Patriotism and Exile

Watching what is going on in Europe, particularly the UK, and Australia, I reflect on my own personal history. My family were from Nottingham, England. In the 1740s one branch was caught poaching the King's deer and transported to Canada, an alternative destination for convicts other than Australia. We lived in Ontario, Saskatchewan, Alberta (where I was born), and British Columbia for some fourteen generations until I moved to Mexico.

Mexico, certainly in comparison to Canada, Australia and the UK, is quite a patriotic country. Every September the whole country is festooned with the Mexican flag:

Something Mexico has in common with the US is the use of an eagle as a national symbol. The American eagle on the national seal is depicted clutching, in one taloned fist, an olive branch, symbolizing peace and in the other, thirteen arrows, symbolizing war. The eagle on the Mexican flag is perched on a cactus clutching a rattlesnake. Come September the flag is seen everywhere, even flying from every taxi.

In Canada the rather insipid national flag is rarely seen except on government buildings. Patriotism is very much suppressed in Canada.

But in England and to a lesser extent in Australia, there has been a recent upwelling of displays of St. George's Cross, the national flag of England:

So as I sit, musing on the history of my family, I munch on the food of my people, English Breakfast Tea and an English muffin with marmalade, and observe with interest the upwelling of patriotism in England called "Operation Raise the Colours":

I suppose the underlying truth here is that who you are and where you are from flows as a subtext underneath the surface of your life, no matter where you are now.