Joy of Celebration

In 1983, I moved across the border from Canada to the US. It was a 3.5-hour drive – nothing in terms of space and time. I was young and the idea of culture shock didn’t even enter my mind. What could be so different? A lot apparently.  (Warning – this blog contains some very generalized statements about Canadians and Americans).  

When I first arrived,  I lived in a suburb of Buffalo with my mum and dad. A typical grid development with trees for street names. The houses were all different but the designs were repeated haphazardly. Sometimes I would pull into the wrong driveway at night because of the uniformity. The lots were all about the same size and one lot would back into another. So, you actually had three next-door neighbors (one on each side and one behind). This was a big change for me coming from a rural environment where I couldn’t even see my next-door neighbors – in fact, we didn’t even call them ‘next door’. Rather, it was the "farm at the next concession." 

I moved in the summer. The first thing I noticed in the neighborhood was that most of the homeowners turned their garages into sitting areas. The garage doors were left open and a mesh screen was dropped in its place. Cars were parked in the driveway - leaving room in the garage for tables, lawn chairs, ping-pong tables, a refrigerator, and sometime a TV.  Everyone had the same sort of set up. Most were decorated with Buffalo Bills or Buffalo Sabres paraphernalia. I know all this because every garage opening faced the street and I could view everything from the sidewalk.  In the summer, their family life was actually on display.

The garage I left behind in Canada ( more accurately described as a Quonset hut) contained tractors, pieces of equipment in various states of disrepair, a baler, twine, implements, pitchforks axes, a 100 gallon gas tank… oh and cars.

Because the lives of the families in my neighborhood were on display, I began to notice that there was a lot of celebrating going on. The first time I saw a kindergarten graduation party, I thought it was a joke. But, then I soon realized that every milestone was being celebrated: birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, home games, homecomings, retirement, new jobs, college acceptance, etc. Houses were festooned with ribbons, wreaths, balloons and a banner announcing the party theme.

Generality #1 – Americans are more gregarious than Canadians are. Up until that point, I had never seen a Canadian family on display in this fashion. The Canadians I knew and grew up with were quieter and more private.  

Generality #2- If there is something to celebrate - Americans do it in a big way.

Coming from one of those private, quiet families, this kind of behavior was a shock to me. In fact, I thought the whole thing a bit gauche (I was 23 and had a number of opinions).  I thought they were flaunting their good fortune and pride in a very public manner.

Generality #3- Canadians are much quieter.  Here’s an example. In the US, if you go into a restaurant, as a patron you feel that the restaurant is yours. You can be a little loud, and still expect to be treated well. In Canada, as a patron, you never forget that you are a guest.  You maintain a certain decorum so you don’t bother anyone else.

It wasn’t until I was invited to a couple of these garage events that I began to realize that I was 100% wrong about the families’ intentions. These milestone events were just an excuse for a party. They weren’t crowing about their good fortune, they just wanted to get together and have a little fun: grill some dogs, drink some beer, and not think about the bigger problems of the world. It’s a different sensibility. Moreover, its one that I’ve come to embrace;  I’ve become a convert to celebrating all sorts of milestones - and sometime I'm loud!

But, today was one of those of those days where, for various reasons, Hobbes’ quote about life being “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short” kept running through my brain. This last ‘brutish year’ has been incredibly difficult and, in a way, I think we’ve all been grieving. We haven’t devoted enough time to  celebrating. 

February is a tough month  because of the cold, the lack of sun, and the distance from the summer. But, February also has Valentine’s Day. You may not be able to have a party (in a garage or elsewhere) and you may not have a special someone - it doesn't matter. Celebrate it anyway  - the day is just an excuse. Take a cue from my garage-transforming neighbors. Celebrate love. Celebrate life. It’s what we’ve got. 

I’m so glad my American neighbors taught me this valuable lesson.