Makin' Bacon, Not Music...In Stratford

I was in quaint little Stratford, Ontario, last Friday. It's the home of the Stratford Festival, North America's largest celebration of the works of Bill Shakespeare. The town is filled with charming brick buildings, cafes and restaurants, a world class theatre, roaming thespians and Harleyed lesbians, and a really great chocolate store, or ten.

Note: the part about the Harleyed lesbians was purely a work of fiction. So as not to completely disappoint, I offer you this titillating tidbit: Peter Mansbridge has a home in Stratford.

Startford is a town that I respect for a multitude of reasons, but none more powerful than the fact that they haven't 'sold out'. When you drive into Stratford you're welcomed by a sign that divulges all of those who have shaped the town. There's the Lions Club, Kiwanis, Rotary, Scouts, and even the Independent Order Of Odd Fellows. They still refuse the dependent odd fellows access to the town...good for them, I say.

What I really love is that Stratford hasn't sold out to celebrity and erected a sign, statue or space needle in deference to their most famous son: the one, the only, the now globally accessible export....none other than Justin Bieber.

No siree, Bobert. Stratford thinks/knows that the world will be more impressed to know that Stratford is home to the Ontario Pork Congress. I'll admit, I was intrigued. As I wandered the streets of Stratford nibbling on my pea meal bacon sandwich, I saw not a single reference to the Biebs. Not one.

Note: the part about eating a pea meal bacon sandwich was purely a work of fiction. Everyone knows that lesbians hate pea meal bacon.