America, Part Three - the 3rd in a five part series...

So the 80s were a weird time to come of age. As the 80s began, and us "Gen X'ers" were awakening sexually and socially, we were hit with many impediments. First, AIDS came on the scene. Even though, in the 80s, it was seen as a gay disease, I knew from the get-go that it was more than that. There were reports, almost immediately, that AIDS was present in prostitutes, and thus it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that ANYONE could get it. Thus, the "Free sex" generation of the 60s and 70s was over. Now, we were stuck with "sex could equal death". Harsh and polemic? Yes. But effective in making one think twice about casual sex? Tres fucking bien. I became a prude. Which was a good thing for a horn-dog. I have never taken anything lightly.

As I became a teenager, I also became, well... what I would call a bleeding heart Socialist. There is some comment attributed to Churchill or someone that a man at 18 who isn't a Socialist isn't intelligent, but a man at 40 who is still a Socialist is a fool, or something like that. Well. Remember 17? Remember how passionately you felt about things? Fuck, I would have endorsed a gay Muslim for president, if that was possible. You see, the other option was Reagan. And I was terrified of him.

Seriously, I was terrified of Reagan. I thought he hated the Russians, who in turn hated us, and as he never uttered the word AIDS in 8 years, I considered him suspect. His love of "family values" scared me. Thus, I distrusted him. Even though I wasn't sure if my own PM uttered anything about AIDS, I did know that he wouldn't be tempted to bomb the Russians. remember Sting's song "Russians"? Well, it should have said "I hope the AMERICANS love their children too". I distrusted Reagan and the Right, and knew that my fellow Canadians wouldn't burn down a house where someone like Ryan White lived. I remember, in grade 10, at a school dance, there was some dude from another town there, who had a shirt that said "AIDS kills fags dead" and being traumatized that someone would callously wear a shirt like that. I had a feeling that this shit could fly in America.

In the 80s, it was us versus them, and it wasn't clear who "them" was. I remember waiting anxiously to watch the movie "The Day After" on TV, and for whatever reasons, it somehow didn't work. All we saw was colour bars. Conspiracy theory much? Anyway, it was 1983, and I didn't trust America. I suddenly fell in love with my country, and was proud to separate myself from the "other".

Suddenly I became smug. I was proud of Canada, proud that our citizens could get medical attention without mortgaging their houses, etc. I also remember reading one of my favourite author's books, "The Cat Ate my Gym Suit" by Paula Danzinger. In the book, the cool teacher gets fired for not saying the Pledge of Allegiance. As someone who lived in a "polite" country, I couldn't fathom this patriotism. I thought the Pledge was offensive, and an impediment to free will. I also couldn't get over the draft. Oh sure, they didn't call it the draft then, but the whole "Registration to serve." or whatever they call it. As a Canadian with a penis, I was really scared of the thought of being in that situation - hanging out with Hawkeye and Clinger and living in those tents and getting the clap from Geisha girls..... that's what I knew about war. And really - could you picture ME drafted?? Can you see me firing a gun? Could you see me without a feathertop bed? It just wouldn't work. I couldn't eat powdered eggs and shit in a pail and shoot innocent people. So the thought of this registration thing could KILL you, well, I was against it. I was ready to hoard likeminded American boys my age in my closet via some underground railroad to keep them out of the Cold War I was convinced was going to happen. Solidarity now, as my Polish compatriots said!

So, I took pride in having the option to piss on the flag if I wanted to, and to abstain from the military, and was completely ignorant to the fact that i could walk into any doctor or hospital, and it wouldn't cost me a dime.

And while the music was still suspect in many situations, and I HATED the French channel and anything east of Winnipeg, we did get one cool show - Degrassi High, which was just like high school. Degrassi made me proud to be a Canadian.

Of course, that isn't to say that product placement won't fit into this post. I still loved cheap American beer, and had a thing for stinky American cigarettes (back in my smoking days). Indeed, if I ever cheated on my smoking abstention, after NINE years, it would be for a Marlboro Menthol Light 100. I also loved crossing the border and taking advantage of everything out there. When my darling rachel and I hooked in in 1990, we took a bunch of trips over the next few summers, just to North Dakota. Even though ND was far from any kind of cultural hub, I was amazed at how cheap things were, and the variety of things. In Minot, a town the same size as the one we lived in, the shopping and products were endless. As I spent my teen years and most of my 20s OBSESSED with music and music collecting, I about wet my pants to see that entire back catalogues of many artists were available at Target, and often for under 10 bucks. And, of course, there were the many products NOT available here, so I'd be stocking up on shit like crazy. In short, it was a love affair with America in a way.

And then we stopped going there. And I sort of forgot my fascination again and got smugly Canadian. You see, I got smug about our medical care, and, even though we fluctuate between Liberal and Conservative governments, I knew I would take my Conservative government any day over an American Republican government. And you know hoe you would her of those stories of Americans travelling in Europe with maple leafs on their backpacks to pretend they were Canucks? I ate that shit up. I read a lot of Rolling Stone, so I only saw the bad stuff, like Bush toughening pot laws and stuff. Smug I was, and distrustful of America and the Heartland.

Indeed, we took an American hiatus from 1992 to 2000. In Feb. 2000, (I can't remember if I ever posted this story), my in-laws found this bus trip to Deadwood, South Dakota. It was like 4 nights, 5 days, and was like $125 a person. So, my inlaws, and Rachel and I, hopped on this bus, at 4:30 AM, and proceeded to pick up many other people, all seniors, and headed to Deadwood. We got there at like 7:00 PM, after a whole day of playing Bingo and watching.... I can't spell it... Yackoff Smirnoff?... videos, and listening to Rita McNeil cds and learning all the words. The tour bus lady, Judy, called the Bingo, and pronounced "Seven" as "ssseffen" as in "cee-row ssseffen". I have a pick of my mother in law, the second youngest person on the bus after us, giving good old Judy the finger behind a bingo card. Lots of fun. But I digress.

I still remember that other fateful day in 2003 when I crossed the American border. Picture it: I was in the capital city of my province, Regina, for a whole week, for work meetings and work celebrations. Rachel was 4 hours north of Regina, 8 months pregnant., Well, the one day, my meeting ends at noon, and I have nothing to do from then until the next evening, when some fucking Prince of England and his wife come to bless the building where our head office is. So, that day, when the meeting is done, I pack up and decide to head to ND for the day. And what a day it was.

I will leave you hanging until tomorrow.

Peace out, lovebugs.