Oh, Canada. We’re sorry.

My mother was born in Sarnia, Ontario Canada and would still probably be there if she hadn’t met my dad back in 1967.

Like many Canadians and Americans at the time it was quick and easy to get over the Blue Water Bridge from Port Huron, Michigan and she met him at a beach party up the lake shore not far from where he lived on a small farm.

My family (I’m an only child) travelled across the country while I was a kid. My dad was in road construction and I was born in Texas and I spend a number of years in both Kentucky and Louisiana before moving back to Michigan when I was a sophomore in high school.

But, before that we drove to Sarnia every Christmas and spent summer vacations in Canada.

My mother kept her Canadian citizenship until 1992 when she took her citizenship test in Detroit so she could vote for Bill Clinton. And after living 16 years in Detroit, my wife and I moved back to Port Huron (she was born and raised here) where we’ve lived ever since, raising our own daughter here. And for many years our long weekend trips were spent in Canada — Toronto, camping, sailing around the stunning Bruce Peninsula.

Oh, did I mention you can drink in Canada at 19?

Something damn near every American kid took advantage of.

If you live anywhere near the Canadian (and I’m assume the Mexican) border there’s nothing that odd about our blended backgrounds and the personal and cultural ties that bind.

But, for matters both symbolic and economically real for boarder cities, what Donald Trump has done to blow up our relationship with arguably our best friend in the world has been particularly tragic and sad.

I written before both statistically and anecdotally about what it’s done to what I consider my home town. And while it may not be quite as dramatic as closing down a big textile mill as Springsteen documented in his song of the same name, the terrible changes are impossible to ignore.

Port Huron has always relied on Canadian shoppers and diners. I was a bus boy and waiter in high school and weekends through college here, and Canadians were a big chunk of our patrons. Truth be told, Canadian notoriously tipped less on average than Americans, but that was only because servers there were paid a decent hourly wage and it was much less part of the culture. But they were almost to a man, woman or child — nice.

That whole nice thing is a stereotype that is exceedingly true.

But not universal, as I can attest by the losers that were my aunt and uncle, who were both bad enough as to be not allowed over the bridge to the states.

And since Trump started his idiotic trade war numerous businesses here have closed, and I can virtually guarantee it’s in large part of the noble boycott of shopping and dinning nice, but elbows up Canadians have waged against us.

The great Andrew Weissmann put it succinctly in a post that he dropped as trade talks broke down and Canada walked away from negotiations:

Better than I could say in much fewer words.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen in the short, medium, or long term. Not only do I support the Canadian boycott, but I fully understand the large-scale and dramatic shifts they are making in their economy given how deeply Trump has fractured our economic relationship.

But, I hope it’s just economic. And from what I read from Canadian subscribers and followers here, I think most Canadians get it — they know the growing majority of Americans think this is crazy. Even in this red district, I can guarantee you that most Trump supporters here don’t support this needless war with our friend and neighbor.

I hope it gets better.

But, all I can say, speaking for most is I’m sorry.

And I don’t even say it with a good natured Canadian accent on the sorry.

As a product of both countries, I truly hope we can get back to where we once were.

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