Dear (dis)United States of America,

I’m off to Canada tomorrow. I know you will miss me. Gonna be rough, so many fond memories with Lynn. However, I am taking two friends. Seth Harp, in the form of his book, “The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces”. And James Rebanks, in the form of his book, “The Place of Tides”.

Maybe I won’t run to Oak Bay. Maybe I won’t swim in the salt-based 25-meter pool underneath the hotel. Maybe I won’t sit in the steam room after not swimming in the pool. Maybe I won’t go to my fave restaurants or Victoria’s REI, MEC—Mountain Equipment Coop. Maybe I won’t go to “our” theatre. Maybe I’ll just cocoon with Harp and Rebanks. No outdoor equipment required for that. You know, just lean into the grief and Howard Hughes it.

If the Canadians look at my application for asylum, and conclude, “Oh, they don’t send their best.” I’ll be back midweek.

If I do have to return, I hope you will have used Monday to rethink your plan to completely disrupt the global world order and Tuesday to put it back together. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.