Our plucky Olympic neighbors worth talking aboot, eh?

When U.S. skier Bode Miller wins a bronze, snowboarder Seth Wescott strikes gold and the Winter Olympics medal count shows the United States atop the list, I suppose I should start chanting, "U. S. A! U. S. A!"

But my eyes immediately dart down a few pegs to look for Canada.

It's certainly emotional when a grateful American athlete, such as Ladies' Moguls champ Hannah Kearney, tears up on the medal stand as the "Star-Spangled Banner" is played. But it's even cooler when an ecstatic Alexandre Bilodeau pulls a last-second upset to win Canada's first gold medal in the Men's Moguls.

This admission probably will land me on Homeland Security's "Do Not Fly" list, but aesthetically speaking, I prefer the Canadian national anthem to our own. Our "Star-Spangled Banner" features "bombs bursting in air," "rockets' red glare" and "ramparts." It's an old drinking song converted into a jingoistic boast. Yet, it really just expresses our concern that we might surrender on the first night of fighting.

"O, Canada," on the other hand, is a delightful, nonthreatening ditty that modestly expresses pride in the nation while simply letting others know that the populace will "stand on guard" for Canada.

Noted anthem singer Wayne Messmer told me once that most people tend to like "O, Canada" better than our anthem, which, unless you are blessed with the musical range of a Wayne Messmer, is almost unsingable.

I think lots of Americans are rooting for Canada during these Olympics. It's hard to find a harsh word about Vancouver's Olympic effort. We accept the death of a luger as an accident and not bad design. If France had no snow for the Winter Games, we'd mock. But we all feel bad that today's forecast for Vancouver is about the same as the one for New Orleans.

While Americans acknowledge that the Summer Olympics spectacle in Beijing in 2008 set an unattainable standard for future Olympics, we cheered Canada's plucky effort. When the speeches seemed long and maybe even a little too pro-Canadian, we accepted them.

When technical difficulties during the climactic torch-lighting ceremony left a flame-wielding Wayne Gretzky standing awkwardly at the ready, we politely ignored the delay as if we were proud parents patiently waiting for the turkey to make its appearance at a grade-school production of "The First Thanksgiving."

If that happened in the U.S., our enemies would cheer. If such a blemish popped up during a ceremony in Japan, late-night comedians would be quick with a Toyota joke and a smirk. No one smirks at Canada.

What's not to like about our neighbor to the north?

Canada has given us a special kind of bacon, John Candy, a whiskey that goes well with Coke, Michael J. Fox, doughnuts from Tim Hortons, Neil Young, Dudley Do-Right and a professional football Hall of Fame with room for diminutive ex-Bear Doug Flutie and his little brother, Darren.

The Canadian Club of Chicago has been around since World War II. Members go see Canadian hockey teams take on our Blackhawks. They get together for Labatts. They host a Thanksgiving dinner in October. And in the Winter 2010 newsletter, they boast a bit about how Canadians such as Seth Rogen, Avril Lavigne or William Shatner are so popular. I fear that club may be becoming too American as it recently voted to change its name to the Canada-U.S. Business Council. But we like Canadians.

So Canada, we'll stand on guard and continue to root for you. Right up until that moment when the U.S. women's hockey team upsets Canada to win the gold.