A Rambling Post I'll Call "Ode to an Irishman and the North"

I once knew an Irishman who personified the best of the best Irish stereotypes. No one could drink like he could.

We once snuck in to the Irish Pavilion at Saskatoon's Folkfest - through the back door, of course. No need to pay to get in. After all, we were intent on drinking enough to more than pay for our night's entertainment. Unlike the rest of the pavilions, the place was invariably packed with barely standing room only. If you got in early enough in the evening you stayed. If you came too late, you were outta luck. Oddly enough, Folkfest's Irish Pavilion had it's liquor license rescinded only a few years later. Pity that.

A staunch defender of the Irish Republican Army, Mr. Burke spent his Canadian life teaching in schools in Northern Canada, stirring up revolutionary zeal amongst his charges. Amazingly, being of English extraction myself, we got along famously. Both being party animals, perhaps we were kindred souls. Must have been our common Celtic roots. Or at least, I like to think I have Celtic roots, although it may be Saxon.

Anyway, here's to you Lord Burke, wherever you are:





And while we're in to things Canadian and Celtic and in honour of Harper's Arctic sovereignty tour, here's a goody from Canada's most famous Celt, Stan Rogers:



Which is the segue to the rambling part.

It's ours, Yanks. We were there first. Look at the names of some of those islands, villages, rivers and straits: Victoria, Prince of Wales, Prince Patrick, Prince Charles, Queen Elizabeth Islands, Somerset, King William, Baffin, Hudson (we even have a huge salt-water bay named after him and the voyage from which he never returned), Beaufort, Mackenzie, named after one of Canada's most famous explorers, Parry, Melville, and, although political correctness has erased the name from our atlases, alas, even Frobisher. These were Brits and they were there long before the Americans. Even the Russians beat you to Alaska, as I'm sure y'all know. I mean, haven't you noticed all those places on the map are pink. Canadian pink. Not to be confused with commie pink. Rather, it's the standard colour for lands belonging to the former British Commonwealth. We've been planting our flags there forever.

I mean we even very nearly came to blows with Denmark a few years back over a lonely, cold pile of rocks in the sea, but about the only thing that ensued was much hilarity. But as far as the Russians are concerned, that's a different matter. And we thought the Cold War was over.