To America, with love, from a Canadian

Like most Canadians I grew up in close proximity to the U.S. border and live just a short drive away from it still, in Vancouver BC. When I was young my mom used to take my sister and I across the border into Washington to visit her cousin Lori who lived on a small farm just outside the town of Twisp, and her aunt Kay. Visits to aunt Kay’s were pretty tame, tea and cookies, but the visits to aunt Lori’s in Twisp I still have scars from, the good kind, more or less.

Lori’s husband Gary was a Vietnam vet and when we were over visiting I would inevitably find myself and their sons pulling his old service fatigues and various army gear out of a box in which it was still stored, just next to the house. I can vividly remember how musty those vests and jackets smelled drooping around me, several sizes too big. We would play army near the creek and in the nearby crops, crawling on our bellies and quietly taking position between the long deep green rows of stalks and leaves. We of course got a stern lecturing to after Lori found out where we had been.

I learned how to ride a motorcycle on that farm, the hard way, as I crashed into a fence thinking I was breaking when I was pulling the gear shift. Those boys knew how to play hard and weren’t afraid to get rough. One of them went on to be a professional bull rider, the other two enlisted in the army.

I went on to work in public health.

I’ve been trying to place the feelings I’ve been experiencing watching what’s happening in America, as someone whose life has been personally shaped not just by proximity to (or inundation of) American culture and media, but by experiences in America that helped shape the person I’ve become today.

Even though I’m Canadian it feels personal. I’m grieving. I’m angry. I’m in disbelief. I’m feeling many things, just as I’m sure you are too. As a Canadian I’m even filled with confusion about whether I have the right to feel these things about another country, but America for all its differences has always felt like a second home to me. Especially the two Cascadian States of Washington and Oregon which are especially similar to British Columbia, where I grew up and still live today.

A little over a decade after crashing that motorbike into the fence in rural Washington I found myself touring across the U.S. in different bands, playing legendary venues from Radio City Music Hall in New York, to Linda’s Doll Hut in L.A. but before that I got to play dive bars, DIY all-ages venues, college pubs and other hole in the wall joints from coast to coast. I was in awe of America. Its diversity, its physical beauty, its stately cities and charming towns. It lit a spark in me.

I was a high school dropout who moved to Vancouver to pursue a career in music and acting, but somewhat ironically it was touring across the U.S. that inspired me to return to school and study human geography. I went on to graduate from university with Distinction, and completed a master’s in urban studies after that, all because of my experiences in America which had made me passionate about learning more about people and places. In addition to the work I do today in public health I also teach Geography part-time now at a college in Vancouver. It’s a deeply rewarding job that I do more for the passion than the pay. I feel privileged to be in such a position.

None of this would have happened if not for transformative experiences traveling across America as a young touring musician. I am who I am today because of it all, and I am deeply grateful for this. Which is why watching America’s descent into chaos over the past couple of years, and 2020 in particular, as it becomes the worst hit country in the world by the Coronavirus pandemic, has been like watching a friend self-destruct before your eyes in some kind of violent self-loathing supernova — to which you feel powerless to intervene. As a friend you feel both unequipped to help and sometimes even like your help isn’t wanted as you are pushed away.

America and Americans may rightfully be dismissive of outsiders commenting on what they’re going through right now, but I’m sure millions of people around the world have had deep and transformative experiences spending time in the U.S. which went on to help shape them into the people they are today, much like me. So, I wanted to write this short letter, as a friend, one of millions in this world who are rooting for you as a country America.

Few things demonstrate the interconnectedness of the world like a pandemic. The longer the United States suffers through skyrocketing rates of Coronavirus infection the longer the entire world is at risk along with it and the longer the economic devastation will take to recover from.

Though there is much being written about how America may be a failed social experiment, if not acting like a Failed State altogether, I hope for you, friend, that at some point this turns from being a moment of deep division, chaos and animosity to one of coming together, clarity and purpose. While coronavirus has only been with the country six months, racism has plagued it for centuries and gun violence for decades.

For those friends who I’ve witnessed coming apart at the seams with self-destructive behaviour, some didn’t make it, some were surprisingly resilient and put up with their self-abuse for years, and others eventually found themselves in that moment where they genuinely wanted to heal. They learned how to love themselves again. Those who did were able to transform into a better version of themselves which was previously inconceivable and go on to prove themselves capable of things that surprised themselves, friends and their families. This is my hope for America.

You could argue that a country is more complex than a person, but countries are a reflection of the complexities of their people, and America has become a very, very complex place in the past century. Turning the corner isn’t something that’s going to happen overnight. Electing Joe Biden or someone else isn’t going to be like flicking a switch, and all this will just go away. I’m confident the world is going to be collectively traumatized for many years to come in the face of this pandemic and its wake. America may end up being the country traumatized most of all.

Which is why it’s important to know that you still have friends, in Canada, and all over world, who will be here through this, who are here now, and will need you to be a part of our collective overcoming of this trauma just as we need you now to be a part of the collective global response. We are here and will continue to be here despite the recent actions of your president, who recoils the country from its allies and shuns international cooperation to fight the pandemic, because we know he doesn’t represent what lies in the hearts of most Americans. He is sick, and he has made America sick in return.

Get well soon.