Last night, me and my brother talked at great length about the cultural gap we have been increasingly feeling with the rest of America. It’s becoming so vivid and pronounced. More every day. The thought struck my brother that maybe our French-Canadian ancestors, maybe they never meant to stay in America. Maybe they just came down to work for a few summers. To save up some money. But then they got saddled with a wife, and kids, and a steady job. And they sort of just ended up here. But were always frustrated, secretly, instinctually, that they could never return home. And maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s time to put their souls to rest and head back north to the great motherland.

We’ll see what happens when we’re in Toronto next week, celebrating America’s independence. That should be a good barometer of whether it’s really time for us to strike camp once and for all.