I’m in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, on my way from central Alberta to central Virginia. I haven’t been south of the border in several months now, and I thought I’d pause to mention that the USA is still the USA. It is not Canada. For one thing, I’ve been in the States nearly an hour now and I have yet to see a maple leaf or a single mention of either ice hockey or David Suzuki.

For another thing, there’s the bustle, vigor, and unconcern that together make America something I remember and understand. It is the distinctive frenzy that defines my country, and although it may sometimes help tilt the US towards social disaster and diplomatic enmity, I am proud of it. On the other hand, I already miss a little of Canada’s austere conscientiousness. One fellow said that, although the Canadian people are trusting and their policies progressive, compared to the USA “Canada has the pizzazz and intensity of vanilla ice cream served in a paper cup.” That assessment has got some truth in it, and I hope that both my Canadian and my American readers will take it as a compliment.