Our Canadian Cousins

I like Canadians. I don’t mean the Montreal Canadiens, although I have nothing against them. I mean the people who live in Canada. The nice folks with the funny accents that seem to visit Florida on a regular basis. I am not being sarcastic or insincere. I just realized that I had never met a person with a Canadian visa who I didn’t enjoy talking to or hanging out with.

This past week I attended a FEMA course on critical incident command. I was not necessarily looking forward to an academic class after a long and fun vacation. The class was to help me do my job when the next hurricane ripped through Florida. To my surprise and relief the class was taught by an interesting, retired Royal Canadian Mounted policeman with a real sense of humor. He turned what could have been coma inducing subject matter into a useful tool that may help the next time I’m called up for a disaster.

I started thinking about my other experiences with citizens of our neighbor to the north and realized the country turns out some really cool people.

I once worked a case that required me to travel to Toronto. The Toronto cops never let me feel alone. They took me out every night and I learned an important lesson: Canadian beer has more alcohol in it than American beer.

One of the best crime fiction websites, Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind, is operated by the lovely Sarah Weinman. A woman who has a greater knowledge of crime literature than any five writers. She can hold her beer too.

I just met writer Jeff Buick who reinforced the notion of a good natured, funny Canadian without having to change his basic personality.

These are simple basic examples but it’s one of the stereotypes I believe in. This and the one about women finding heavyset middle-aged men irresistible. Well, maybe that’s more of a fantasy than a stereotype

I’ll stand by my original statement: I like Canadians.