Some people think we’re too nostalgic, the poor souls like me who reminisce about the years growing up in a Canada. It’s a country we were proud of, for the most part, and we respected our political leaders — at least my parents did.

My home wasn’t unique in the philosophy that “You can’t complain about the government if you don’t cast a vote!”

We learned about Parliament, the democratic vote, MPs and MPPs, the Senate, majority and minority governments, provincial and territorial boundaries, from the Arctic tundra to the Rocky Mountains, from Sir John A. Macdonald to Tommy Douglas, Upper and Lower Canada, aboriginal leaders and trading pelts.

Our rich past weaved its way through our school during history, geography and even English literature. (We took Farley Mowat, too. If you haven’t heard of him, Google him.)

I remember making hand-written signs as a kid with my little brother, cheering on the Argos as they faced the Alouettes for the Grey Cup.

We had family in the Ottawa Valley, so inevitably a visit to the capital was in order. I still visit the Parliament buildings during any visit back.

My dad built us an ice rink in our yard. My brother played hockey and we occasionally got the treat of a chocolate or vanilla long john with a hot chocolate to sit and watch. My dad, his brothers and their buddies drank beer from stubby bottles.

We also went tobogganing in the winter. How my parents endured walking up that hill countless times, often with us in tow, I have no idea.

My grandma wore a Hudson’s Bay coat. She drank Crown Royal sometimes. My grandpa served in the Second World War. They both visited the Legion on occasion.

Holidays were meant to get together with family, have a laugh and visit.

Memories of growing up Canadian are in no way unique to my generation.

I remember going to school with Vietnamese children. When they arrived, some called them boat people. At that time I had no idea what that meant, only that there were new kids to play with. I did wonder why some of their traditions were different and why they would leave their own country. That always puzzled me as a kid. Why would anyone want to leave the country they were born in?

Now, in 2013, I am still bursting with pride to live in this country. Abortion is legal; marrying your same sex partner is also legal. We are allowed to peacefully protest without losing a limb. Women don’t have to be covered when seen in public, but if a woman wants to cover herself up, she can.

We still have a democratic government, granted, riddled with corruption as of late, but everyone of age, can still vote and have a say. We can ask questions. Many immigrants want to live here.

What does it mean to be a Canuck living in today’s Canada? Are we grateful for what we have? Should we be? Look around — often things look pretty bleak. Waiting times can be long for health care, jobs are often scarce. It seems everyday, a new skyscraper is built while more people take to the streets because they can no longer afford a roof over their head. We always seem to want more. Nothing ever seems to be enough. We’re told we must be “progressive” and “forward-thinking.”

I agree to a point, but I think not looking back is in some ways disrespectful. Things have moved on, but acknowledging how we got here is also very important.

Leaders from the past did some amazingly creative things to make this country great. They took risks, pushed back, and had the courage to stand up for something they believed in, at all costs. That’s to be admired and not forgotten.

As you wave your flag this weekend and take in some holiday time with your families, remember that people fought and died for your life to be free. Tell your kids.

Let’s continue to build a vibrant and productive Canada we can all be proud of, but also one that honours the grit and determination of people who received no glory, just the satisfaction of a better country for those of us who came after.

Happy Canada Day.

Shauna Rae is a London freelance writer. E-mail shauna_rae67@yahoo.ca