I'm Headed For Dayton And I'm Actually Happy About It

I'm on my way to beautiful downtown Dayton, Ohio. Dayton may not come to mind when

thinking about exciting places to visit. Their visitor's bureau calls the city the birthplace of aviation, because it was home to the Wright Brother's bicycle shop, but even Wilbur and Orville decided that North Carolina seemed like a better place to go flying.

The founding fathers of the city didn't name the river that flows through town the Dayton River. For some reason, it's the Miami River. Somehow, I don't expect to see too many beach bunnies sunning themselves along its shores in March. Perhaps they just wanted to feel a kinship with Florida during those long, cold Ohio winters.

I'll have to be on good behavior in Dayton. I won't be able to make any comments about the noxious substance that often appear on my plates at banquets. In their wisdom, Ohio legislators banned making disparaging remarks about produce several years ago. As a result, George Bush Senior and I cannot let our feelings about broccoli become a topic of conversation in Ohio.

Still, I'm excited about going to Dayton, because it is also home to an event honoring the woman who made it possible for people like me to have careers. This week, the University of Dayton hosts the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop. Erma spent decades writing about the humor in day to day life, before her untimely passing. Just about everyone in this business points to her as an inspiration.

Those who don't haven't learned where to give credit when it's due. No one did more for humor writing than Erma.

One of the greatest honors in my career has been the invitation two years ago to join the faculty the Workshop, something that no other Canadian writer can lay claim to.

The Workshop gives me a chance to thank Erma's widower Bill, their daughter Betsy, and sons Andrew and Matt for sharing her with the rest of us for so many years. Betsy, Andrew and Matt can probably sympathize with my sons for growing up with people reading about their exploits in a weekly newspaper column. As my son Brad says, "I'll probably discuss it with a therapist at some future date."

This year I will be presenting one of the keynote speeches, along with another person who prefers this type of work to serious writing, Pulitzer Prize winning columnist, Dave Barry. Actually, I don't think either of us are capable of serious writing. It will be fun getting the chance to work with Dave. I owe him a drink or twelve because he wrote one of the cover comments for my new book, I Think I'm Having One Of Those Decades. The book will be having its official launch at the Workshop.

Dave said, "Canada has given the United States many wonderful gifts: Beer. Hockey. That famous entertainer, whatshisname. Beer. The list goes on and on. And to this list we must add the name of Gordon Kirkland, a very funny writer who is able to find humor in just about anything, because the only alternative would be for him to get a real job. As a fellow class clown suffering from maturity impairment, I salute him."

If anyone knows about maturity impairment, it's Dave. OK, I'm pretty familiar with it, too.

This week also marks an event that might indicate that I have finally arrived in my own country. In many areas and in comedy in particular it seems that Canadians don't recognize their own until they become known somewhere else. That's one of the reasons that comedy is one of my country's biggest exports; falling just short of marijuana and same-sex marriage licenses.

For years, my column has run in more American papers than Canadian. I'm invited to speak and perform at numerous events in the United States, but few at home.

But that may be changing. The Canadian edition of Reader's Digest magazine hits the stands this week. Included this month is a feature article about me. Suddenly seven million Canadian readers will find out about me.

That should be a shock to their systems. Frankly, it's a bit of a shock to mine.I just wish Erma was still here to see it.