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recent newspaper car-ried an item about ut ut mnew Canadians comciti ti-plaining that their citieen ee n zenship test had b been ev ve en n too difficult, that even ra ais ised d in in people born and raised be able ab ble to to Canada would not be on ns. New CaCaanswer the questions. ey Woo-Alleyey” Woo Alley ll nadian, Aristotle “Limey” ople born and Sing agrees. “Even people raised in Canada would not be able to answer the questions,” Woo-AlleySing says. There was also commentary by other Canadians who dismissed the complaint by saying that potential citizens should have to study and learn something of the country’s history before they are allowed to gain citizenship. Jeremy Riverbottom, a long-time Canadian, commented while skinning a beaver with the curved blade of his son’s hockey stick. “Potential citizens should have to study and learn something of the country’s history before they are allowed to gain citizenship,” Riverbottom says. “I mean, how difficult is it to remember that Justin Beiber is a Canadian.” After listening to both sides, I’ve decided that Riverbottom is wrong. These immigrants deserve their new status, not because of any ability to regurgitate founding facts, but because of their instinctive recognition of the one characteristic, shared by all Canadians, that contributes most to binding us together as a culture and as a nation—our universal love of whining, bellyaching and complaining. I believe that this is the only relevant requirement for citizenship and that the recent grumblings have aptly met that criteria. However, this does lead to a question. What is it that makes a Canadian? What unique traits define us and make us different from other cultures? After pondering this through most of my last coffee break, I believe that I have isolated two qualities. The first is well known—my and every other Canadian’s predilection for saying “eh.” “Eh” is more than a sound. It’s a statement of opinion, “Eh Bob... she’s a fast one, eh.”
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El Ojo del Lago / May 2018
question, “She is, It’s a question is eh?” It’s a fixed expression, “Eh Bob ... I’d run around her block, eh.” It’s an exclamation, “Effin-eh ... maybe a marathon on ‘er mattress, eh!” It’s a statement of fact, “Eh Bob ... I did it, eh. I chalked a story on her blackboard, eh.”” It’s a command, “Tell me the story, eh.” It’s a narrative, “Eh Bob ... we were dancing, eh. We went out for a smoke, eh. We got in the back seat of my car, eh. I wrote my story, eh.” It’s an accusation, “Hold on, eh. You’re lying, eh. You ain’t got a car, eh.” It’s an insult, “Eh Bob ... Maybe no car, eh. But I got the chalk, eh ... and you don’t, eh.” Eh is also an affirmation, a descriptor, an adjective, a salutation and a signifier of agreement. As such, it is almost as useful as the f-word. In fact, there is nothing more powerful in the language of a Canadian than the two used together. “Effin-eh” is as close as two Canadians can get to a meeting of the minds. “Eh” also has a number of punctuational functions, often taking the place of a question mark, an exclamation point or a period. Eh is actually added because of uncertainty. Once you get to know a Canadian you will discover that he or she is uncertain about everything although often we cleverly disguise this fact with belligerence and insults to Americans. The speaker is really trying to ascertain the level of comprehension, interest and agreement veiled within the listener. When I ask, “What constitutes a Canadian, eh?” It’s a question but I also want affirmation that it is a legitimate question. When I say, “She’s gained a lot of weight, eh.”