older than most of them-and they certainly seemed no more confused or troubled than many of the Americans I had known at home. Unlike Buzzy Thurston, for example, they had not driven their cars head-on into a bridge abutment in an effort to beat the draft. Unlike Harry Hoyt, they had not been bitten to death by a Russell's viper while waiting for their turn with a Vietnamese whore. And to my surprise, the Canadians I met actually liked me. And with my graduate degree-and even my junior teaching experience at such a prestigious school as Gravesend Academy-I was instantly respectable and almost immediately employed. The distinction I hastened to make, to almost every Canadian I met, was probably a waste of time; that I wasn't there as a draft dodger or a deserter didn't really matter very much to the Canadians. It mattered to the Americans I met, and I didn't like how they responded: that I was in Canada by choice, that I was not a fugitive, and that I didn't have to be in Toronto-in my view, this made my commitment more serious; but in their view I was less desperate and, therefore, less serious. It's true: we Wheelwrights have rarely suffered. And unlike most of those other Americans, I also had the church; don't underestimate the church-its healing power, and the comforting way it can set you apart. My first week in Toronto, I had an interview at Upper Canada College; the whole school made me feel that I'd never left Gravesend Academy! They didn't have an opening in their English Department, but they assured me that my vitae was 'most laudable' and that I'd have no trouble finding a job. They were so helpful, they sent me the short distance down Lonsdale Road to Grace Church on-the-Hill; Canon Campbell, they said, was especially interested in helping Americans. Indeed he was. When the canon asked me what my church was, I said, 'I guess I'm an Episcopalian.'
'You guess!' he said. I explained that I'd not attended an actual service in the Episcopal Church since the famous Nativity of '; thinking of Hurd's Church and Pastor Merrill's rather lapsed Congregationalism, I said, 'I guess I'm sort of nondenominational.'
'Well, we'll fix thatl' Canon Campbell said. He gave me my first Anglican prayer book, my first Canadian prayer book; it is The Book of Common Prayer that I still use. It was as simple as that: joining a church, becoming an Anglican. I wouldn't call any of it suffering. And so the first Canadians I knew were churchgoers-an almost universally helpful lot, and much less confused and troubled than the few Americans I'd met in Toronto (and most Americans I had known at home). These Grace Church on-the-Hill Anglicans were conservative; 'conservative'-
about certain matters of propriety, especially-is perfectly all right with us Wheelwrights. About such matters, New Eng-landers have more in common with Canadians than we have with New Yorkersl For example, I quickly learned to prefer the positions stated by the Toronto Anti-Draft Programme to those more abrasive stances of the Union of American Exiles. The Toronto Anti-Draft Programme favored 'assimilation into mainstream Canadian life'; they considered the Union of American Exiles 'too political'-by which they meant, too activist, too rnilitantly anti-United States. Possibly, the Union of American Exiles was contaminated by their open dealings with deserters. The object of the Toronto Anti-Draft Programme was to get Americans 'assimilated' quickly; they reasoned that we Americans should begin the process of our assimilation by dropping the subject of the United States. At the beginning, this seemed so reasonable-and so easy- to me. Within a year of my arrival, even the Union of American Exiles showed signs of 'assimilation.' The acronym AMEX changed in meaning from American Exile to American Expatriate. Doesn't that sound more agreeable to the aim of 'assimilation into mainstream Canadian life'? I thought so. When some of those Grace Church on-the-Hill Anglicans asked me what I thought of Prime Minister Pearson's 'old point of view'-that the deserters (as opposed to the war resistors) were in a category of U.S. citizens to be discouraged from coming to Canada-I actually said I agreed! Even though-as I've admitted-I'd never met a harsh deserter, not one. The ones I met were 'in a category of citizens' that any country could have used and even appreciated. And when it was aired in the Twenty-eighth Parliament-in -that U.S. deserters were being turned back at the border because they were 'persons who were likely to become public charges,' I never actually said-to any of my Canadian Mends-that I suspected these deserters were no more likely to become 'public charges' than / was likely to become such a charge. By then, Canon Campbell had introduced me to old Teddybear Kilgore, who had hired me to teach at Bishop Strachan. We Wheelwrights have always benefited from our connections. Owen Meany didn't have any connections. It was never easy for him to fit in. I think I know what he would have said to that bullshit that was printed in The Toronto Daily Star; at the time, I thought that bullshit was so right-on-target that I cut it out of the newspaper and taped it to my refrigerator door-December , . It was in response to the AMEX published statement of the 'first five priorities' for American expatriates (the fifth being 'to try to fit into Canadian life'). To quote The Toronto Daily Star: 'Unless the young Americans for whom AMEX speaks revise their priorities and put Number Five first, they risk arousing a growing hostility and suspicion among Canadians.' I never doubted that mis was true. But I know what Owen Meany would have said about that. 'THAT SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING AN AMERICAN WOULD SAY!'' Owen Meany would have said. 'THE 'FIRST PRIORITY' IN EVERY YOUNG AMERICAN'S LIFE IS TO TRY TO FIT INTO AMERICAN LIFE. DOESN'T THE STUPID TORONTO DAILY STAR KNOW WHO THESE YOUNG AMERICANS IN CANADA ARE! THESE ARE AMERICANS WHO LEFT THEIR COUNTRY BECAUSE THEY COULDN'T AND DIDN'T WANT TO 'FIT IN.' NOW THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT THEIR 'FIRST PRIORITY' TO 'FIT IN' HERE? BOY-THAT MAKES A LOT OF SENSE; THAT'S REALLY BRILLIANT. THAT'S WORTH ONE OF THOSE STUPID JOURNALISM AWARDSl'
But I didn't complain; I didn't bitch about anything-not then. I thought I'd heard Hester 'bitch' enough for a lifetime. Remember the War Measures Act? I didn't say a word; I' agreed with everything. So what if civil liberties were suspended for six months? So what that there could be searches without warrants? So what if people could be detained without counsel for up to ninety days? All the action was happening in Montreal. If Hester had been in Toronto then, not even Hester would have been arrested! I just kept quiet; I was cultivating my Canadian friendships, and most of my friends thought that Trudeau could do no wrong, that he was a prince. Even my dear old friend Canon Campbell made a rather empty remark to me-but I would never
