Shortly before Christmas, a company I work with sent out a message to its customers advising them of shorter holiday hours for telephone customer service and technical support. Imbued with the spirit of Jesus, a customer in Cumberland County saw fit to reply:
I am sure that your boss has ordered compliance with the goddam politically correct and inoffensive crowd that is prevalent these days, but it is Merry Christmas or Happy Christmas in your correspondence with me, otherwise don’t bother.
I once threatened that the next person that bowed and cowered to the middle East and Asian immigrants’ demands, and wished me a “Happy Holiday,” I would punch him/her in the face.
I don’t care what church you go to or what you believe, this is Canada, and in Canada, we celebrate Christmas. Those who are offended by that should reconsider their decision to come here and retrace their steps to whatever pathetic swamp they came from. I have no love, and little caring, for those who would come to my country and change everything that I spent forty years in uniform to protect.
Having grown up in the United States, I’m accustomed to having one’s countrymen make you feel embarrassed for your country, but it doesn’t happen often in Canada. This gent managed to pull it off.
Now consider the pre-Christmas experience of three young Germans spending the year in Cape Breton, where they serve as live-in assistants to men and women with developmental disabilities at l’Arche. Finding themselves with four days off from their intense duties, the adventuresome trio made a quick trip to Newfoundland, where they booked rooms at Sheppard’s B&B in Gros Morne National Park.
Ka Klicker, who called for the reservation, noted that proprietor Doris Shepphard, “seems to be very nice.”
The night of their arrival in Trout River happened to coincide with the annual Christmas party Doris hosts for her church group. Nothing would do but that the Germans join the party. And to their astonishment, when they got to the celebration, each was presented with a personalized Christmas card and a small gift.
“It was unbelievable,” said Klicker, who had already told me, a few weeks earlier, that the warmth of the welcome she received in Cape Breton was the thing she found most surprising about Canada. Now Western Newfoundland trumped even this standard of hospitality.
“Everyone in Newfoundland was just so friendly, so welcoming, so kind,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “This would not happen in Germany. Germans are friendly, but not like this.”
To resurrect a shopworn phrase, my Canada includes Sheppard’s B&B. And reduced holiday hours.