I love my country.  I will have a heart full of gratitude every day of my life that it is mine.  It’s a lot like having relatives who sometimes make choices that disappoint or embarrass us.  I will love them forever and be so glad they are mine in spite of everything.

I often joke when I am traveling in a foreign country that it is just safer upon meeting people to say one is from Saskatoon.  I can pull that off.  I have been to a Timbers game and can sing “O, Canada” with gusto.  No one much chews out a Canadian.

You really have to be there to understand this particular rite.

Switzerland is another country I often admire.  Here we have strong lobbies on both sides of a universal military draft and weaponry.  This week Switzerland voted overwhelmingly to continue compulsory military service.  Every male citizen  — I know this is sexist.  Switzerland did not enfranchise women until 1971, for heaven’s sake!  So things are not perfect in Heidi-land either.  But I digress. — Every man  between eighteen and thirty-four goes through basic training and then keeps a uniform and a weapon, but no ammo, at home in a closet, ready for action.  Last time they saw any was in 1798 when Napoleon invaded.  I wonder whether they look like the guards at the Vatican.

I could never fake being Swiss.  Like most Americans, I am mono-lingual for the most part. The patriarch of the family next door is Swiss and I sometimes get to speak my school-girl French with him.  Of course, he is also fluent in English, German, and Italian.  I am jealous.  I am also jealous of their three-generation family all together in one house.  They are the most cheerful family I know.  Sometimes, I fantasize about daughters who live in Portland or Bend or about Joannie and Terri and Mother all moving into 1880 with me.  I have even thought that we would rent one of those storage units for the jet skis over there by the river.  But I digress.