I waited for the train.

6.      Chez Puckbite. Msr. Plouffe and his son, clutching a Canadian and an American flag, greeted me and then treated me to a tour of their home. Puckbite Palace is to hockey memorabilia and painting what the McCord Museum is to history.

7.      Habs vs. Rangers. Not being invested in the outcome, now that my team had exited the playoffs, afforded me relief from the drama and awarded me the joy de vivre de hockey as Puckbite shared his quirky color commentary from his living room. “Subban Incorporated,” he exclaimed as P.K. went end to end. The Canadiens would lose, and I took no solace in that.

8.      Cabbies: From Italy, Lebanon, Algeria and Haiti they had emigrated. All friendly in their own way as they drove us to restaurants. Grazie. Shukran. Merci.

9.      Lola Rosa. While waiting for the vegetarian lasagna, I opened the drawer at my table. It was stuffed with hand-written notes about love and misery and university life (McGill is a few blocks away). Some were funny, but I didn’t write them down and can’t recall them now. But I wrote one of my own. Please let me know if you’ve read it.

10.  Las Sala Rosa. Paella, sangria, limonada and a tortilla española. Muchísimas gracias.

11.  Modavie. Second floor at this bistro in Old Montreal. Chicken Drumette, so yummy. A snare drummer and guitarist accompanying Dray Wood, singing bluesy tunes. Tres magnifique.

12.  What does the Kitsuné say? I still don’t know what a fox says but can tell you that Kitsuné is Japanese for fox and the name of the espresso bar that imports, from a nearby bakery, the best spinach scone. An endearing ambiance (especially for a geography freak and writer), too: a giant world map on the wall and a globe atop a bookshelf containing The Purpose Driven Life (first edition). A most enjoyable Sunday morning, our last day in Montreal.

13.  (Baker’s dozen). Indigo. Blood and Daring. (It’s not about stopping pucks with the face or crashing the crease). John Boyko’s book, featured here on the Agenda with Steve Paikin, is great reading about Canadian-American history— not only for self-assuming Canadian spies like me but anyone interested in the (American?) Civil War.

Meet Monika Moravan: Can/Am Relations

Continued from Meet Monika Moravan, Part II, where the hockey writer, editor, and researcher—most recently the ghostwriter for CONCUSSED! —shared her thoughts on the 2012 U.S. presidential election, CAN/AM relations, and overt Canadians living and/or working in the U.S.

MM I’d say Obama has been good for us... We’ve had a conservative government for the last few years–mind you our conservatives are a little bit left of your democrats—but I think Canadians and Americans on a one-to-one personal level get along. You see a few little different personality quirks in courts here and there. I think the relations are still good, but it’s always very interesting to be up here and watch when you guys have your elections. Our federal elections are done in 30 days.

JD: I know; it’s great.

MM: Yours are two years, effectively they’re 3.5. It’s interesting to see some of the issues. I have family in the States as well, and they’re adamantly against any kind of national or public health programs, even though they’ve had to remortgage their house a couple times to pay those bills.

JD: I’ve read a couple books on the topic. I don’t know if you’ve ever read Fire and Ice, a study of Canadians and Americans. New Englanders are more Canadian, so to speak, than other areas. In Canada, it seems like there’s a certain segment that’s like, “We don’t know what we are, but we’re not American.”

MM: We’re always going to be like that. We’ll always be like that (laughing). We’re a young country as well. It’s just like teenagers, right? You might not know exactly who you are, but you know you’re not your parents. You’re not your aunt and uncle or your cousins. Sometimes that’s the best way of explaining it. However, we fit in just perfectly into the U.S. ...You take a look at the top new anchors, the top journalists…and a lot of those really good US hockey players have Canadian daddies, too. Canadian boys went down there, played in the NHL, married local women. You have your Zach Parises and a slew of the other guys, too.

JD: Matthew Perry is doing pretty well, too.

From PEI to the Maggies: Top Twelve Lessons



Île du Havre au Maisons

Vinyl Café on the radio as my wife and I drive from Naufrage to East Point, Prince Edward Island, we enjoy Stuart McLean’s insights about anthemic songs, such as Guy Lombardo’s Auld Lange Syne as performed by the Good Lovelies.

“I didn’t know Guy Lombardo was a Canadian,” my wife says. Nor did I.

I present, in no particular order, twelve other tidbits I learned during our adventure to PEI and the Magdalen Islands:

1.      At Arthur Mooney & Sons, a haven for potato mavens, I learned that the Russet Burbank and Shepody are the best spuds for making French fries.

2.      Tout à fait is, according to Jocelyn Martin of the Route 3 Eatery, French for “yes indeed,” my new catch-phrase.

3.      From French phrases to fiddle and folk music featured at other PEI restaurants: Fiddler’s Sons, whose CD gets airplay at Windows on the Water, and Tim Chaisson, whose music you might hear at Rick’s.

4.      Best information booth hosts in PEI: The Donnas in Morell because they aided helped my wife identify Covehead Lighthouse and gave me a copy of The Colony of Unrequited Dreams, by Wayne Johnson.

5.      French lesson #1: Per Le Parler Québécois Pour Les Nuls (Speak Quebecois for Dummies), the book I consulted during a five-hour ferry ride from Souris, PEI to Les Îles de la Madeleine, the phrase for “beer league” is ligue du garage.

6.      Les Îles de la Madeleine has two hockey rinks according to local singer/songwriter/hockey player (do I get two minutes for slashing?) Claude Cormier.

7.      Best place for local music and tapas: Vent du Large, where we listened to Cormier sing about his love for Milwaukee.

8.      French Lesson # 2: Cormier’s song “Hockey” is about my favourite sport, not a city in Wisconsin.

9.      La Grave: The historic section of Havre Aubert is home to Vent du Large, idyllic sunsets and the best grilled cheese and accordion music (Café de la Grave).

10.  Boulangeries abound. We especially loved LaFleur de la Sable. Les croissants aux chocolat sont parfait pour un picnic. And the workers were patient with my faltering French pronunciation (see French Lesson #3).

11.  French Lesson #3: You don’t pronounce the “g” in L'Étang-du-Nord, another noteworthy area to visit.

12.  Havre-sur-Mer, Sympathetic Inn: The best host, the best French lessons, the best breakfasts, the best of the best, la crème de la crème. Calme et à la sérénité, tout à fait.

Bruce Bell: Toronto’s Tour Guide and American Spy

“In the beginning, I always loved history,” says Bruce Bell, Toronto’s premiere tour guide, as he reflects upon his youth in Sudbury, Ontario. “Mom and Dad loved history. We as kids were always driving somewhere; getting in the car and going places.”

One such destination: Toronto, about a five-hour drive southeast of Sudbury, where not only the history intrigued him but also the architecture. When he was seventeen, Bell moved to the big city. Not to pursue a formal degree in either of his favourite subjects, though. With a walk-on bit part in the movie “Class of ‘44” (in 1972) on his resume, Bell returned, for good, to Toronto in 1973.

For twenty years, Bell bussed tables, acted, wrote and produced plays, and did stand-up comedy—he was a founding comedic member of Yuk Yuk’s Stand up Comedy Cabaret. “Never making much money,” Bell says, laughing, “but having a really good time.”

All this while, though, history tugged at his coattails. Was he really that passionate about acting? Bell recalls, “I was still reading up on Toronto history. Friends would come to Toronto, and I would show them around. And I realized: This is what I want to do; this is it.”

Not until his late forties, however, did Bell take action. “This is what I want to do” became “I’m going to do this.” He says, “I stopped whatever else (I was) doing, and (said) I’m going to become what I always wanted to be.”

“The Internet changed everything,” Bell says. The wonders of a Web site. Tourists contacted him. Business began to bloom, and so did Bell. In 1999, He began documenting Toronto’s history in The Bulletin, a widely-read community newspaper, and he wrote the book on the St. Lawrence neighborhood where he now lives. The St. Lawrence Market, in turn, named Bell its official historian in 2002.

The love of history his parents had instilled in him, his affection for architecture, and his performing experience: These factors guided Bell to his true calling, and he incorporates them all into his act. This walking, talking, taste-testing and teaching tour guide relishes the challenge every tour presents. An audience of one? Or twenty-five? Visiting from Ireland? America?

He tailors his tours to the personality and predisposition of his customers. “I can pretty much suss them out in the first couple minutes,” Bell says. “There are some people who are very serious about their history, and I enjoy that.”

Especially if said history buffs are Americans. “Nothing makes me more happy (than) if I get an American on a tour who knows his history, who knows a bit about Canadian history. That is so enjoyable, how we can go back an forth.”

To and fro, he says is the nature of American and Canadian history. We were once part of the same country, after all. American history students are familiar with the Thirteen Colonies, but they tend to forget about Canada’s influence on the States.

Bell loves taking Americans to two places. “I take a lot of them to St. James Cathedral,” he says. A loyalist haunt in the heart of the St. Lawrence neighbourhood, the cathedral served as a hospital during the War of 1812. Bell says the church is where many ex-Bostonians—descendents of the Mayflower who believed that God could not speak to a president—congregated here. These United Empire Loyalists, many of whom lost their property as America emerged as a nation to be reckoned with, set the foundation for Canada as an English-speaking country. “Our heritage,” Bell tells his audience, “is American.”

The other landmark Bell visits is Commerce Court, what some call Commerce Banking Hall There, Bell encourages Americans to imagine Penn Station in New York, as the grand and ornate edifice stood before demolition commenced in 1960. “This is what you lost,” he says to Yanks. “This is what was torn down in 1966 (demolition took three years). When you enter this bank, pretend you’re entering Penn Station and you’re about to catch a train to go to Philadelphia or Boston.”

New York and Boston: Both cities Bell has visited. “I really loved New York City a lot.” He hasn’t been to Boston since about 2002, but he’s eager to return. First, though, he’s going to revisit Chicago, to lead a tour. You see, Bell is more than than a connoisseur of Canadian culture, more than a trusted Toronto historian: He loves that which transcends our borders—the shared history, the architectural similarities, and the friendly ties. He is an American spy.

Additional reading:

Boston Globe Article (May 2012) by Paul E. Kandarian

Travel and Transitions (2005)

Follow the Music, Part I: From Bublé to Buffalo

A camera flash pierces the predawn darkness as the AMHL Photographer and I approach the customs booth at the CAN/AM border. A uniformed U.S. official tells us to park the car. No re-entry into the States, not yet. Random search.

Five minutes later and inside the interrogation center, we answer questions about our erstwhile whereabouts and the purpose of our most recent trip to Canada. Short answers. Keep it boring for the border patrol.

Tuesday, November 22
Three days earlier and amidst the hills of CAN/AM country, the cows and blanketed horses oblivious to our adventure and my mission, my wife announced the next music selection: “Break out the Bublé,” she said and then inserted the Canadian crooner’s new Christmas album into the CD player.

We were surprised that Michael B. had decided to record “Santa Baby.” But the hockey-loving singer had deployed a sublime stratagem: replace “baby” with “buddy” and convert the feminine wish list of presents to more male-friendly gifts such as a convertible coupe, Canucks tickets, and a chance for more ice time on the first line.

Songs from Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers’ latest album, Gift Horse, accompanied us to the border. Undetected, my wife and I entered Ontario, and drove west on the 417.

Switching from CD to FM, we listened to the news: Capital Hoedown Country Music Festival announced the 2012 lineup that will include stars representing the Stars and Stripes and the Maple Leaf: Taylor Swift and Reba; Paul Brandt and Terri Clark. And then Blue Rodeo’s “Lost Together,” guided us as we proceeded—without a hitch—to the safe house in Ottawa.

Au cœur du quartier universitaire, the bilingual chargé d'affaires and his studious special agent (a Goldie Poo named Sunny) greeted us at the covert entrance. The pooch padded about the operations centre as his superior sat with us at the kitchen table, highlighting points of interest/mission critical minutia on a map of Canada’s capital city.

Wednesday, November 23
Walking north along the winsome and winding (and not yet frozen) Rideau Canal, I admired the patina on Parliament Hill, the government buildings’ greenish luster most majestic at dusk.

As my wife documented the visual splendor of the illuminated Christmas tree at the corner of Rideau and Colonel By Drive, I followed the music emanating from what locals call “the Underpass.” “Let Your Love Flow” streamed from speakers, or so it seemed. I danced, a subtle solo act (didn’t want to arouse suspicion) as the Bellamy Brothers (band member Randy Hiebert is a Winnipegger) song skipped in and out.

What’s with the intermittent music, I wondered. Was I two-stepping on and off a secret wire that triggered the tune to stop and start? The ineffable pattern (and my complementary moves) continued as “Red Neck Girl” streamed—and stopped—and started from the secret speakers.

I watched the Photographer descend the ramp, toward me, and then as we ascended the other side, the music stopped again. For good, as we walked toward the canal and returned to the safe house, where we listened to the sweet music of…

NHL hockey on Internet radio, as sung by the Toast of Terrace Bay (ON) and Buffalo Sabres’s announcer Rick Jeanneret. “He scooores,” said the Voice of the Sabres after Thomas Vanek gave the Sabres a 2–0 lead over the Boston Bruins. (Even sweeter for B’s fans like me: Benoit Pouliot’s under-the crossbar goal in the shootout lifted Boston over Buffalo.)

Stay tuned for Part II

Puckbite Interviews Captain CanAmerica

Image courtesy of Puckbite

Captain CanAmerica visited Quebec last week as a guest of the Montreal Poutine Hockey Club. He sat down for a chat with Puckbite.

Introducing Captain CanAmerica

Dear reader,

I present my new business partner, Captain CanAmerica. All yours, mon ami.

Captain CanAmerica, here to serve. Okay, I’m a fledgling superhero (props to Puckbite for his portrait of me) working on my tagline. Given the early stage of my development, I can reveal little of who I am. In comic book-parlance (I’m still waiting for an invitation to Comicon de Montréal 2011), I am the Canadian spy’s sidekick.

While my partner’s modus operandi is stealth—he has eluded many would-be interrogators—my method is more overt. You’ll see me on guest posts here, and perhaps on other sites, as we—my partner, you, and I—combat the common villain: our inherent intolerance of those whom we do not yet know or understand.

Captain Canuck-meets-Captain America, I am not. A maple-leafed belt and star-spangled shield do not suit me. I endured no alien rays or scientific experiments to strengthen my skeletal and muscular systems.

My sole superpower (as far as we know) at which you might marvel: summoning my best self. With a super solar-powered lamp embedded in the butt end of my recycled wood hockey stick, I aim to illuminate the people who populate the provinces and territories that comprise Canada, and thus enlighten all kind-hearted citizens on both sides of the 49th parallel.

Time for me to make like a zipper, and fly.