Last week my family trekked out to British Columbia for a week long rendezvous with relatives from across the 49th and the Atlantic. The trip was loads of fun for us flatlanders — trees and hills, oh my! — and my Yankee and British relations seemed to enjoy themselves, perhaps due to the fact they resisted my calls for a steady diet of prairie oysters, poutine and caesars.
One of the highlights of the trip was a hike we took on Mt. Tod. On the chair lift up to the hike’s starting point who should sit beside me but Nancy Raine Greene.
The Nancy Greene.
The Canadian Female Athlete of the Century, two-time Olympic skiing medallist, and the woman brave and/or foolish enough to try to make an athlete out of Rick Mercer.
The 67-year-old Greene lives out at the Sun Peaks Resort north of Kamloops nowadays, where she is the director of skiing. She hits the slopes in winter, and hikes the mountain trails often in summer, and thus was a perfect guide for our familial hike. Thanks to her, we knew the difference between fireweed and Indian paintbrush flowers and no piece of animal dropping went unidentified.
The 17-time Canadian champion was incredibly kind to us ‘Nucks, Yanks, and Limeys. Of course, perhaps this was due to the fact that she hasn’t a worry in the world, owning the cushiest job known to man — a Canadian Senator — but I will assume that all famed Canadians are as nice as international stereotypes suggest. Thus, what follows is what I would like to do with Canada’s most beloved citizens.
With Don Cherry, I would love to stroll the streets of some rural Quebec town wearing hockey helmets sans visors. If we survived that, suit shopping would follow with no floral print left untouched.
I would certainly have a blast having 16-year-old Justin Bieber read his soon-to-be-released memoir to me. The ride from “Chapter 1: Potty training” to “Chapter 12: My Grade 8 teacher Mr. Schmidt is cool, NOT!” should be wild.
Hitting the links with The Great One: a dream come true. Placing a few in-round bets through wife Janet’s gambling ring: a quick, illegal way to make a buck.
Sidney Crosby and I could shoot pucks at a dryer one afternoon. In return, I could teach him a thing or two about beard growing.
I would love to take the beautiful Pamela Anderson on a date, if only to secure a DVD with behind the scenes footage of Baywatch.
Sitting in on a Sarah McLachlan/ Leonard Cohen joint jam session would be tantalizing, but at the risk of my head exploding, I will settle for a beer or 12 with Nickleback where we all laugh about how they are somehow popular.
Darts with Jim Balsillie (Gary Bettman’s face on the bull’s eye), another Naked Gun sequel with Leslie Nielsen, and adjusting the settings on the Stephen Harper robot would all be unmissable adventures too.
And finally, what could be more perfect than learning to speak the Star Trekkian language Klingon, not from William Shatner, but from our resident sensei, Carter Haydu. Because if you cannot say ‘Hab SoslI’ Quch!’ (your mother has a smooth forehead!) with gusto, is life really worth living?
O Canada indeed.
Myles Fish can be reached at 691-1263.
