The US was born of a revolution; Canada was born of a conference. It shows.
Just before Yom Kippur, I had the unpleasant experience of explaining to my six-year-old why someone would write “no Jews” on the parking lot of the synagogue he prays at nearly every day.
Regardless of where you stand on the question of global warming, it is clear that the Jewish people know a thing or two about hope, even hope against all odds.
I have learned from the muddled days of my youth. I am no longer trying to find myself. This is as good as it gets.
Here in the US, by necessity, I usually tell people I’m from “near Toronto.” But oh, how it pains me. “Near Toronto” is a suburban, amorphous blob. I’m from Hamilton, a city with its own personality, coliseum, and mountain.
