Further Thoughts on the 51st State Thing

 

I have been looking through a picture book inherited from my uncle, on the Irish influence on the American culture.

Reading it, it becomes obvious to me that the American Irish culture is also my culture. I remember reading the “Bringing Up Father” Sunday strip at my grandparents’ house. Only now do I realize that I unconsciously identified Jiggs and Maggie with my grandfather and grandmother. And yes, corned beef and cabbage was a favourite meal growing up. Grandma would sing us to sleep to “Sidewalks of New York.” 

We never did think of ourselves as different. At least not we Irish. We were just Irish who happened to have settled north instead of south of the border. Was it because of some deep loyalty to Britain or the crown? Hardly. It was originally, surely, just from hardscrabble necessity. We all did what we could and made what we could of the chances we had in the places we landed. From our perspective, the border between us was arbitrary. We were one people. Cousin Fergus was doing very well in the States.

Given that Canada and the US have generally accepted immigrants from the same places, is this not probably true of all other ethnic groups? Do Canadian Jews consider themselves a different culture than American Jews? Canadian Italians than American Italians? 

I have a warm attachment to American culture. It is my culture, as it is the culture in which I grew up. Watching Roy Rogers and dreaming of being a cowboy. Reading the adventures of Tom Swift. Watching anything from Disney. Playing baseball into the dusk—did you know that the first baseball game was played in Ontario? We loved anything from England too, but it always came to us as something admired, but exotic. Admired, perhaps, largely for being exotic. We were Americans, and perhaps lower class because of it.

I cannot see a problem with Canada joining the US. Canadian independence has always felt a little forced, like adolescent rebellion. It might be like growing up.