Why I Celebrate Canada on the 4th of July
Reflections on privilege, grief, and why I’m grateful to live in Canada this Independence Day
July 4th has always been one of my favorite holidays. It was the one my family hosted, all Cain cousins together, celebrating my father’s and grandmother’s birthdays too. Cookouts, watermelon, homemade ice cream. We’d watch the Fort Worth fireworks from our deck, gingerly holding sparklers and running up and down the hills of our lot. There’s so much love and nostalgia tied up in those memories. And now, also, loss.
I’ve always considered myself a lucky girl.
Maybe that’s a strange thing to think, as a 50 year old widow, but I have been lucky throughout my life. And I’m grateful. While I do find things to fret over, I have never been without food, shelter, and love. I’ve always had what matters most.
That is privilege. So are these:
I was born in the freest and strongest nation in the world—as we believed—midway through the Cold War.
I have a wonderful family.
I received a remarkable education, both musical and scholarly.
I have had opportunities to travel and experience the world.
I have had more freedom and possibilities in my life than any generation of women has experienced.
I accepted a job at a great university and immigrated to Canada July 1, 2003—twenty-two years ago last Tuesday, on Canada Day.
A couple of weeks later, I met my husband. Together, we built a life. A family.
A Canadian family.
And for that, I am deeply grateful.
Because here in Canada:
Public education is widely accessible and high quality.
Gun violence in schools is rare, thanks to sensible laws and support systems.
Diversity is protected. Religion stays out of classrooms.
A social safety net exists for when life suddenly changes.
Medical care is a right, not a privilege.
Canada has its flaws—every country does. We have our share of political cranks and conspiracy theorists. But they are not running the country.
When I look south to home now, I see a nation I no longer recognize.
America—my birthplace—is hurtling toward something unrecognizable. Oligarchy. Autocracy. A place where cruelty is policy, and facts are treated like threats.
People who’ve broken no laws, following all the rules—many of them rules the US helped write into international law—are abducted off the street, disappeared into private detention centers.
Research funding slashed on a whim.
Cultural and historical institutions co-opted and rewritten by an unqualified, egomaniacal executive.
One trillion dollars in cuts to Medicaid—healthcare stripped from the most vulnerable.
A Supreme Court and Congress bowing to unchecked power.
And still, somehow: we voted this in.
[Not me. Probably not you. But undeniably, we.]
It’s hard to explain to my American friends how the rest of the world sees them now.
Canadians—my neighbors, my community, my chosen countrymen—are angry. Not because we hate America or Americans, but because we feel betrayed by a nation we believed was a partner in progress.
“Surely, you don’t take him seriously?” my American friends ask.
We all take him seriously. He’s the President of the United States.
Maybe if you had, we wouldn’t be here.
My son’s graduating class had twelve students accepted to top US universities. Only one, a dual citizen, has chosen to go. The rest are staying. Staying in Canada where the future feels more stable. More hopeful. More free.
America turns 249 today.
And while I celebrate the memories of what it gave me, I mourn what it’s become.
We often talk about how things fall apart.
Gradually, then suddenly, according to Hemingway.
This isn’t the end of the story. It’s just that we don’t know where the story is going, not for sure, or if it’s possible to change the ending. To reclaim our country from all this destruction and wanton cruelty. To make it, once again, the essential nation.
America is further on this path than you think. The rest of the world sees that.
I know that many of you are working everyday, desperately hard, to change things.
And I do believe that change is possible. That there are many outcomes still available. Some may even be positive.
We can still shape something new from the pieces—if we have the courage to look clearly, speak honestly, and act together. That’s what democracy requires.
That’s what love of country really means.
Happy Independence Day.
This week in the garden
Looking at what’s going on south of the border, I’m very grateful that my parents chose Canada too stay. Though one thing about religion in schools: the Catholic system still exists in some provinces, but Catholics are sane and religion stays in our religion classes (plus monthly mass…at least we went to mass across the street at my school back in the 80s) and not involved in, say, English. We did say prayers after O Canada each morning in elementary school.
Happy 4th of July to you (and belated Canada Day!) from this Canadian in Vancouver 🇨🇦. My husband and I love the US (or did...now we're wary and uncomfortable. Oregon (the coast) is like our 2nd home. We'll be going down next month for vacation but more wary than in the past thanks to the current president and all the craziness!! (Understatement of the decade)