Anchor Struck

In my extremely brief  (two hours) surfing career, I learned that the low point between two

waves is called a trough. I’ve just gotten out of a metaphysical trough. Since 2005,  it happens

every July 2nd and 3rd.  That’s the gap between Canada’s independence day and the U.S.’s.

The proximity of the two dates sets me to pondering about the gravity of the move Jude and

I have made from our native land.  Emigration is not a choice to be taken lightly at any age,

and we did it on the downhill side of our 50’s.  I use this 48-hour span to reflect on the

wisdom of our decision and our progress with the transition.

I have no regrets.  I was and am dismayed and disgusted by U.S. politics.  The polarization

of the Democrats and Republicans has only lengthened since our exit.  The screeching from

the Rabid Right about the recent affirmation of Obamacare has become so shrill that it has

the wolves up here howling.  It’s the New Holocaust, don’t you know.

I simply could no longer live in a nation that sought conflict with the flimsiest of pretenses.

I was in the Marine Corps in the late ’60’s.  I witnessed the general brutality of war and the

specific futility of the Vietnam debacle.  It will haunt me the rest of my days.

I’ve made precious few leaps of faith. Moving here was the biggest. We knew no one and had

no jobs lined up, but still risked selling our house and blithely heading north.  A Canadian

official later explained to us that “normal” people don’t do it that way.

What followed is the essence of this blog: a grand adventure filled with new friends, terrific

neighbours, abundant challenges, and more fun than a barrel of Marx Brothers.  Plus a bear.

In mid-August we’ll start our eighth year on the farm.  We’ve been here long enough to

witness some climate change.  When we first got here, we averaged two inches of rain in

June.  This year we had nearly eight.  Our Julys had been similarly dry until last year,

when we had almost six inches.  We’ve already had aboot two inches this time around.

I was in Kansas recently to see family and friends.  As rewarding as that was, I couldn’t avoid

noticing the edge in the air — a free-floating anxiety eager to attach itself to something. I miss

my loved ones there, but I don’t want to go back.

And we won’t.  Jude and I recently applied for Canadian citizenship.

Happy 236th birthday, America.