Remember when Canadians and Americans treated each other like close family and the best of friends? It wasn’t all that long ago when communities along both sides of our longest border and any vacationers could just show ID and be cheerfully waived through. The last time I visited Canada, several decades ago, was when we rented an out-of-season ski cabin for the summer in Jay Peak, Vermont. Ironically, other than our first night (when we got to enjoy the fireplace) that summer proved to be one of the hottest on record in Vermont, and the coolest in South Florida! So, we spent a lot of time in not-so-freezing local lakes and exploring the neighborhood, including an impulsive drive across the nearby Canadian border.
We’d come from a park music festival featuring, of all things, a Klezmer (traditional Yiddish music) band, and a local farmers’ market where we’d bought some fresh produce. The Canadian border guard believed us when we said we’d leave these in the trunk as they were just for our personal consumption when we returned. He was however bemused when we explained we were heading to Canada for lunch, insisting there was nothing out there but farmland. But he let us through. And after miles of circular haystacks, we found a quaint local farm museum that signed us up for an annual family membership (at a very low rate, and cheaper than two single-day passes).
