Rule Britannia and all that patriotic stuff. Lucky us, eh?

Having English as our mother tongue was not a conscious choice, or a wise decision. While biding time in our mother’s womb, we weren’t given a sheet and the opportunity to select a preferred language.

Not a coincidence. Just plain old dumb luck. And yes, perhaps I am overthinking this.

Not a combination of circumstances, and not wise thinking. We are so lucky that English kind of rules.

Think about how much easier our lives are because our mother tongue has become the internationally accepted “go-to” means of communication. Not Esperanto, not Spanish, not Mandarin, not Russian and not Arabic.

As a pretentious British boss of mine said many years ago when I asked him if I should learn German while working in Germany, “Ross, I have found that around the world, one can get on with two languages: English, and loud English.”

What a snobby attitude, perhaps harking back to the long-ago days of colonizing by a few countries.

Happily, we don’t have masculine and feminine, like in French and Spanish (and other languages).

Of course, there are countless English dialects and accents around the world. How does a Scotsman understand a Texan or an Aussie? The miracle of miracles. Really, and when two people get conversationally wound up after a couple of alcoholic beverages in the pub, the accents really take on lives of their own.

But in airports, in academia, and in the world of medicine, English has for some reason become the dominant and default language.

Speaking of medical matters, it is indeed a challenge even for first language English speakers to navigate the system. I am a bit hard of hearing, and even that presents challenges when keeping the appointment schedule up to date, and during hospital and clinic visits. How do our wonderful newer Canadians manage?

Even the Olympic Games are traditionally signed in three languages. French, English and the host country tongue. I know, some years it is more complicated than that.

Permit me to relate a real life vignette that effectively says what I am trying to say. In our seven person apartment in the Olympic Village in Munich in 1972, we hailed from seven different countries. Some of us had worked together a lot, and played together a lot in the Hofbrauhaus near Marienplatz.

As I bid “Auf wiedersehen” to Hans Peter Reber from Ostermundigen, I said, “It’s been a great three months, but I wish we had spoken more German, and not English most of the time. I really wanted to learn German.” He replied, ”Herr Robinson, you wanted to learn German. I have to learn English.” Sort of says it all.

Laughter has no foreign accent, and all that.

Rambling off course now, one of my favourite childhood stories comes from a Quebec City vacation in 1955.

I was just a wee lad, and the Robinson family were enjoying the mandatory caleche ride with an absolutely authentic quebecois carriage driver. We were probably not understanding more than a few words of his thickly accented French.

After a few minutes, we stopped to give the horse a break. On the nearby sidewalk, a lady called out to her dog (chien). She called him, “Viens ici, Pierre.” The dog came to her, wagging his tail. Robinson family legend has it I turned to my dad (mon pere) and said, “Wow, even the dogs in Quebec speak French, too.”

True or not, it’s been a great family story over the years.

Canada is such a unique and great country, for so many reasons. Methinks the bilingual aspect, and our ability to somehow get along, is fabulous.

Downtown this summer, when someone speaks to you in a foreign language, perhaps asking where the public washrooms are, initiate your response with a friendly smile.

Yes, we are so lucky to have English as our mother tongue.

Be kind. Soit gentil.