What the EU meant to me growing up …

Two recollections — firstly about an experience I had when living in England, and secondly some impressions of the European Union as a child …

When I was growing up in County Armagh, England seemed like the promised land.

From TV shows, radio and magazines, it seemed more peaceful, more influential, more liberal, more stylish, more cultured, more forward thinking, and more full of opportunity than the troubled Northern Ireland I saw around me.

It lured me to it. As a UK resident ( Northern Ireland is part of the UK), I could attend university anywhere in the UK. So when the time came, I left Northern Ireland, for England as an 18 year old.

My first year at university in Manchester was a culture shock. It seemed amazing that no one was searched going into a mall. People could talk openly about their religion. The buildings were tall, streets wide, the cities busy.

Students could concentrate on whatever their interest … sport, or art, or engineering, rather than concern themselves about the company they kept or the part of the city they were in.

I loved Manchester. Then I worked for a year in East Anglia as an intern, and loved it too. I grew. My accent became a little clearer, my English friends and my girlfriend helped make me feel at home.

After graduating I lived and worked in the East of London. We used to love taking the train into the city, walking in the parks, around parliament, meeting friends at the Irish bars near Soho — ribbing each other as our regional rugby teams competed in the five nations. We took in a game at White Heart Lane, or Upton Park.

Then one day, not long after Irish terrorists bombed Canary Wharf, a drunk Londoner made a scene when he heard my accent on the tube. The train wasn’t very full, but I felt embarrassed, and deflated all at once.

He cursed at me. He cursed all the Irish. He blamed me for the bomb.

Most of my life had been lived under the spectre of terrorism. I had such confused feelings about Northern Ireland, because I was so fed up with troubles, yet it was where I came from.

I left there to escape the troubles.

Yet, that day, on the tube, the troubles came back. It was clear I hadn’t really escaped them at all.

Most of my life in England I was ( I hope playfully ) reminded that I was Irish — through jokes, through stories about Ireland that people would tell me, or through questions they’d ask.

The drunk English man who called me out, cursing and shaming me on a half filled tube train returned in my memories when a similar thing happened in this video recently, related to Brexit.

Canary Wharf, and that moment on the tube drew my time in England to an end. I knew I had to leave.

Within a year, I was choosing between living in Canada or New Zealand.

When I was a little boy on road trips to Dublin, or Donegal from Belfast, we would be searched at the border. Even me - a child under 10 years old — I’d be patted down. My bag of toys would be searched. I’d watch anxiously as a soldier rummaged through it, sure he would take my toys.

The hubcaps on the car were removed, just in case we hid something in there.

I have clear memories of that.

But I remember clearly too — many of the roads in the South of Ireland were construction projects funded by the EU.

I used to be in awe of the beautiful circle of stars on the logo on the road signs. Proud and amazed that we were good enough, equal enough to be part of the European Community.

I’d ask my dad and brothers to explain it to me over and over again. I’d study the atlas, learning where the 12 star countries were.

I’ll always remember what it meant to feel included in something bigger than the troubles in Northern Ireland. I’ll always be proud of the European circle of stars on my Irish passport ( my parents carried Irish passports — my mom’s family had roots in Dublin ).

I saw first hand how the EU improved my society, and inspired me.

Yet the Brexit politicians in the UK talked about the EU as a failed project.

But how can it have failed when a little boy grew up in basically a war zone, understanding that he belonged to a community bigger than the bickering sides of a divide.

A community spanning a range of cultures, geographies, languages and ambitions, with a goal to set the same high standards for everyone within it.

How can it have failed when a child knew he traveled, on the very roads it built.

It isn’t a failed project, though it’s far from a perfect one.

I don’t know how the story will end for England, or Northern Ireland, or me :) I hope happily. But I am proud to be Canadian, and as an Irish passport holder too, I’m proud to still be part of the European Union.

When I experienced first hand how it felt to be singled out on the tube, blamed because of where I grew up, I realized that I had options.

I hope Canada and Europe and the wider world keeps providing options for people who wish to be part of ambitious, inclusive communities.