O Canada: The Great White North—Part 1

I have a Canadian cousin, Ella, who says “eh” a lot. “How’s it goin’, eh?” or “that was a big moose, eh?” My brother, sister, and I would make fun of it behind her back inserting “eh” at the end of everything we said and giggle. She is a cousin of my father’s and one of many Canadian relatives that I have up north. My father was born in Lethbridge, Alberta and his mother, my grandmother of course, was Canadian as well. Grandma maintained her citizenship throughout her life although she lived the US. I once visited the farm where dad grew up when I was quite young. Don’t really remember much about it though, except it was a bright, sunny wind swept day. The Alberta prairie was vast and sweeping, and the falling down buildings were over grown with tall yellow grass. We found an old wagon wheel and took it home to Oregon with us. Dad tied it to the back of our big green, converted bread truck camper (named the “Green Giant”) so we looked like modern day pioneers. People made fun of our “spare tire.”

I have traveled many times to Canada both as a child and an adult. As a family, we would drive from Portland in the Green Giant across Oregon, up through Idaho, east into Montana, and north across the border. There were many trips to visit relatives in Lethbridge and spend beautiful weeklong stays at cousin Ella’s cabin in Waterton Lakes National Park. Waterton sits on the Montana border and connects with Glacier National Park in the US and is an incredibly beautiful place nestled in the Rocky Mountains. Thick pine forests and alpine lakes scooped between jagged, snow capped peaks are the big stars of the park. Deer, bear, and moose would amble by behind the cabin. We would hike to Cameron Falls, row boats on Cameron Lake, and climb the Bears Hump for breathtaking 360 views. As an adult, I’ve skied in fantastic Whistler/Blackcomb twice and gorgeous Lake Louise once. Spent a whirlwind weekend in Toronto, got a francophile fix in Quebec, and traveled by train and car around New Brunswick on a romantic writing and photo assignment for a gay travel web site.

Today (Nov. 19), I am on the Amtrak Cascades to Vancouver, BC for a long weekend in part to hang with my friend James. I will never forget the first time I came to Vancouver. It was more than 10 years ago and I was heading to Whistler on one of my annual ski trips. As my flight came in for a landing, it happened to be a rare, clear blue January day. The city was a sparkling vision in the sun and snow covered mountains hovered over the city reflecting in the bay beneath. I think I gasped. Then, on the trip to Whistler by bus, the driver unexpectedly announced that he was taking a detour to “show us something.” My fellow passengers glanced at each other with “uh oh” in their eyes and impatience on their faces. He took us to a rushing river about a mile off the highway. The trees and sky were full of bald eagles. I think I gasped.

Recently, I discovered that I might be a Canadian citizen. The thought had crossed my mind before. A partner and I had considered moving to Toronto during the annoying days of the Bush administration. Relatively liberal politics, gay marriage, and national health care were looking very attractive at that time. Finally though, neither of us were feeling Toronto as a place to live and it ended there. Plus, it seemed that officially becoming a Canadian was not an easy task. And then I thought, since my father and my grandmother were Canadian, would that make it easier for me to apply for citizenship? I wondered...

A few months ago I had lunch with a friend in New York. She told me of an article she had read not long before about how it had become easier to obtain Canadian citizenship. Scanning the internet and finding the story, I discovered this: essentially, based on a new amendment enacted in April 2009, if a person was born in Canada and left the country for whatever reason, that person’s citizenship could be reinstated. And, subsequently, that person’s first generation descendants, even if they were born outside of Canada, could be eligible for citizenship as well. Holy crap, I thought, thats me! Three times I took a little quiz posted on the Canadian Immigration website which told me, “yes, you are a Canadian.” Wow. Really?

Why would I want to become a Canadian citizen? Well, that’s a question I’m still working on. I guess it depends on if it really happens and I'll go from there. Relatively liberal politics, gay marriage, and national health care are still attractions. Natural beauty is a big one too. I love maple syrup. I would live in hip, cool, cosmo Vancouver. Did I mention it’s close to Whistler with some of the best skiing in North America? Yes, well, it is. I seem to be at a point in my life where my options are wide open. I’m unemployed; I have a career I can take anywhere; I have no particular home city; I’m ripe for change. I can go anywhere and do just about anything. So why not? Let’s see what happens. After all, I believe I can maintain my US citizenship. How cool would it be to call two great countries home?

This realization has set in motion the application process — a search for dates and documents, a rifle through my father’s past, and this trip to Vancouver. Now (Nov. 23), I am again on the Amtrak Cascades heading back to Portland with my certified documents and official citizenship photos safely packed in my man-bag. I have everything I need and am ready to send it all to Nova Scotia to be scrutinized. Whether or not my application will go through remains to be seen and it may take months before I know. So far the process has gone very smoothly and I wonder where the glitch will be. But something is urging me forward, telling me to see it through, and keep going. And where I end up I have no idea. Getting there will be interesting, eh?

Stay tuned for part 2...