A topic I have danced around for a while is my 'Canadian-American' label.
My father was born and raised in the greater 'Halbrite / Ralph Metropolitan Area' of Saskatchewan. (Due to urban sprawl, these once distinct community have been absorbed as outer suburbs of 'Greater Weyburn'.) Due to the luck of a very complicated series of events and changes in citizenship rules, when the family stopped ping-ponging between Illinois and Saskatchewan, my father was able to choose his mother's American citizenship, but his full blood sister was, and remained a Canadian citizen for most of her adult life. (She finally changed a few years back.)
I have enough kinfolk scattered all through the wind swept and desolate prairies of Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba, and in the lake dotted wasteland on western Ontario that it is a virtual certainty, that I know someone, who knows someone, who knows Poobomber.
I've been using the term 'Canadian-American' for years, mostly because I love how stupid it sounds. After all, you can't be ethnically 'Canadian' and Canadians, living on North America, are 'Americans' so to speak.
But you can have a little fun with your heritage.
We're due for another family reunion in a few years. Hope they let me in the country.
Breast Cake Ever!
Jim Carrey's daugher has nice tats.