My Moving Mix

I love my iPod. My iPod is one of my most reliable companions. My iPod can inspire more emotions and reflection than a sappy soap opera and historical documentary combined. One of my favorite things about my iPod is that I can create playlists for any mood. I have a playlist for when I’m mad, one for playing before soccer games, one for when I need cheering up, one for morning motivation, one for laughs, one for running, and even one for my dogs. Some playlists are created for temporary needs, such as road trip playlists, or playlists created for entertaining visitors.

One of my playlists was created for a temporary purpose—to help me get through my move to Canada two years ago. However, that playlist remains on my iPod and may be there forever. When I listen to those songs now, the emotions I was feeling two years ago come rushing back. And, listening to those songs helps me remember the difficulties I overcame when I went through such an emotionally trying transition. I’ve been thinking about my expatriation to Canada more lately, as it has been just two years since I moved, and I thought I should give the songs the credit they deserve for helping me preserve my sanity at that time. These are the songs that kept me going when I was still in limbo, not knowing if Sarah and I would be able to stay together. These are the songs that were my crutch as I packed up my stuff and donated all but my most important possessions. These are the songs that gave me strength as I made the ten hour trip from Grand Rapids, MI to Cambridge, ON. These are the songs that helped me keep my chin up when I was new in Canada and felt very alone.

The lyrics of some of the songs on that playlist are so eerily apt to my situation and my move that I still get chills or teary-eyed at some of them. In fact, I wrote a little synopsis of what was going on in my life two years ago using only excerpts from those songs:

This doesn’t feel like freedom. This ain’t my American dream. Nothing’s belonged, nothing’s been “yes,” nowhere’s been home, and I’m ready to be limbo no more. I’d give anything to get what's fair. Somewhere there's a place for us. It's time to make a move. I've got my heart set on anywhere but here I'm staring down myself, counting up the years. We gotta move. This ain't no living. I wouldn't stay around if the money let me linger on. When the white oak (national tree of the USA) has no answer, it turns its back on you. The maple calls you, shows you something new. In Canada, they treat you like a queen. In Canada, they never will be mean. I hear spring is nice in Canada. I start to wonder why I’m here, not there.

I sit with filled frames and my books and my dogs at my feet. My friends by my side, my past in a heap. Thrown out most of my things. You can have my stereo. Only kept what I need to carve something consistent. We said goodbye to a dear old friend, and we packed our bags and left feeling sad. I've got a heart full of rubber bands that keep getting caught on things. And I know it aches and my heart it breaks--I can only take so much. I’ve got to leave it behind. We’ll leave behind the worst we've known and build ourselves a brand new home--maybe then we'll find the time we've lost I’m ready to wake up, there in the exodus, on the beautiful side of somewhere. So I packed my car and headed east. There’s something exciting about leaving everything behind. Turn your head and don't look back. Just set your sails for a new horizon--don't turn around, don't look down. And you know it's really not surprising--it gets better when you get there. I remember my home--I left there with bitter words. I won't forget the place I come from. We said hello as we turned the key. A new roof over our heads--somewhere I belong. My roots in the ground, something at last I can feel a part of. It's a shame that we have lost so many things that we will never find again. But it doesn't matter anymore, anyways.

Below is a list of the songs on that playlist and a snippet of the lyrics for each. The songs with an asterisk are the ones that have been the most meaningful to me, and I have posted their entire lyrics. I hope that anyone who might be moving to somewhere new and unknown can find solace and encouragement in their words and music as I have (and still do).

No More—Matt Pond PA
“When the white oak has no answer, it turns its back on you. The maple calls you, shows you something new.”

Even Rats—The Slip
“I hear spring is nice in Canada. . .you can have my stereo.”

American Idiot—Greenday
“Well maybe I’m the faggot America. I’m not part of a redneck agenda.”

In a Big Country—Big Country
“I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered, but you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered”

Somewhere—from West Side Story
“We'll find a new way of living, we'll find a way of forgiving. Somewhere . . . There's a place for us.”

American Dream—Switchfoot
“It doesn’t feel like freedom. This ain’t my American dream.”

Godspeed You Deathwolf—Sleepless Nights
“I don’t want to move to Toronto.”

Breakaway—Kelly Clarkson
“Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye, gotta take a risk, take a chance, make a change and break away. Out of the darkness and into the sun, but I won't forget the place I come from.”

*Limbo No More—Alanis Morissette
“My house, my role
My friends, my man
My devotion to god
All the more feels indefinite

Nothing’s been clear
Nothing’s been in
Nothing’s felt true
And I’ve never had both feet in
Nothing’s belonged
Nothing’s been yes
Nowhere’s been home
And I’m ready to be limbo no more

My taste, my peers
My identity, my affiliation
All the more feels indefinite

Nothing’s been clear
Nothing’s been in
Nothing’s felt true
And I’ve never had both feet in
Nothing’s belonged
Nothing’s been yes
Nowhere’s been home
And I’m ready to be limbo no more

I sit with filled frames
And my books and my dogs at my feet
My friends by my side
My past in a heap
Thrown out most of my things
Only kept what I need to carve
Something consistent and notably me

Tattoo on my skin
My teacher’s in heart
My house is a home
Something at last I can feel a part of
Sense of myself
My purpose is clear
My roots in the ground
Something at last I can feel a part of
Something aligned
To finally commit
Somewhere I belong
‘Cuz I’m ready to be limbo no more
My wisdom applied
A firm foundation
A vow to myself
‘Cuz I’m ready to be limbo no more”

*We Said Hello, Goodbye (Don’t Look Back)—Phil Collins
“We said goodbye to a dear old friend
And we packed our bags and left feeling sad
It's the only way
We said hello as we turned the key
A new roof over our heads
Gave a smile
It's the only way
Only way

Turn your head
And don't look back
Set your sails for a new horizon
Don't turn around don't look down
Oh there's life across the tracks
And you know it's really not surprising
It gets better when you get there

Well it really don't matter much where you are
Cause home is in your heart
It's a feeling that you wake with one day
Some people keep running all their life
And still find they haven't gone too far
They don't see it's the feeling inside - the feeling inside

Turn your head and don't look back
Just set your sails for a new horizon
Don't turn around don't look down
Oh there's life across the tracks
And you know it's really not surprising
It gets better when you get there

We said hello as we turned the key
A new roof over our heads
Gave a smile - it's the only way”

*What We Have Been Waiting For—Daphne Loves Derby
“I have been waiting for July to come around
I hear the summer whispering the things to come

We have been waiting for the sun to show its face
Thank you, sweet winter
But now we're desperate to move on

We leave behind the worst we've known
And build ourselves a brand new home
Maybe then we'll find the time we've lost

Set us free, sweet summer day
We've been waiting much too long for you to come
Save me from the worst I've known
And let me relive the days I've thrown away

Times have changed so quickly
It's a shame that we have lost so many things that we will never find again
But it doesn't matter anymore, anyways
Summer sings a song to us that I can't ignore
That I'm desperate for
I tried too hard to keep my calm but I just cannot anymore, anyways

We leave behind the worst we've known
And build ourselves a brand new home
Maybe then we'll find the time we've lost

Set us free, sweet summer day
We've been waiting much too long for you to come
Save me from the worst I've known
And let me relive the days I've thrown away

Remember all the times we've wasted
Drowning ourselves in foolish dreams
We were betrayed by our own hope
But the summer will be a sweet revenge

The end”

*Stop and Stare—OneRepublic
“This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us
It's time to make a move, I'm shaking off the rust
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here
I'm staring down myself, counting up the years

Steady hands, just take the wheel
And every glance is killing me
Time to make one last appeal
For the life I leave

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be.
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here, not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see

They're trying to come back, all my senses push
Untie the weight bags, I never thought I could
Steady feet, don't fail me now
Gotta run till you can't walk
But something pulls my focus out
And I'm standing down

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be.
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here, not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared
I've become what I can't be
Oh, do you see what I see”

*Another White Dash—Butterfly Boucher
“There is something exciting about leaving everything behind
There is something deep and pulling leaving everything behind
Something about having everything you think you'll ever need
Sitting in the seat next to you

And I watch another white dash, another white dash, another white dash fly beside us
And I watch another white dash, another white dash, another white dash fly beneath us

Away away..

There is yelling of an engine, a constant rattling door
There is serious, deep and mumbled a conversation I'm not in
Flickering lights, shadows of trees makes me blink my eyes
Makes the land appear like a really old movie

And I watch another white dash, another white dash, another white dash fly beside us
And I watch another white dash, another white dash, another white dash fly beneath us

Away away..

I've got a heart full of rubber bands that keep getting caught on things

And I count another white dash, another white dash, another white dash, I drift off at eighty.. something!
And I count another white dash, another white dash, another white dash out of time with the music
Another white dash, another white dash, another white dash, fly beside us
And I count another white dash, another white dash, another white dash fly beneath us

There is something exciting about leaving everything behind
There is something deep and pulling leaving everything behind
Something about having everything you think you'll ever need
Sitting in the seat next to you”

Waiting in Canada—Jann Arden
“Drive your car all night by just starlight to Canada”

Nothing Left to Lose—Mat Kearney
“There’s nothing left to lose. So I packed my car and headed east. . .push the pedal down, and watch the world around fly by us.

Catch the Sun—Doves
“I ain’t ever going back, back to the place that I can’t stand.”

The Beautiful Side—The Wallflowers
“I’m ready to wake up, there in the exodus, on the beautiful side of somewhere. I’m ready to come down and see us both somehow, on the beautiful side of somewhere.”

Gotta Get Thru This—Daniel Beddingfield
“I gotta get through this. . .just another day and then I’ll hold you tight.”

Miles From Our Home—Cowboy Junkies
“You're miles from your home, miles from your home. But that's where I want to be.”

Start the Car—Jude Cole
“Start the car, we gotta move. This ain't no living, this ain't no groove. . .
But somewhere waiting there's something more. Start the car.”

Don’t Look Back—Thallia
“Trust your heart, you'll make it somehow. It's everything you're looking for. . .Don't look back, keep straight ahead. You know what is right--out of mind is out of sight.”

Check Yes Juliet—We the Kings
“Run, baby, run. Don't ever look back. They'll tear us apart if you give them the chance.”

Brand New Day—Sting
“The river's wide, we'll swim across. We're starting up a brand new day.”

Walk On—U2
“And I know it aches and your heart it breaks--you can only take so much. Walk on. Leave it behind. You've got to leave it behind.”

Somerville—The Pernice Brothers
“I wouldn't stay around if the money let me linger on until the end of December and waste another year like a minute, trying to forget, but I remember my home--I left there with bitter words.”

In Canada—B. J. Snowden
“In Canada, they treat you like a queen. In Canada, they never will be mean.”

Canadian Idiot—Weird Al Yankovic
“And you know what else is too funny? Their stupid Monopoly money.”

Guard it Closely—The Jealous Sound
“There's an empty chair here--we guard it closely. You're so far gone.”

No Way Back—Foo Fighters
“There is no way back from here, but I don't care--no way back from here.”

My Third Canadian Autumn Begins

I’ve always found it remarkable how many people say that autumn is their favorite season. You would think that people would prefer the lazy doldrums of summer. Yet, ask any North American to name their favorite season, and you will invariably get a response indicating either fall or both summer and fall.

I think the explanation for this is that fall is a time of year when people often start something new—ironically, a season of death represents new beginnings for so many. Either it’s off to school, sending kids to school, the start of a new sports season, or even getting new clothes that provide a bit more protection from the elements than the summer tank tops and shorts. One of my friends and I were recently discussing how powerful seasons and holidays are in prompting memories and emotions—it’s the temperatures in the air, the thickness of the atmosphere, the decorations, the colors of the fields, the richness (or lack of) in the hues in the sky, and most of all the smells that cause us to get lost in reverie, depression, or excitement. Fall, in particular, is a bit drastic in these changes. While autumn slips in some flurries here and there just to get everyone mentally ready for the upcoming cold, winter moves to spring in a blustery and muddy but gradual way, and spring eases into summer with two-degrees forward/one-degree backwards type intervals, the fall of fall always seems to be more sudden. There is always a day each year when I walk out my back door and say, usually to no one in particular, “Well, fall is here.” I can’t recall ever having that same epiphany for other seasons.

While autumn has always been my favorite season, the changing from summer to fall has increased significance for me now as I remember that one of the biggest changes in my life happened in the late summer/early fall of 2008. That was when I moved away from the US. The 30^th of August recently came and went, and the magnitude of the date did not escape me—it was my two year anniversary of moving to Canada.

I had some chance to contemplate how much my life had changed in two years, and in what ways the changes were so much different than I could have imagined. The following weekend was cold, rainy, and blustery, and I remember mentioning to no one in particular, “Well, fall is here.” Our friends Tony and Rick came from Michigan to visit us for the holiday weekend. This was their third annual Labor Day weekend visit. Their first visit to Canada on Labor Day weekend was when I moved to Canada. They arrived in Cambridge on the Friday night and stayed with Sarah so that they were there and able to help us unload the U-Haul when I arrived from Michigan the next day. In the mean time I was sleeping in a nearly empty house in Michigan with a U-Haul parked in the driveway. I got up the next morning and finished loading the final few items. My friend and neighbor Beth came over to say a tearful goodbye and to give me a bunch of Canadian coins that my soccer teammates had collected as a going away present.

As I needed to bring not only the U-Haul to Canada, but also my car, my friends Clare and Jason came over to make the trip with me. We had a nice little three-vehicle convoy—I was driving the giant U-Haul truck. Clare drove my car, and Jason drove his car so that he and Clare would have a way to get back to Michigan.

I’ll never forget those few split seconds when I pulled out of the driveway for what I knew would be the last time. I was full of fear and sadness. Sarah had made the same journey just six weeks earlier, and she said that the further she got from Grand Rapids, the more the fear and sadness started to transition into excitement and anticipation. Like her, I was driving all alone with only my iPod and my “moving to Canada” playlist to keep me company. More on that in a future post.

The U-Haul could only go so fast, and we had to stop for gas and food now and then. When we reached Detroit, we had to stop to export my car. Most encounters with United States federal government employees are a real treat, and this was no different. It took about an hour to complete something that should have taken ten minutes. Finally the car was exported, and we headed over the Ambassador Bridge. We didn’t get too far as the line to get into Canada extended almost the length of the bridge. I will never forget thinking about how during that whole time on the bridge, my car was a car without a country—exported from the US but not yet imported into Canada. I was kind of the same.

The import proceedings at the Canadian border took an additional hour, but were a much more pleasant experience, as the customs officers were very chatty and helpful. Then we were on our way again, driving the horrendous two hours of highway 401 nothingness between Windsor and London. Once we hit London, I knew we were only an hour away from my new home, and as Sarah predicted, my fear and sadness has changed to excitement—here I was in a new country, MY new country.

A journey that would typically take under six hours ended up taking ten hours. Our little convoy arrived at the house in Cambridge where we were joyfully greeted by Sarah, Tony, Rick, and our dogs Cody and Brit. The reunion with Sarah and the dogs was emotional enough, and the realization that four of my friends made the incredible journey with us just to help us out and help ease our anxiety was overwhelming. It was already getting dark when we arrived, so we opted to wait until the morning to unload the truck. Besides, Sarah, Tony, and Rick had made a trip to the Beer Store and stocked the fridge with over 72 bottles of new and exciting Canadian beers.

I woke up the next morning and opened my eyes and thought, “Wow, I’m in Canada. I’m in a different country!” (This internal morning ritual was repeated every morning for almost the next five months.) The rest of the weekend was filled with shopping, drinking, and unpacking. On Labor Day, all of our friends headed back to Michigan, and so we were left all alone in a new country where we didn’t know anyone. I had negotiated to start my job the following week, so I had one week all to myself to explore my surroundings. Sarah was working, so during the day, I rode my bike and walked around town, took drives through the countryside, and sat on the deck taking it all in. Autumn came early in 2008, and by the first week of September, the feeling was already in the air. The day before I started my new job, I was hanging out on the deck with the dogs. The sky was cool gray, the wind encouraged a few red-tinged maple leaves to surrender to gravity, and I buttoned my overcoat with a shiver. I mumbled to no one in particular, “Well, fall is here.”

Hockey--For Weddings and a Funeral

I had only been in Canada about a year when I first had occasion to go to a funeral. Two of the first close friendships I made after moving here were with one of my hockey teammates and her husband. In many ways, they have been like surrogate parents to Sarah and me. They invite us to their family functions, go with us to watch football and hockey games, come over for dinner, etc. Unfortunately, my friend’s brother was very sick in the hospital and he ended up dying at a relatively young age. I found out about this untimely death a couple of days after it happened, and as I was at work when I found out, I did some online research to find out about the funeral and visitation.

Sure enough, as I looked online, I discovered that the visitation was that very morning. I was thankful that I was dressed in business attire (not casual) that day, and I got permission from my boss to leave work for an hour to go to the visitation.

I parked my car outside the funeral home and saw that there were many cars there and people going in and out. Yet, something didn’t seem right. I was too focused on my own social anxiety at going into a place full of people where I would likely only know three or four people, so I just looked at the ground as I made my way through the parking lot and in the door.

The funeral home employee in his formal business suit greeted me and directed me to the appropriate room. As I entered the room, I had the fleeting thought again that something wasn’t right, but this time, after only a split second, I figured it out. Everyone at the visitation was wearing a hockey jersey. I couldn’t have felt more out of place dressed in my suit.

Almost all of the hockey jerseys were Buffalo Sabres jerseys, so I visually sifted through the sea of people dressed in dark blue or white to try to find my friend. Finally I spotted her in a jersey that was about four sizes too big. I immediately hugged her and then also saw her husband, one of the few other people dressed in a suit. I spoke with them briefly and expressed my condolences. As I was speaking with them, I noticed that my friend’s husband had a Buffalo Sabres sticker on his lapel. Scanning the room, I saw that almost all of those not in a jersey at least had stickers on their clothes.

My friend explained to me that her brother was an avid Sabres fan, and that he would have been just thrilled to know that people came to his visitation and funeral in their Sabres jerseys.
There was no body in the room—only several photo boards. But, I am sure if the body would have been there, my friend’s brother would have been in a Buffalo hockey jersey.

Feeling out of place due to the way I was dressed and because I knew almost no one, I left and hurried back to work and reflected on what a surreal experience that had been. It seemed so bizarre to me that I wondered if there was even any point telling my friends back home about the hockey-themed funeral. I was planning to include this story on my next installment of my "favorite Canadian moments," but then I decided that it probably was an anomaly and would be unfairly stereotyping.

Then, this past weekend, I attended my first wedding in Canada. Well, I guess I can’t really say it was my "first" wedding in Canada, as Sarah and I were married in Windsor in 2006, but it was definitely my first wedding as an attendee since moving here.

Ironically, it was also the first time I had ever attended a same-sex wedding (again, other than my own two weddings with Sarah, where I was a participant). I didn’t know what to expect, and I was eager to experience a same-sex wedding as a mere observer.

Two of my friends who I know from work and from hockey were marrying each other. I was just so thrilled that they invited me, and Sarah and I were looking forward to the experience. We arrived at the wedding, which was outdoors, and immediately saw a small string quartet playing upbeat jazz. Sarah and I took our seats near the back and watched all the other guests arrive. I was bracing myself the entire time in case I overheard any negative comments about same-sex marriage, and I looked carefully for any body language that implied a participant was not quite comfortable with what was about to take place. I didn’t hear or see either.

Soon, there was a slight stir in the crowd and someone announced the pending entrance of the two participants. I was caught off guard when, expecting to hear a traditional wedding march or other wedding song, I instead heard another slightly jazzy and upbeat tune coming from the string quarted behind me. Everyone in the crowd began laughing, including Sarah. I saw my two friends enter the area together, smiling broadly. The tune was vaguely familiar, and I eventually determined it was from television, but I couldn’t quite place it. Everyone around me was still laughing, so I was embarrassed to ask because I didn’t know exactly why it was funny. Finally I whispered to Sarah, "What song IS this? It sounds familiar."

She looked at me a bit surprised and then responded, "It’s the theme song from Hockey Night in Canada."

Oh, yes, why hadn’t I realized that? After all, nothing says love and commitment like Hockey Night in Canada!

After this song finished, the ceremony turned much more formal and was, in fact, quite touching and beautiful. After all the vows were said, rings exchanged, kisses kissed, and papers signed (for my US readers--in Canadian weddings, all the paperwork is signed during the actual ceremony), the best man was called up to the front. As the wedding reception did not involve a formal dinner, the best man was called up front to make a speech. Sure enough, he was dressed in a new Dion Phaneuf Toronto Maple Leafs jersey over his suit and tie. (Both brides are passionate Maple Leafs fans.) He was an odd contrast to all of the other wedding party members who were in nice dresses or pantsuits.

Later in the evening during the reception, I was still pondering the significance of attending my first Canadian and same-sex wedding when both of the brides came over to chat. They wanted to show us something really neat, they said. One of the brides rolled up the leg of her pantsuit to reveal a garter. But this wasn’t just any garter. This was a Toronto Maple Leafs garter!
The brides wandered off and I looked at Sarah and said, "You know, there is NO OTHER PLACE IN THE WORLD where we would have experienced what we did today--a legal same-sex wedding with a hockey theme and attendees who are all truly happy for the brides and at the wedding because they genuinely care about the couple, not because it’s like a sideshow of deviant behavior."

It took me about two days to get the theme tune to Hockey Night in Canada out of my head! I also began to wonder what song was played at my friend’s brother’s actual funeral service, and I guessed that chances were good that it might have been from HNIC.

The World Cup through Canadian Eyes

Around this time four years ago, I was in Europe, which isn’t so remarkable in itself except that I was in Europe while the FIFA World Cup was taking place in Germany. Sarah and I were even fortunate enough to attend a first-round game in Germany—Germany vs. Poland. We got off the train in Dortmund a stop too early, and so we had to walk all the way across town to get to the stadium. I will never forget that walk through the downtown and the atmosphere all around. The German fans were partying through the streets, drinking, singing, and chanting. There were also some Poland fans about, getting pumped up for the game in their own way. We only witnessed some good-natured joking between the groups of fans. It was remarkable to see people so passionate about their countries mixing without much incident despite somewhat recent history of conflict between the two nations. The atmosphere in the stadium was so loud, and so energizing, and I was surprised to see Polish fans sitting amongst the German fans, and again, a lot of good-natured ribbing going on during the game which Germany eventually won.

I was also privileged enough to be in England during the 2002 World Cup, and I was in Italy just before the 1998 World Cup. If you can’t go to the actual games, the second best option is to travel to a country that is passionate about their team participating in the tournament. Even in 2002, I was at a packed out pub in England at 10 am buzzing from strong beer and watching on the big screen as the English team was playing their game in the Far East.

Unfortunately, at some point during each of these trips (which did not last the duration of the tournament), I had to head back to West Michigan where I lived at the time. Unless you’re in a really big city like New York or Los Angeles, the US is probably one of the worst places in the world to try to follow the world’s biggest sporting event. Even finding the games on TV can be difficult. While the games in the later stages of the tournament may make it to ESPN or other standard cable channels, for many of the first round games, I would have to make friends whose cable packages included Spanish-language channels.

When games were being played during my workday (due to time zone differences), I would find live score updates online and follow as closely as I could while working. I would see the score change and an upset in the making, and listen from my cubicle for gasps or comments from anyone else—certainly there had to be other people watching the scoreline. But, I never heard a sound that was soccer related, nor did I know of anyone in the vicinity who would care if I shared the news.

When games in the later stages were televised live on weekends, Sarah and I craved the fan atmosphere we had experienced in Europe. We wanted to find a sports bar where the game was being shown. We learned from several past disappointing experiences that we should call around first before just showing up somewhere. We’d start calling the biggest sports bars in Grand Rapids (a metropolitan area of about half a million people). We would ask if they were showing the soccer game. “What soccer game?” was often the reply. Eventually we’d work our way to calling the bars popular with the Italians or Mexicans, and we would make our way there. We’d try to round up as many of our friends as possible and try to get them excited. We’d all show up to half-empty sports bars with eight big screens, and they might have the World Cup game on one of those screens. Other screens would be showing golf, NASCAR, baseball highlights, or the NHL draft. If we were lucky, the sound feed would be from the soccer game—IF we were lucky.

Well, here I am in 2010, another World Cup year, but this time in Canada. I didn’t think that the World Cup experience in Canada would be any different from that in the US. Now less than a week away from the final, I know that there is no where in the world I’d rather be (other than the actual games at the stadiums) during this event.

I had my first clue that something was amiss back in mid-May when the car flags of various nations were everywhere on vehicles all around town. I soon deduced that the car flags coincidentally were the same as countries in the final 32 of the World Cup. At the mall, almost every store was selling soccer jerseys, country flags, scarves, or hats—even stores that don’t normally sell sporting goods. At the farmers’ market, stalls were set up selling similar types of soccer fan merchandise. On a main street corner in downtown Kitchener, a vendor had set up a tent in an empty parking lot and had flags, jerseys, banners, scarves, and balls of every team.

This year, I opted to cheer for the Ivory Coast, as one of my favorite players, Didier Drogba, is on that team. Obtaining an Ivorian car flag through any channel other than online shopping would normally be impossible. But, here in Canada, it was no problem.

About a week before the tournament started, there was no question as to where we could go to watch the games. All the bars and restaurants were advertising that they would be showing the games. As far back as January, CBC, the main television broadcaster in Canada, was advertising for the World Cup—they’d be showing every game.

At work, everyone talks about the World Cup all the time. Everyone knows what teams are playing, and everyone has a favorite. In the US, I would have had numerous tiresome debates by now with people who are certain that there is no value in watching soccer because it is so “boring” compared to other spectator sports. Not so in Canada—there is a genuine appreciation of the game, and a stark absence of any comparisons to football or hockey.

Part of the reason that Canada is such a great place to be during the World Cup is because of the diversity of the population. I could take the most obscure country in the tournament, probably Ivory Coast, and still find fans of this team who are have Ivorian heritage, right in downtown Toronto. Then when you consider some of the more dominant teams in the sport such as Germany or England, the supporters are everywhere. Canadians are generally accepting of individual displays of national pride, and since there are so many Canadians who are immigrants or first generation Canadians, these displays are varied and widespread. No one seems offended by anyone’s car flags or jerseys. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Canada is not in the World Cup itself, so no one feels any pressure or obligation to cheer for Canada. They are free to cheer for any country they choose, and usually these choices center around individuals’ heritages.

If I was in England right now, the fervor over the World Cup would be over because England is now out of the tournament. But here in Canada, when one country exits, the fans from the remaining countries become even more evident. My friends of Dutch heritage who don’t even like soccer are now following the tournament, and better yet, even wanting to talk about soccer with me! A few weeks ago, the Spanish team flags and jerseys were lost in the sea of Portuguese red and green. Now, I can see that there are fans of the Spanish team in my midst, as much as they are still outnumbered by the German fans in this heavily German area. And, once Ivory Coast was out and I switched my allegiance to Paraguay, no one cared or saw me as a traitor. The fan bases here are like rolling snowballs that increase in size as other teams are eliminated from the tournament.

Two weeks ago, Portugal and Brazil played each other in the first round. Several hours after the game, which ended in a 0-0 tie, I was driving through town and couldn’t believe how many Portuguese fans were on the streets shouting and waving large flags. The 0-0 tie was fairly unremarkable, but that was the game that had given Portugal enough points to go on to the second round. It was like being in Portugal without being in Portugal.

This Sunday, the Netherlands will be playing in the final game. This is a huge deal for the Dutch people, who have always fielded a strong team but never actually won the World Cup. The people in the Netherlands are going crazy. The whole country will most likely literally shut down for the day of the game, and probably the day before. The Dutch or Dutch descendents I know here in Kitchener-Waterloo are beside themselves with excitement.

Back in West Michigan, where Dutch and Dutch descendents are the largest ethnic group in many counties, there’s only a limited amount of attention being paid to the upcoming game. I would imagine that if Sarah and I were still living there, despite the Dutch influence in Grand Rapids, and despite the significance of this game, we would still be working hard to convince our friends to go out and watch the game with us, and we may or may not get any takers. Then again, we would likely have trouble even finding a bar willing to show the game!

More Random Thoughts on the US Immigration Policies

The immigration debate has really been heating up in the US lately, with Arizona passing all kinds of creative legislation, and the controversy even penetrating the inner sanctum of the Miss USA pageant. I'm quite happy to be observing all of this from north of the border, no longer living a life subject to the prejudiced and uninformed opinions and whims of straight, white male US congressmen and senators.

If you don't know or if you've never read the inscription on the Statue of Liberty, check it out and see if you can understand why I'm beginning to think that the US should give up the statue and perhaps give it to some other country (such as Canada).

Here is a poem that sums up my feelings:


Two Banners

Look through the stars to see the bars,
Horizon-spanning grate of red,
Exclusion in a welcome’s stead.
Send not the homeless tempest-tossed--
Her lamp is doused, her seekers find,
With blood from knuckles, knock, knock, knocked--
Exalted golden door now locked.

The maple leaf extends his arms,
Inviting those who dare to dream—
To challenge for such lives redeemed.
Arrivals, shapes and hues motley,
Slot in mosaic spaces held.
For this the leaf only demands
On guard for all of us we stand.

--MJB 04/2010

Happy Anniversary, Eh?

On April 29, 2010, Sarah and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. On that same day ten years before, we were married in a ceremony that was part of the Millennium March in Washington, D.C. We exchanged vows and rings on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Our friends Todd and Chris were there, as were a few hundred others. Even though this wedding had no legal standing anywhere in the world, it was a marriage to us.

Ten years is a long time, and when I think back through those ten years, I realize what an achievement it has been for us. The time seems to have flown by so quickly, but that may have a lot to do with the segmentation of our lives as we went from visa to visa. For our first nine years living together, we could only plan as far ahead as the expiration date of the current visa. Some visas were for 18 months. Some were for three years. Some were renewable, others weren't. Not being able to plan ahead for more than three years ever at one time meant we were in a constant temporary state. We had an excuse not to buy new furniture--we might have to move to England. We had an excuse not to go back to school--that schooling might be interrupted and we might not be able to complete it. Sarah had an excuse not to look for a new and better job--she couldn't as her visa was tied to her job. I had an excuse not to look for a new job--why do that when we might have to move out of the country? There are so many things we really wanted to do but didn't because we were aware of the imminent threat of having to move out of the US. If Sarah was fired from her job, quit her job, or if her visa expired, she would have ten days to leave the US.

Now that we are in Canada, I still don't think I'm used to being able to plan far into the future. I spent so long in visa purgatory that sometimes the reality of my current situation seems just a nice dream.

When we were living visa to visa, the amount of stress on each of us was, at times, unbearable, and the rest of the time, crushing. When Sarah would apply for a visa and we would wait and wait and wait for word on it, there was this horrible feeling in our stomachs when we wondered what would happen if the visa was denied? One time, her visa application was denied (due to shoddy legal work)--I can't even begin to explain the heartache we both felt when we were informed of the denial. We had no idea what we would do, where we would go, how we would stay together, and we had no money--at the time of the denial, Sarah had been working at her US company without pay because she didn't have a visa and it would have been illegal for her company to pay her. But how else was she supposed to keep her job with the company? If she didn't do the work, they would have hired someone else. And any money we did have from my income went to paying for what turned out to be inept legal services. We had absolutely nothing but each other and our dog, and we didn't even know how the three of us could stay together. We both cried and cried for days.

Eventually after nine months back in England and a new application, she did get a three-year visa, but this only prolonged the misery of living visa to visa, and really only postponed the inevitable--a move out of the US.

It seems that whole periods of my life were consumed with stress about visas. I wonder how many of the rough times in our relationship were due at least partly to this constant stress. When the final application for a visa was abandoned, as much as I was dreading the work involved in moving and the unknowns of living in Canada, I felt a certain sense of relief that I was soon going to be living a life of permanence; we would be able to plan for our future in more than three-year increments.

Our relationship has survived so many obstacles--the stigma of being a same-sex couple, the financial hardships, Sarah's homesickness, lack of legal protections available to us as a couple, and in the end, the move to Canada. In our ten years of marriage, I think we've endured more strain than most couples endure in twenty years, and likely more strain than most relationships could handle.

The day after our anniversary, I was on the phone with my mother who is back in Michigan. I explained that we had just celebrated our ten year. Her response was, "Oh, I didn't realize. You will have to remind me again of your anniversary date. I never remember." I do tell her at least every year and any time she asks.

That night, we headed to a soccer teammate's house for an end-of-season barbeque. Our teammates and their husbands and kids were there. We were all having a wonderful time. Suddenly, the hostess brought out a large sheet cake. I got a bit choked up when I saw the writing on it--"Happy Ten Year Anniversary Mary and Sarah." I certainly didn't expect that. I thought about how something like this would have never happened in West Michigan, and therefore was able to identify two clear examples of just how our lives had changed for the better. Not only did we have a whole group of (straight) people recognizing our anniversary with no one experiencing any apparent discomfort, but a bakery in the area had actually agreed to write such a message on a cake!

Venting Some Frustration. . . .

Browsing the Internet today, I stumbled upon the following article from the New York Times:

Suspect Was Citizen for Just a Year
May 4, 2010

The Pakistan-born man arrested in the failed Times Square car bombing had lived legally in the United States for most of the last 11 years and was naturalized as an American citizen in Bridgeport, Conn., last April, officials said on Tuesday.

Okay, how nice. So I read on a bit further and learned that

In January 2002, the authorities said, Mr. Shahzad got an H1-B visa for skilled workers. Mr. Shahzad married an American citizen named Huma Mian, and was granted a green card in January 2006. He was naturalized in a ceremony in Bridgeport on April 17 of last year . . .

Once again, I feel like I'm on Candid Camera and at any moment someone is going to appear to tell me that the last couple of years of my life have all been part of an elaborate joke.

But, on so many levels, it's not funny at all. I'm debating whether this whole situation with the traitorous Pakistani makes more of a mockery of the immigration rules in the United States or of the sanctity of marriage.

Hmmm, I think I'll go the immigration route. Let me re-write the above information with details from my own life.

My partner Sarah lived legally in the United States for nine years beginning in 1999. In August 2002, Sarah got an H1-B visa for skilled workers. Sarah was not allowed to marry me, and in fact, our then home state of Michigan passed a law in 2004 banning any recognition of same-sex partnerships ("To secure and preserve the benefits of marriage for our society and for future generations of children, the union of one man and one woman in marriage shall be the only agreement recognized as a marriage or similar union for any purpose.--Michigan Constitution, Article I, Section 25, approved by the electorate on November 2, 2004). Sarah was not able to get her green card as my partner nor through her employer. Her expert legal advice from her company's immigration lawyer was to "find a guy to marry." In 2008, we left the United States and moved to Canada.

I guess I would be remiss if I didn't add one small detail to this story--neither of us have ever had any ties to any terrorist groups nor have we ever plotted to harm anyone.

In summary, the citizen-elected governments of the United States throughout the past eight years preferred to naturalize heterosexually married terrorists over law-abiding and non-threatening homosexuals.