My name is Joe and I am Canadian

It took digging- sometimes, a LOT, and sometimes just a little in the form of being in the right place at the right time. But the latter isn't so much chance as it is a serendipitous combination of knowing what you're looking for and willing to put up with crap until it happens. 

And through all this digging, I found that in today, in the entirety of the day, I discovered a bit of the essence of what it means to be Canadian. 

Canada is a man telling hometown stories on the stage of a vaudeville theatre in a city of 69,000, and thanking the crowd for its small population because it affords him the chance to speak with them. 

It's driving on the Trans-Canada Highway and seeing the endless road twisting and undulating in front of you as you're flanked on both sides by trees glowing brilliant reds and yellows. 

It's looking for a miner's museum and instead finding a roadside monument that has so much more heart and history behind it because it was the families of the deceased who put it up. 

It's standing on a sea floor, gaping in amazement that enormous nature monoliths were there before you, are with you now, and will still be there after you're gone. 

And it's being in one of the oldest Maritime bars, hearing live music and watching a couple in their harvest moon years dancing to their own music. 

But above all, being Canadian means going at all of these experiences wholly and without abandon.

And I, at least for today, felt it all.