A narrator recalls a 1970s camp prank where new counselors sanded a stick to nowhere, then compares it to Trump's trade negotiations over digital taxes. Both were theater masking the real work: building trust across lines that actually matter.
When I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of summers at Camp Ardaban. It was on a little island off the shore of North Vancouver. When I was 17, I decided to join the staff. I chose sports director at the musical theatre camps because the campers there on those weeks never did any sports, so I could just goof off. On my first day on staff, some of the older teens that had been there previous years told me about the staff initiation ritual. It was called the Fairy Dance. Happens at midnight, on the last night, out on the dock, long after the campers are put to bed. Now, I'm not going to disclose much about what happens at the Fairy Dance, because I swore a lifetime oath on Stan, the ceremonial dead fish, and frankly, I've already said too much. But I will tell you that on that first day, when the older kids told us about the ritual, it came with a warning. Find a stick, sand it down so you couldn't possibly get a splinter. As smooth as you can. And it has to support your full weight. That's all they would say. We were terrified. We spent days sanding those things like little beaver apprentices, and then we showed up with our sticks on the dock on the last night at midnight and never used them. Stick was a decoy, a meaningless side quest to keep the newbies busy second-guessing, worrying about getting cut on slivers. It's kind of mean, actually, you know, but once you got through it You weren't the new kids anymore, and next year you got to warn the next batch of newbies about the stick. But while we were spending our days worrying and sanding those useless sticks, we also made friends. We bonded over the threat. Built trust. Complained about why the big kids would do this to us. 35 years later, some of those are the closest friends I still have. The kind who will actually show up when you need help. The US announced yesterday that they are pulling out of trade talks. This time it's about digital services tax or something. For years we've been showing up to these negotiations like responsible adults. We brought charts. We brought briefing papers. We brought Chrystia Freeland, for God's sakes, who could negotiate a peace accord between raccoons and trash bins. We wasted time sanding the stick because the older people said we'd have to, but Trump was never planning to use it. He just wanted to keep us busy. Focused. Distracted. He never wanted a better deal. He wanted a better headline. So now we're standing around with our beautifully sanded trade sticks going, "Wait, that was it?" And yeah, that was it. But while we were busy trying to smooth out a future with Trump, we were also hanging out with the other kids. The rich European kids. The nerdy British ones. The savvy Mexican ones. And if we're lucky, we learned to stop wasting time sanding down a stick. And discovered something better. New friends who'll actually show up when you need help.
Ten times Canada helped the U.S. with its wildfires, instead of whining about the smoke. 
