So here's the difference for me between Canada and the United States.

In the United States, I am one of several hundred million people.   Just one of the common masses, you might say.  The chances of my meeting the President or being invited to the White House any time soon?  Nil.  I knew someone once who was invited to the White House (by George W. Bush, no less), but he and I aren't even friends anymore.  (Me and the guy who got invited to the White House, I mean, not George W., who I never really was friends with, to say the least.)

But in Canada, you see, I am part of the elite, a member of the socially privileged class, practically an aristocrat.  Case in point--my connection to the incoming Governor-General, the prolific author and widely-respected legal scholar, David Johnston.


I love books so much, sometimes I just hang out in the stacks at the library.  Cheerioh!

Professor Johnston taught law at McGill University a number of years ago when I was a student there.  I remember one occasion in particular when I met with him in his office because I was applying to another university where he had studied years before.  He was jovial, inquisitive, and very down to earth.  We talked about his experience at that other university I was applying to and how it prepared him for what he was now doing at McGill; we also chatted about what it was like hosting The Editors, a weekly show about current U.S.-Canadian events that he hosted and which aired on PBS back in the day.
 
(Incidentally, another participant from that show who went on to a fair amount of fame himself--although not necessarily for the right reasons--was former Vermont Governor Howard Dean, whom I remember most for his clarity of thought and level-headedness as a contributor to The Editors.  So ironic.)


Aaaaarrrggghh!

Now, don't get me wrong, I am not suggesting that his Excellency, David Johnston, will be inviting me to Rideau Hall (the luxurious mansion where the Governor General and his spouse will reside) next week or even the week after; I mean, first of all, he doesn't actually take office until October 1 of this year, so he can't invite me at least until then; plus he doesn't have my current mailing address. 

All I'm saying is, I'm a lot closer to the pinnacle of society here in Canada then I ever will be in the U.S. because, at the end of the day, Canada is about one tenth the size of its giant neighbor to the south, so it's easier to know more people here in Canada and, as a result, reaching the "top" here is just a much easier climb.

Next stop--Buckingham Palace.


Croquet, anyone?

I have been in Toronto, Canada for the past three weeks, and tonight was the culmination of this city's "Pride" festival, which celebrates Toronto's LGBT community.  This year's celebration was actually the city's 30th.

And what a celebration it was.  I can't tell you how many times I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming--it was almost too much happiness to handle!  I have never seen anything like it anywhere before--an all-out party, but infused with total warmth and peace. No fights, no drama; just people having fun and being themselves. Even the buses were decked out with Pride messages:


Did you know certain buses are just born gay?

The parade, which went on for hours and basically took over Yonge Street (Toronto's equivalent of Broadway), featured your perennial muscle boys:


Hey you!  Why don't you come over here and open up my Guaranteed Investment Certificate?  It pays 9 1/2 %!

But there was also a military presence in the parade.  I personally saw a gay marching band from a Canadian military base, and I heard about a contingent of actual gay soldiers marching too:


We're looking for a few good men.  (Preferably with their shirts off.)

Even some of the dogs got in on the action:


I like it "ruff."


Does this boa make me look fat?

All in all, it was yet another reminder that this country of my birth, which I have been away from for almost 9 years, is CRAZY progressive.  It almost makes me wonder why I ever left in the first place.  (Oh yeah, 'cause I was a conservative closet-case back then.)

So in closing, here is the acronym I came up with for PRIDE:

P is for the parade, which blew every other parade I have ever seen clear out of the water;

R is for the ripped bodies grinding on the dance floors all weekend long;

I is the for the insanity that was the corner of Church and Wellesley Streets (the epicenter of Toronto Gaydom);

D is for the drag queens who kept the crowds entertained for hours on end;

and finally

E is for the excitement I felt to be a part of this grand celebration of inclusion, self-expression, and love.

Happy Pride everyone!