There are certain things in life you assume are permanent.
Death. Taxes. Traffic at the Canso Causeway. The fact that Tim Hortons will somehow be full when you’re already late for work.
And, apparently, the names of large bodies of water.
That last one may need some reconsideration.
Donald Trump, never one to shy away from a branding opportunity, famously decided the Gulf of Mexico would henceforth be known as the Gulf of America.
Because apparently “Mexico” was taking up too much real estate on the map.
Now, word has spread that Lake Ontario may be next.
That’s right. Lake Ontario – one of the Great Lakes, a body of water shared by Canada and the United States – could soon be known as Lake America.
At this rate, cartographers might want to stop printing maps altogether. By the time the ink dries, Trump may have renamed half the planet.
And what exactly happens to all the songs?
For generations, Canadians have been singing about Lake Ontario.
There’s the Tragically Hip’s “Bobcaygeon,” which famously references the lake. Gordon Lightfoot, naturally, had plenty to say about Canadian landscapes and waterways. And then there’s “Lake Ontario” by the Canadian indie rock band The Rural Alberta Advantage, whose title alone could soon become a historical artifact.
Imagine explaining that to your children 20 years from now.
“Back in my day, son, that was called Lake Ontario.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s in Ontario.”
“But why is it called Lake America now?”
“Well, apparently somebody really liked the word America.”
Maybe all those songs will have to be rewritten.
Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” could perhaps become “The Renaming of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” because nobody knows what the map is going to call Lake Ontario anymore.
Of course, there’s a practical side to all this.
Think about the paperwork.
Every fishing license, nautical chart, school textbook, tourism brochure, road sign, weather report and coffee mug featuring “Lake Ontario” would suddenly be outdated.
Some poor government intern somewhere would be assigned to replace the signs.
“Lake Ontario?”
“Yep.”
“Change it.”
“To?”
“Lake America.”
“Which America?”
“Just America.”
“Sir, that’s not going to cause any confusion at all.”
And what about Ontario?
Does Ontario itself get renamed?
Maybe “America North.”
Toronto could become “Trump City.”
Niagara Falls might become “The America Falls,” although technically the falls are shared by both countries, which could make that awkward.
Ottawa?
Probably “Washington Jr.”
At this point, nothing seems impossible.
And that brings us to the question nobody is asking – but absolutely should be:
If lakes and gulfs are fair game, where does this end?
Will the Atlantic Ocean become the “Atlantic American Ocean”?
Will the Pacific become the “Trumpific”?
Will Mount Everest be renamed “Mount Freedom”?
Perhaps the St. Lawrence River becomes the “St. Donald River,” although Canadians might object to having to say that every time they give directions.
And then there are the animals.
Surely the Canadian goose must be getting nervous.
The Canadian goose has spent centuries peacefully wandering around North America, minding its own business, stealing pieces of bread from unsuspecting children and blocking traffic in parking lots.
But if national identity is suddenly something that can be changed with a Sharpie, the goose may be next.
Forget Canadian geese.
I give you: Donald’s Ducks.
It practically writes itself.
They’re loud.
They’re aggressive.
They travel in large groups.
They make an enormous mess.
And once they decide they’re going somewhere, absolutely nobody can convince them otherwise.
Actually, maybe Trump has a point.
Perhaps Donald’s Ducks is more accurate than we realize.
Still, there is something oddly comforting about knowing that geography can apparently now be treated like a corporate rebranding exercise.
New name. New logo. Same water.
Perhaps that’s the lesson here.
You can rename the Gulf of Mexico.
You can propose renaming Lake Ontario.
You can change the signs, update the maps and rewrite the brochures.
But you can’t change where the water actually is.
Lake Ontario will still sit where Lake Ontario has always sat.
And somewhere along its shoreline, someone will still be listening to a Tragically Hip song, looking across the lake and calling it by the name their parents, grandparents and generations before them used.
Lake Ontario.
At least until the next executive order.
And if that day comes, I suppose we’ll just have to welcome our new neighbours to Lake America.
Just watch your step around Donald’s Ducks.