This.... this is My Canada

One day for father's day, my loving wife and kids gave my a charcoal bar-b-Que. "Big deal," you say. Well it was a big deal. Yes I do enjoy a propane bar-b-Que. Yes it's faster to cook on, easier to use, and a lot easier to clean up after. However, sometimes getting there is as much a part of the journey as arriving. That's what a charcoal bar-b-que is all about.

I went shopping and found the most perfect pieces of beef to christen my new old fashion toy with. Started the charcoal and patiently waited as the black hunks of coal turned to grey. Then I put the steaks on, grabbed an ice cold beer and enjoyed the moment. The enticing aroma of cooking beef rolled across the cul du sac that we lived on.

Neighbours started coming out of their homes, wondering where this delicious teasing aroma originated from. Steaks done to my satisfaction, I pulled them off the grill and went inside to enjoy my feast. I can still taste that steak, and it was the best ones I have had in years. Nothing finer then a hunk of mad cow cooked to perfection on a charcoal bar-b-que. Served with sauteed mushrooms, onions and a baked potato.

Then came dessert. This is where the story really comes to focus. Out came the marsh mallows and a stick. All of the kids from the neighbourhood were running around and playing when one of them stopped to watch what I doing. She moved in a little closer, curiosity getting the best of her as I impaled the last of two marshmallows onto my roasting fork and held it over the dying heat of my hibachi. The intense heat slowly turned the two delights into a crisp golden brown.

I turned the fork ever so slowly over the coals, cooking my dessert evenly. She still looked on with new amazement. Marshmallows cooked to my satisfaction, I brought the end of the fork closer and pull one off and plopped it into my mouth. The little girl's head tilted to one side. She has never seen this done before. I slid over to one side of the porch and motioned for this young girl to come and sit beside me. She firmly parked herself and turned to me. I slid the last marshmallow off the fork, handed it to and smiled as she held the sticky, crisp marshmallow in her little hands. Then she looked up at me, dark eyes smiled as she raised her hand to her mouth and took a small bite. She giggled as a piece of it stuck to her lips. Then she quickly placed the rest of it in her mouth, got up and ran off looking for her own stick.

The rest of the kids at this time had stopped to watched as this little girl first tried this new treat. They to ran off and looked for sticks. Next thing I know, we had a little marshmallow party on our front porch.

This is my Canada. When you look at this photograph it is my version of the United Nations in it's simplest form. This marshmallow party represents Canada, India, Pakistan, El Salvador, Romania and England. All that was needed was a charcoal bar-b-que, sticks and yes.... a bag of marshmallows.