I’d never been to Canada before. I knew with certainty that all Canadians talk like Bob and Doug McKenzie, the comic hosts of Second City TV’s “Great White North” sketch, and I knew that Canada has given us Ted Cruz, Justin Bieber and Dudley Do-Right. And I knew that Rob Ford, a crack-smoking Chris Farley clone, had been the mayor of Toronto, the city where I had been invited to address a conference of hundreds of Canadian Superior Court Judges.
On the flight, my wife, Ellen, and I watched “Rumpole of the Bailey,” “Chip ’n’ Dale” cartoons and “Fargo” to prepare ourselves.
The man stamping our passports stood in front of a portrait of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth. “So you’re going to make judges laugh? Best of luck, sir.”
Much to our disappointment he did not call either of us “hosers” or say “take off, eh.” At least I had the good cheer to say, “Howdy, buckaroo.”
My limo ride consisted of a judge driving a practical sedan. Judge Peter Hambly was so polite it appeared to pain him to ask us, “Do you believe Trump might win?”
“I’m a cartoonist. It’s my daily prayer.”
We learned that in his youth Hambly had been a high school history teacher. He told us high school teachers in Canada earn $90,000, a fact that, in turn, pained us.
I fiddled with my bolo tie. “In Arizona we pay them with tumbleweeds, sunshine and whiskey.”
As the judge drove us past skyscrapers we laughed together at Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker’s proposal to build a wall between Canada and the United States. Oh, you funny Americans.
Toronto is a friendly and beautiful booming cosmopolitan international metropolis. At the Doubletree, we unpacked. Posted on the door of our hotel room was this advice: “You’re in a new city, you meet some nice person at a restaurant or a show, and think, what’s the harm of inviting them back to the hotel? May we suggest that if you want to get to know a stranger better, do it in a very public, very well lighted place, not in your hotel room.”
That night we met a friendly couple dining at the table next to us. She was a botanist. He was a city planner and an avid hunter. “I hunt geese. The buggers crap everywhere. But, I have to say we’re not insane about guns like your country. What’s with you Americans and guns?”
We became good friends and remained in a very public, very well lighted place.
Canadians speak plainly. That night we walked pass a gleaming children’s hospital. The name of the hospital was plain for all to see in neon script: “Sick Kids.”
At next evening’s banquet, where I was to speak, my wife and I were seated next to a very conservative justice. I asked him if taxes were high.
“We pay a 15 percent tax on just about everything. Our income tax can be as high as 50 percent.”
“And your healthcare?”
“Completely free. For everyone. There’s a cap on what doctors can earn so they do Botox and that sort thing on the side. I had to wait three months for my back surgery. But it didn’t cost me anything. The care was excellent. Where are you from?”
“Arizona.”
The table hushed as though a gunslinger had just entered the saloon through swinging doors. A justice at the podium welcomed everyone and then we toasted the Queen. I privately toasted Queen Latifah.
The judges and justices and laughed. After my show the Chief Justice Heather Smith beckoned me. “We so enjoyed your intelligent humor. It was perfect for this audience!” Rats. I was never going to hear a Canadian say, “Take off, ya’ hoser.”
Afterward, at the hospitality suite, a young judge said to me, “May I ask you a question? I’m a hunter. I was wondering … what is it with you Americans and guns?” Just then a Justice added, just to rub it in, “Guns are not mentioned once in our Constitution.”
I thought fast. “Oh yeah? What about Rob Ford?!”
“Ford’s gone.”
The next day Ellen and I were invited to join a gaggle of judges who were going to see the traveling Magna Carta on display at Fort York, the very same fort that Americans burned to the ground some time around the War of 1812. In response, Canadians marched south with their British cousins and burned our White House to the ground. A young law clerk on the bus ride back from Fort York said, “Where exactly are you from?”
I said, “Oregon” at the exact same time my wife said “Vermont.”
The young law clerk said, “Oh. That’s lovely. May I ask you a question about the United States?”
I said, “Do you like to hunt?”
She said, “Yes! Why?”
“Oh, dear. Shoot.”
