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.

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.

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)