I used to live next to a family of Canadians. One day, a day when the Avs were playing the Blues, a hot day in May...it was the Western Conference Finals...and I stepped outside between periods. It was May 12th, 2001 and according to weather records it was about 80 degrees. Yep, that’s how I remember it. My eyes rebelled against the bright sun, after all I’d just spent a couple hours locked in my cave-like living room, all outside light blocked so I could see every detail of the game on my 27” standard definition tube television set. We've come a long way baby.
And there was my Canadian neighbor smoking a cigarette on her porch. “How are the Avs doing, eh?” She asked, clearly aware of the game yet seemingly indifferent, just making conversation. And yes, she really did say “eh?” always, and with every sentence. But none of the rest of the family did.
I stared in astonishment at my Canadian neighbor and asked, “Aren’t you watching?” Resisting the urge to say “eh?”
“No, we like baseball.”
They were from Quebec. Bitterness? She didn’t seem bitter. I became nervous about the silence as I tried to reconcile “eh?” with a love of baseball.
Thankfully she proceeded by asking how Roy was doing.
“Um, fine.” I said, not really thinking about it.
I couldn’t get back inside fast enough.
Thinking back I realize they never even introduced me to poutine. That right there ought to be a crime!! Maybe they liked wings better??
In the end I decided that they had been exiled…for obvious reasons, eh?