Today I am a Canadian. A lot of you probably don’t know The
Tragically Hip. They have been called the quintessential Canadian band. Not in
a prideful way. What they did was honor the spirit of the land. My wife and I
discovered The Tragically Hip shortly after we got our own place. We were the
lucky ones. Instead of having to see them at packed arenas and festivals in
Canada, we got to see them play bars and even once in a college gym. We danced
to “Fireworks” and the amazing poetry of Gordon Downie became the anthem for
our marriage.

I guess I have always been a little bit Canadian. When we
went to see them here in a small venue in Indianapolis we wore t-shirts with
the Canadian flag on them. After the show, as the ex-pats and those who
followed the band all the way from Canada hung out on the sidewalk and basked
in the afterglow of that amazing performance, folks would come up to us and ask
what province we were from. We giggled and told them the truth, that we were the
lucky few Americans that loved this band. But in our hearts we were Canadian
that day.

Gordon Downie made the trip to Fiddler’s Green today. Our
world is blessed for having known him.

The myth is neither here nor there, from the air
It’s just blue lake stains and green
And purified and parcelled squares
A crazy quilt of spearmint
Of mustard and honey tones
A scuffed-up kitchen floor
Of tiles on top of bones with a big trap door
Towns down diagonal lines
Disappear and drop out of sight
Into the night
Beyond the endless night
And underneath the grit and glare
In the unfettered nothingness and thin air
As herds of clouds lazily graze
On thermal sighs of delight
The Starpainters are taking over now
Their scaffolding is in its place
Your anaesthesiologist tonight
Is washing up and on her way