Continuing on with our international theme from April here at CloudEight, I wanted to relate a tale of my American ignorance. As background, you should know that Owen, at age 5 apparently already preparing for a summer of backpacking around Europe when he is 19, or perhaps sagely predicting the return of the draft, has essentially renounced his American citizenship and declared himself a Canadian. This started awhile ago when our nanny brought him a Canadian Soccer t-shirt back from a trip to Canada. Owen has since periodically declared himself to be a member of the Canadian soccer team, who apparently use our backyard as their stateside practice facility. His love of Canada has most recently been manifesting itself in his cranking out about 6 Canadian flags a day using 8 1/2 x 11 sheets of paper and a red crayon.
Anyway, Owen had been on about Canada early in our Florida trip awhile back, telling us he was now Canadian and no longer an American citizen. As we were walking through the parking lot of the condominium complex where my parents were staying, we spied an SUV with Ontario plates. Shifting into “teaching Dad” mode, I pointed it out to Owen – “Look Owen, this SUV is from Canada.”
On a roll, I decided to “teach” a bit more: “Do you know why Canadian license plates have a crown on them??” I asked.
“No Dad, why??”
“Because Canada has a queen!” I stated authoritatively.
Now, in my defense, I have since learned that Canada is a constitutional monarchy, with Queen Elizabeth of England as the token Head of State. In my not so defense, I must confess that I was not armed with such knowledge at the moment the words came out of my mouth and, due to a temporary brain cramp, believed that Canada had its own Queen. I half-realized the ridiculousness of my statement even as it was leaving my mouth and all would have ended well, despite my momentary lapse into ignorance, if I had corrected myself right then. In fact, Deanna began to wheel around to helpfully say “Canada doesn’t have a queen, you moron.”
Unfortunately, before she had the chance, a gentleman appeared before us out of a stairwell wearing a t-shirt that said “Canada” in 10-inch high letters. His appearance was so perfectly timed to Owen earnestly saying “really Dad?” that it was almost like an elderly Canadian fairy had suddenly descended from the Great White North and materialized before our eyes. Inexorably propelled by this confluence of events, I continued bravely on: “Here Owen, this man is from Canada, we can ask him. Does Canada have a queen??”
The man gave me a sort of bemused quizzical look that let me know almost immediately that not only was I wrong, but I sounded like a complete stereotype of the ignorant American, imparting false information to my impressionable young son. “No.” he said testily. “We have a prime minister.”
Not content to let it go yet, and unable to stop myself, I pushily demanded: “Then why is there a crown on all of your license plates??” Everything sinking in at last, I then sputtered “Is it because of Canada’s former status as part of the British Commonwealth.” Yes, I actually uttered such a sentence.
“Yes.” he said patiently, by this time staring at me more with pity in his eyes than anything else.
“Excuse my ignorance.” I choked out, and hustled Owen off up the stairs; the same stairs up which Deanna had quickly fled upon realizing where I was headed with the Canadian.
So there you have it; my unfortunate contribution to Canada’s view of Americans as self-absorbed and ignorant of events beyond their own borders. I will be doing penance by leading the family on a short foray into Canada on an upcoming weekend and will report back for your benefit some additional actual facts about our fair and mysterious neighbor to the north.
Anyway, Owen had been on about Canada early in our Florida trip awhile back, telling us he was now Canadian and no longer an American citizen. As we were walking through the parking lot of the condominium complex where my parents were staying, we spied an SUV with Ontario plates. Shifting into “teaching Dad” mode, I pointed it out to Owen – “Look Owen, this SUV is from Canada.”
On a roll, I decided to “teach” a bit more: “Do you know why Canadian license plates have a crown on them??” I asked.
“No Dad, why??”
“Because Canada has a queen!” I stated authoritatively.
Now, in my defense, I have since learned that Canada is a constitutional monarchy, with Queen Elizabeth of England as the token Head of State. In my not so defense, I must confess that I was not armed with such knowledge at the moment the words came out of my mouth and, due to a temporary brain cramp, believed that Canada had its own Queen. I half-realized the ridiculousness of my statement even as it was leaving my mouth and all would have ended well, despite my momentary lapse into ignorance, if I had corrected myself right then. In fact, Deanna began to wheel around to helpfully say “Canada doesn’t have a queen, you moron.”
Unfortunately, before she had the chance, a gentleman appeared before us out of a stairwell wearing a t-shirt that said “Canada” in 10-inch high letters. His appearance was so perfectly timed to Owen earnestly saying “really Dad?” that it was almost like an elderly Canadian fairy had suddenly descended from the Great White North and materialized before our eyes. Inexorably propelled by this confluence of events, I continued bravely on: “Here Owen, this man is from Canada, we can ask him. Does Canada have a queen??”
The man gave me a sort of bemused quizzical look that let me know almost immediately that not only was I wrong, but I sounded like a complete stereotype of the ignorant American, imparting false information to my impressionable young son. “No.” he said testily. “We have a prime minister.”
Not content to let it go yet, and unable to stop myself, I pushily demanded: “Then why is there a crown on all of your license plates??” Everything sinking in at last, I then sputtered “Is it because of Canada’s former status as part of the British Commonwealth.” Yes, I actually uttered such a sentence.
“Yes.” he said patiently, by this time staring at me more with pity in his eyes than anything else.
“Excuse my ignorance.” I choked out, and hustled Owen off up the stairs; the same stairs up which Deanna had quickly fled upon realizing where I was headed with the Canadian.
So there you have it; my unfortunate contribution to Canada’s view of Americans as self-absorbed and ignorant of events beyond their own borders. I will be doing penance by leading the family on a short foray into Canada on an upcoming weekend and will report back for your benefit some additional actual facts about our fair and mysterious neighbor to the north.
