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Harry’s Bar

Like many of you, I was appalled at the chaos unleashed at the U.S. Capitol the other day. It was especially sad to see that beautiful building, a place many of us have been to, invaded by swarms of ugly, hateful rioters.

My one and only visit there was in June 2019, when my husband and I took off for a whirlwind trip to New York City and Washington. Our good friends joined us for the NYC part of the trip, but we visited Washington on our own.

To be honest, I wasn’t all that excited about the idea of going to Washington. For one thing, the occupier of the White House did not impress me much. But my husband had always been interested in visiting the city, so I tagged along.

We took the train from New York through Philadelphia, along the Delaware River past Wilmington, Baltimore and finally into Washington D.C. It was a great way to see a little bit of the eastern coast of the U.S.

We booked an older hotel, not far from the National Mall and within walking distance of many of Washington’s landmarks and museums. On our first afternoon and evening, we took a bus tour to get our bearings and to see the sights at night.

I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by the city. The architecture was impressive, especially the Capitol building. The history represented in places like the Lincoln and Thomas Jefferson Memorials, was inspiring. And there were so many museums. We could easily have spent weeks there exploring it all. I was especially moved by the Korean Veteran’s War Memorial, where we witnessed two vets, both in wheelchairs, introduce themselves to each other, sharing their memories of that time.

We did manage to drop by the Whitehouse. I was a little hesitant to go at first, but we found out that the Orange One was off golfing somewhere at the time, so that made the visit somewhat easier to stomach. And what gave me a little sense of hope were the other members of the public who were there, out on the street in front of the White House, protesting his presidency. A man stood on a riser with a megaphone and spoke out against many Trump transgressions. Another fellow seemed to be a permanent fixture, living in a tiny trailer across the street plastered with protest signs.

But we also noticed the numerous souvenir vendors along the way, selling pro-Trump paraphernalia. Bobble heads and MAGA hats, t-shirts and buttons. People were gleefully buying all this stuff.

At one point, we saw a busload of what appeared to be high school students, disembarking for a tour of the Capitol building. A number of them were wearing those unmistakable red caps, which was particularly disappointing. So young, and likely completely unaware of what that hat actually meant.

All of these things were like ugly scars on an otherwise beautiful city. This historic and distinguished community had been crashed by a nasty clown.

I’ve mentioned our hotel, which seemed to be a good deal when I booked it. It was an older building and the room we stayed in was pretty much stuck in the 70s, but it had everything we needed. Downstairs there was a restaurant and bar that we tried out a couple of times. And, of course, there was a souvenir shop with MAGA hats. Groan.

Harry’s Bar was a little bit dark, but certainly colourful, with stained glass light fixtures and red soda fountain chairs from some other decade. There appeared to be a regular crowd that hung out there. People who knew the place.

So it was a surprise to us when the name of that hotel popped up in the news the other day. With all of the Trump supporters expected to crash Washington to attend his rally, the hotel was promoting the fact that it would temporarily shut down.

Why? Because the Hotel Harrington, the place we stayed, is apparently a favourite hangout of the Proud Boys. And Harry’s is their bar of choice.

In 2019, I’m not sure if the term “Proud Boys” had entered into my consciousness yet. I wouldn’t have recognized the people in Harry’s as being anything other than maybe a bunch of bikers or something like that.

I remember standing in front of the White House back then and reminding myself of something important: that presidents whom I have admired had also occupied that famous residence. Presidents who understood and respected the office they held. I looked at it again, with that in mind, and it felt much better.

In a couple of weeks, the White House will once again be occupied by someone I have great respect for. Someone who understands that the presidency isn’t just about the President.

January 20, 2021 can’t come soon enough.

To Be Canadian


I spent Canada Day at the mall.

But I had on my Canada Day shirt, not a t-shirt but a shirt actually sewn by my daughter, white maple leafs on a red background, and I wore it proudly. There were a few people at the mall in red and white, but not many. You have to go to the events to really see them…I know that from experience.

Normally I go to Fort Rodd Hill, a historical part of Vancouver Island, where there are ceremonies with representatives from all levels of government, a 21-gun salute and lots of birthday cake and activities. But this year I was sans my partner, so I ended up at the mall instead, doing some shopping for an upcoming family wedding.

To tell you the truth, my favourite part of Canada Day is not the local celebrations or the barbeque or the cold beers and flag waving. It’s watching new Canadians receiving their citizenship. My family are all immigrants one or two generations back, the nearest one to me being my mother, who became a proud Canadian in the 1950’s. She immigrated from Denmark after the Korean War, and decided that she loved Canada so much that she wanted to stay here.

She often joked that she knew more about Canada than Canadians did because she had to go through some rigorous testing on her knowledge of Canadian history and politics before she could get her papers. She was proud, very proud of her adopted country, and she worked hard to learn the language and remove her Danish accent.

When I see families who have come from other countries under very difficult political or socio-economic circumstances, choosing this country because they know that they can make a better life…well, I tear up pretty good.

They know the truth about how good we have it here much better than we do. It’s easy to take it for granted when all we have known is freedom and opportunity. There are a lot of young people right now who could learn a lot by spending a month or two in an impoverished or politically oppressed country. I hope they grow up to learn the real value of the country they live in. Canada. 

I know there are other wonderful countries in the world. But today is Canada Day, and I am unabashedly joyful and grateful to be here.

Happy Canada Day!

IJ

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