I didn't recognize Armbruster at first. In fact, all I could see was what looked like an old World War II air raid warden's helmet sticking up over a pile of sandbags in front of his house.

But it was Armbruster all right, and he was scanning the skies through a pair of binoculars.

"A little early for bird watching, isn't it?" I asked, hoping that might lead to an explanation.

"Spare me the lame humor," Armbruster sighed. "This is no laughing matter."

He'd turned to face me as he spoke and that's when I saw the large button pinned to his coat. It was a red maple leaf on a white background crossed with a black bar sinister.

"Is that what I think it is?" I asked. "Have you declared war on Canada?"

"It's not up to me to declare war on anyone," Armbruster huffed. "That's a right reserved for our commander-in-chief, and I would add that I think he's doing a rather good job of it, despite the blame-America crowd."

"Armbruster," I said, "forgive me for changing the subject, but a person who didn't know you better might think you're losing it, what with the sandbags and the steel helmet."

"Perhaps so," my neighbor replied, his voice heavy with indulgence, "but I'll take my chances over yours when the missiles start coming in."

"Missiles?" I said. "What missiles?"

"I'll tell you what missiles," Armbruster snapped. "North Korean missiles, al-Qaida missiles, Chinese missiles. What difference does it make where they come from? The point is, we could be sitting ducks thanks to those spineless Socialists to our north."

"You're talking about our good neighbors the Canadians, I take it."

"Back-stabbers is more like it," Armbruster snapped.

"But what have they done to get you so upset?" I asked.

"It's what they haven't done," Armbruster said. "They have backed out on their agreement to be part of our missile defense system. They've left a chink in our armor. All these years we've been worrying about the threat of Castro's Cuba being only 90 miles from Florida, when we've got a worse danger camped right on the border."

"You really think Canada poses a threat to the United States?" I asked.

"How else would you describe a country that lets homosexuals marry one another, gives unemployed lay-abouts free health care, and tries to smuggle sick cows into the States? And don't forget they're harboring an entire province of Frenchmen up there. What would you call it?"

"I never quite thought of it in those terms," I said.

"Well, you'd better start thinking that way," he said, "because once we complete our missile defense system you can bet they'll be coming around begging us to protect them."

"Maybe you're right," Armbruster," I said, "but we've already spent billions on that system and it's nowhere near being operational. In fact, it's failed just about every test we've put it to, even when we've programmed its targets. Maybe the Canadians think it's a poor investment, one they don't need to make."

"Poppycock," Armbruster snapped. "They'll wish they had their own missile defense system when the bombs start falling."

"What makes you think the terrorists would target Canada?" I asked. "It's us that half the world is ticked off at, not Canada."

"Who said anything about terrorists?" Armbruster replied. "I'm saying we might have to give those backsliders a dose of reality; remind them who's calling the shots, so to speak, in this hemisphere."

"You can't be serious," I said. "You think we'd attack Canada over something like this?"

Armbruster paused and lowered his voice. "I would just remind you," he said, "of what our president told those European cowards when he declared war on terrorism: 'You're either for us or against us.' Your Canadians might want to keep that in mind."

Then he disappeared behind his sandbags.

Rossie is associate editor of the Press & Sun-Bulletin.

© 2005 Binghamton Press & Sun-Bulletin

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