Mon Pays
Do you know that fabled Gilles Vigneault song?
"Mon pays ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver," crooned Vigneault all those years ago.
The song is fiercely nationalistic and expresses Vigneault's view of his corner of the world, Quebec.
Like Vigneault, I'm fiercely proud of my country and I've gotten quite an education in being Canadian.
Let me tell you about mon pays and where I'm from.
Where am I from?
When I'm asked the question "Where are you from?", I can't help but pause.
Jess, and I feel like most people, don't have to think. The response is automatic.
"Lunenburg, Nova Scotia," Jess would say.
I often get a few laughs as I search for an answer, mentally scrolling my endless list of former addresses and residences.
The fact of the matter is, I didn't grow up in one town or province.
My Dad is an RCMP helicopter pilot and as a result, it was standard procedure for my family to move every few years. We're originally from Gander and there's no doubt that my Dad is a Newfoundlander, through and through. I've got vivid memories of road trips in which my brothers and I were packed into a van, driving across the country to visit family out East. The whole time, my parents blasted the jigs and reels, from Great Big Sea to the Fables. To this day, my Dad stills says "fadder 'n mudder". He is a prince of the Rock.
But if my parents are Newfoundlanders, what am I? We've always visited at least once a year but there seemed to be a disconnect.
I consider myself a Maritimer but it's...complicated. So much of my childhood is filled with my family's stories about climbing Signal Hill or hanging around the Flyer's Club in Gander. Anything important seems to have happened out East but somehow, my birth certificate is plastered with Saskatchewan's insignia.
From coast to coast
Like I said, I've moved a lot.
Born in Saskatchewan. Moved to Comox, Vancouver Island. On to Vancouver, London, Ottawa, Dieppe, Lunenburg, Halifax and now St. John's.
It is only in the last four or five years that my family returned to the East coast, moving to Dieppe, New Brunswick.
It was a homecoming. Immediately, we were swamped by aunts and uncles and endless comrade cousins.
Although separated through geography, I was culturally steeped in the salt and brine of Canada's East coast. I feel at home here, especially in St. John's, which is populated by a half dozen of my clan.
However, I wouldn't change my upbringing for the world.
I've seen more of Canada than some get to see in a lifetime. Each and every province has quiet, hidden treasures to explore. From British Columbia, to Ontario, to New Brunswick, each offers an infinitely unique and unfathomable experience.
Lessons
I've learned a lot from my travels.
In British Columbia (of all places), I was enrolled in French Immersion and found myself in a vibrant French community. I'm fully bilingual and cherish every chance to use my French. In New Brunswick, my linguistic knowledge gave me endless opportunities.
In Ontario, I really got to know myself. I got my first degree, sharpened my love of language and literature. I met my best friends and enjoyed my time in London, Toronto and Ottawa.
As previously mentioned, I consider myself an East coaster. It is among the forests of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia's rocky coast that I finally got to live in the world of my childhood stories. Halifax was a joy.
I even went to sea and worked on the historic Bluenose II and met a certain someone (I wonder who?).
The greatest lesson from my travels: I love every kilometre of this country.
From the ocean, to the plains, to the mountains, Canada has so much to offer.
Unlike M. Vigneault, my country is not a solitary thing or province.
I firmly believe that Canada has something to offer everyone.
I consider myself a proud East coaster but all of the places I've lived are unified by one absolute fact: they're Canadian.
To answer the question: I've seen all the provinces and I can tell you, I am Canadian.
