By Michael Downing
Raised Canadian
For the record, I am not a Canadian citizen. I was born in Erie, Pennsylvania, which is along the south shore of Lake Erie, making me a citizen of the United States.
However, I began to learn something about myself when I moved north of Philly 2007: I have a lot of Canada in me. Never thought about it much, really, but I came to understand the Canadian aspects of myself when I started interacting with millions of East Coasters on a regular basis (and when one of my students pointed it out way back in 2008).
Photo I took in Oakville after dining at the local Sunset Grill in 2024.
Please note that my comparisons here are not intended to be judgmental; I’ve met many wonderful people from Philly and New Jersey and New York City. It’s just that–in order for me to fit in–I had to learn some new skills like: 1) how to talk much more rapidly than I was used to and 2) how to pull into traffic whether there is an opening or not.
Just for fun, I did a quick search of positive Canadian characteristics and found: being polite, friendly, and respectful. Being community oriented. Being modest. Taking turns in conversation. Being easy-going in nature. Being honest and trustworthy and having a strong work ethic.
I would add to this the notion–in tribute to Tony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown: Quebec episode–of being a good dinner partner. This means preparing stories and potential activities beforehand–whether I am host or guest. If I am host, I put my guests in the spotlight. I prompt them talk about their lives and jobs and exploits. Perhaps I even do a bit of research beforehand if I don’t know one or more of the guests well.
I did this with Doug, a good friend of mine. Doug is from Iowa and one evening, I was to meet him, along with mutual friend, Andy, at a local tavern. I knew Doug was from Iowa, but little else, so I did a bunch of reading about Iowa and even printed a few Wikipedia pages about Iowa City and Des Moines, which I stuck in my back pocket. I got him to gladly talk about Iowa all evening. The evening was a success and Doug and I are now very close.
Do you see my Canadian credentials rising to the surface?
In contrast, East Coasters are more brash. They don’t greet one another walking down the street (I think it’s due to the population density), and many of them openly accept the idea that people lie (which is true). They tend to be aggressive in conversation and in traffic, and are not easy-going, at least as far as I’ve seen. “There is no chill on the East Coast,” is a statement I stand by. Relaxation for East Coasters involves lots of plans, activities, dogs, families, cars, smoke, and volume. And don’t expect East Coasters to gently prompt their guests to talk about themselves at dinner. Instead, East Coasters will talk nonstop until you force yourself into the conversation. In my world, interrupting someone while they are talking is considered rude, but on the East Coast, you had better learn to shove your way into the conversation–literally learn to talk over people–if you want to be heard. That was a new skill I had to learn.
And, again, don’t get me wrong, East Coasters are exceedingly kind and generous. They will give you the shirt of their back. They will honor their contracts and speak plainly. My students are mostly all East Coasters and they are kind and thoughtful and I appreciate them, along with the opportunity to help them achieve their career goals.
I’m talking here about MY reactions and what I’ve had to learn about myself having moved from Erie (which is more like southern Canada…more Great Lakes, for sure) to the US East Coast, which is big city, big traffic, and a whole lot of talk about going DOWN THE SHORE.
I’ve had to learn to become more resilient, because people are going to cut you off in traffic, give you the finger, and lean on the horn, even if you actually did nothing wrong. You can’t take it personally; it’s probably just someone having a bad day. Recently, I encountered a guy on a two-lane highway who was at war with every car he got behind. It was really something to watch. It’s like he got out of bed that morning and said, “Honey, I’m off to antagonize every car from Allenton to Reading on a road where you can’t pass.” When it was my turn, I just pulled over and let him go, just to watch him latch onto the bumper of the next car.
You don’t see a lot of that where I come from. People are pretty relaxed on the roads in NWPA. The following distance in Western Pennsylvania is typically generous (although there are excetions). Following distance in SEPA is directly on your back bumper.
Speaking of driving, about ten years ago, I watched a young man in a convertible driving south on I-81 who was CLEARLY on some kind of powerful drug. He was going 30 mph in a 55 mph zone and his face was entirely expressionless. He was toast. I called 911 and let them know about the impaired driver.
We were also driving along one day when we saw a young man blow through a stop sign. I saw he was distracted and I gave him the right-of-way. Good thing I did because he didn’t even slow down. As he rolled through the intersection, we saw a young woman’s head pop up from between his legs and look around. No wonder he didn’t stop. He didn’t have much control over his lower body.
These escapades were all new to us, being southern Lake Erie Canadians. And don’t get me wrong, I know bizarre things happen all over the place. It’s just that the likelihood goes WAY UP when you hit these East Coast population areas. I can say this because I don’t see such things when I go home to NWPA.
But let’s get back to my training in all things Canadian. My house growing up in Erie was two blocks from Lake Erie. As the crow flies, we were about 35 miles from Long Point, 60 miles from Tillsonburg, and 80 miles from London, as the crow flies. So when I was young, my older brother climbed up on the roof and installed a rotating television antenna. Due to the lack of obstructions on Lake Erie, tt worked great. We could not only dial-in the local Erie broadcast TV stations more precisely: WSEE, WJET, WICU and WQLN, we could get Canadian TV as well: CBC, mostly, but CFPL, which carried local London programming.
So I grew up watching Canadian television. The Friendly Giant, various British dramas, nature shows such as The Nature of Things, British comedy, including Monty Python’s Flying Circus. All part of my formative years. I remember the CBC logo and various shows in black and white.
Memory Road: I watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail on Canadian TV when I was 10 years old and it blew my mind. I remember it late at night; everyone was in bed. I watched on a small, lack-and-white TV, keeping my thumb on the volume so I wouldn’t get busted. I can clearly remember understanding some of the jokes and having no idea about the others…but I did learn lessons about the comparative carrying capacity of swallows, the French art of taunting, and that the Black Knight always triumphs.
I could also get Canadian radio stations on just about any decent unit when I was a kid. I recall CFHK-FM St. Thomas (The Hawk), which played pop rock, and there was a talk radio show as well, CBCL-FM (93.5), but the one I remember most was CFPL-FM 96 (Canadian Free Press London) that played alternative rock. The English Beat (“Mirror in the Bathroom” was huge), The Cure, The Pixies, R.E.M., Talking Heads, Violent Femmes, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and The Eurhythmics. I’m sure I’m leaving some out but they weren’t playing these artists on Erie radio, so I was thankful for London, ON. I just read that CFPL boasts transmission power of 300,000 watts, so that explains its reach across Lake Erie.
Beyond television and radio, I also came of age with a range of Canadian imports. They would come across the Peace Bridge in Buffalo, aimed, at least in part, at the Erie market. So I know all about Carling’s Black Label, Labatt’s Blue, Molson Canadian, and Moosehead. I’ve seen Rush, The Tragically Hip, April Wine, Triumph, Barenaked Ladies, Our Lady Peace, Mahogany Rush (Frank Marino!), Neil Young, and Alanis Morrisette. Also a big fan of The Guess Who, Bachman Turner Overdrive, Alvvays, Blue Rodeo, and Arcade Fire. I also like Nickelback and think they get a raw deal. Nickelback on the treadmill is as good as it gets.
Heck, I worked at Loblaw’s for several years when I was in college. Am I burnishing my Canadian credentials yet?
Hockey
Alas, this post is not about beer or music or black-and-white programming, it’s about sports, and when it comes to great Canadian sport of hockey, I’ve been a life-long Montreal Canadians fan.
I was nine-years-old 1971 and was learning to play street hockey in the snow. We didn’t have skates or regulation nets but we had sticks, a puck, and plenty of snow. So we would set up boxes near the curbs and then run and “skate” (meaning slide in our boots) to make plays. We loved it.
Once I was safe inside, though, I would watch the legendary Montreal Canadiens take the ice. I knew every player on the team and I followed them through their run to The Stanley Cup. It was the greatest thing I’d even seen. Jean Beliveau, Yvan Cournoyer, Ken Dryden, Jacques Laperriere, Guy Lapointe, Jacques Lemaire, Frank and Peter Mahovlich, Henri Richard, Serge Savard, and Rogie Vachon. They lost the first two games to the Black Hawks, then won the next two in Montreal. Chicago went up, 3-2 before the Habs rallied to win the final two games. I was ecstatic.
Football and baseball were big in the US when I was a kid (still are). So it felt like I was looking into a magic portal, watching this beautiful Canadian sport called hockey that none of my friends cared about (I take that back, I had one friend who was a hockey fan. Rich Groucutt loved the Islanders and we used to nudge one another during hockey season).
But nobody else cared about hockey. So for me to have a window into the world of Canadian hockey–as seen through the eyes of Canadians on the CBC–how lucky I was. I can remember the Canadian fans going berserk at home games in Montreal. They were all in. I had never seen anything like it and have been a fan ever since. I have an old, beat-up Habs hat that I got in Montreal years ago which I still treasure.
Later in my life, I moved away from the Erie lakeshore, south to Pittsburgh and became a Penguins fan (how can you not love Mario Lemieux?) but I still follow the Montreal Canadians.
So there we were at The Hockey Hall of Fame, which has lots of sticks, pucks, uniforms, and other memorabilia…even a zamboni! Some of the old-time equipment is pretty spare, along with some of the goalkeeper masks. We saw tributes to Guy Lafleur, Jaromir Yagr, Gordie Howe, Bobby Orr, and of course, Wayne Gretzky. Click here for a complete list of members. It was all pretty interesting.
The highlight for me was the recreation of the Montreal Canadian locker room, full-size with jerseys. It was so cool. It made me think about how so many of those guys were not large humans and how they made hockey about the beauty of skating and man were they good at that. Things changed, then, when NHL teams started recruiting goons to steamroll and claw at the skaters. Mario Lemieux–who was born in Montreal–used to call the NHL a “garage league,” because they allowed the goons to slam and start fights with the talented players.
So overall the Hockey Hall of Fame was great. It is especially good for kids because there’s a lot of interactive stuff. I recommend that if you have an hour or so and you’re close to Union Station, go over to the Hockey HoF and do the Canada thing.
On our way out, I tried to buy a second Canadians hat to replace my old worn out one but they only had women’s and children’s hats, so I bought a Maple Leafs hat, instead, to honor my time in Toronto.
My Writing Wanderland 