It's Thanksgiving Day in Canada, and in this crazy screwed up world we do have a lot of things to be thankful for. We're a big, beautiful, still relatively young country. At a time when the hard right-wing is on the march, and would be dictators are popping up like mushrooms, we're governed by a leader who, whatever else you might think about him, is decent, polite, and very Canadian. And most of us can be grateful, that in a world being slowly poisoned by bigotry, or convulsed by xenophobia, we're still celebrating diversity and living together in relative harmony. But that might be changing, in the worst possible way.
I was relaxing in the little park next to the marine police station, on the last day of a long sweltering weekend, when Callum came running up with the shocking news. Mohammed bin Salman aka MBS, the perfumed crown prince of the barbaric Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, had declared war on Canada for not showing him enough respect. And not only was he now trying to bully us into submission. Saudi Arabia lashed out at Canada on Monday for criticizing the recent arrests of Saudi rights activists, and threatened to break off trade with other Western countries if they too spoke out about political repression in the kingdom. Some of his agitated supporters appeared to be threatening a 911-style attack on MY neighbourhood !!!!!!
I've been trying to get away from the heat, and the crowds on the waterfront where I live, by heading out to the quietest and coolest part of the lake. But while that works relatively well, there is something else I can't get away from no matter how far I go, or how hard I try. And that's the stench of the Canadian political scene.
Well I guess draining the life blood out of the CBC wasn't a quick enough death for Stephen Harper. Now he wants to cut off its head. Even if it makes Heritage Minister James Moore look like a liar.
Moore said in response to a question from Liberal MP Pablo Rodriguez on April 29 that the government would not be cutting the CBC. But then as I've pointed out before, like all the other Con sheeple, Moore is just his monster's voice. I don't know why any normal person would want to tear down a national institution, instead of building it up and making us proud of it. But I know why Stephen Harper hates it with a passion. Because with all its successes and failures it's a mirror of who we are...and so very CANADIAN. And Harper hates Canada and its values so much he won't be satisfied, as The Amazing GritGirl has pointed out , until the CBC looks and sounds like this...
I on the other hand won't be satisfied until the foul Canada-hating Con channel goes off the air for good. Won't that be the best show EVER? Defeat them, crush them, turn them off....
I thought that after Pride Day I'd had my fill of large crowds. But this is what my hood looked like this afternoon. And it was GREAT.
Thousands of Canadians flocking down to the waterfront to celebrate Canada Day.
Checking out the sights ....and each other.....on one of the most beautiful days of the summer so far.
Having their pictures taken with these two guys.
Wishing they owned this yacht ...even if they couldn't go anywhere because they couldn't afford the gas bills.
Or just whooping it up. Like other Canadians. And the future dog guide from the nearby Pet Centre.
And who can blame him?
I could say a lot about Canada.
I could say that we need to work harder to make this country even better. And to come to terms with who we really are. Realize that being a peaceful, tolerant country, in a world ripped apart by hatred and violence is not just more than good enough. It's Canada's greatest glory.
I could say that we need to do more to fight poverty, racism, sexism, and homophobia, and help bullied kids in our schools. Because every time I see a homeless person sleeping on a park bench...or hear that another native kid has committed suicide...I feel that we're not as great as the country we could be.
I could say that we desperately need to see a lot more women in our Parliament. And that having the best medicare and childcare system is far more important than having the best army in the world.
I could say that we need to treasure our REAL Canadian values a lot more, and realize that Stephen Harper and his rotten Republican Cons are trying to destroy them...replace them with American ones. And turn us into a jungle.
I could say all that and more. And I will because smugness is death. But not today.
Today is a day to wonder how amazingly lucky I am to live in this big beautiful country that is still young enough to know that the best years of its history are still to be written.
Young enough to dream that we can do ANYTHING...and be a force for good in a bleak world. Just by being better Canadians. In our own quiet way.
How proud I am to be one myself. These days it may not the best country in the world. It's been treading water for far too long. But it's still pretty damn good, and it's young enough to be even better. And hope of being the best. So from me, Sébastien , Kerouac....and his new pal the future dog guide from the Pet Centre. Happy Canada Day everyone !!!!
I see the the Bouchard-Taylor Commission has finally released its report. And although the Commission has been a debacle right from the start, I think the final product is pretty good. Which is a relief. Because I was really worried when I saw a leaked version of the report, and it seemed to suggest that the solution to the nonexistent problem...was that the first white people to live in Quebec should call themselves Québécois of French Canadian origin instead of just Québécois. And I knew that some in the province were already comparing that to the moronic sayings of The King of Kings..... Elvis Gratton.
He's a wellknown movie and television character in Quebec. A comic caricature of a vulgar, ignorant, federalist French Canadian who dreams of being a big shot Elvis impersonator.
In short.... the kind of Québécois who makes the rest of the old stock Frenchies shudder.
Especially when in a famous scene he is on a plane with his wife. And a Frenchman from France asks them if they are Canadian.
Here's the scene with my translation underneath...
PASSENGER: Are you Canadians ? You have the accent... ELVIS: Me I'm a Canadian Québécois.... a French French Canadian....an American of the French North...a francophone Québécois Canadian....a Québécois of French Canadian French expression. We are the Canadian American francophones of North America...the FrancoQuébécois.... WIFE: We are the Franco Canadians of Quebec, the Québécois Canadians. That's it....
You see what I mean? Throw Elvis into this identity question and it could be DEVASTATING.
But now I'm not worried anymore. As one of my separatist friends said today: "I'd much rather be a Québécois of French Canadian background, than an old stock Québécois." And he wasn't the only one.
Many English Canadians believe that Quebecers are racists. But I should have known better. How lucky I am to belong to the great French Nation in Canada. Still the most progressive province in the country.
How proud I am to be a Québécois of half Scottish from Scotland....half English from England origin ...of anglophone AND francophone expression... AND a proud Canadian.
Only in Canada eh? Or Belgium... Oh yeah. Quebec is moving on.
And Elvis has left the building... ----------------------------------------------------------- P.S. Guess where I'm going this weekend? I leave you with this great old song by Robert Charlebois... to help explain how far we've come. And why I love the place and the habitants so much...
Oh sure. Endings are sometimes rough. But new beginnings are WONDERFUL. Have a great weekend everyone !!
The other day I was awoken by the tapping sound of freezing rain beating up against the window. And as I always do when I hear it, I couldn't help but think of La TempêtedeVerglas or The Great Ice Storm. Has it really been ten years? I was living in the McGill University ghetto in the heart of Montreal. There had just been a big snow storm. Many of the streets hadn't been cleared. Then the freezing rain started.
By the time it was over there was so much ice on the sidewalks they had to use jackhammers to clear them. And then the lights went out...
Outside it was brutally cold. At a convenience store on Parc Avenue they were selling candles by candlelight for five bucks each. At night the dark streets of the ghetto were deserted.... except for police cruisers slowly going by with all their lights flashing to let people know they were out there.
My new boyfriend Sébastien was away in Europe. Most of my friends had left town for the holidays. Or moved in with relatives who still had power. My friend Billy who lived next door stuck it out for a few days then moved to a temporary shelter in Place Ville Marie. But I had a pup called Kerouac. So I stayed put. For some mysterious reason the old apartment building still had hot water...and the phone worked. After a few days when the temperature inside fell to 10 degrees I retreated to the bedroom.....filled the tub in the adjoining washroom... and slept under a mountain of duvets....with Kerouac as a hot water bottle. When the stuff in the fridge went bad I ordered pizza or chicken. Some places still delivered. I listened to the news on a small transistor radio. When the blackout first happened and I tried it there was just eery static...all you could hear were American stations fading in and out.
And then out of the void .... loud and clear and Canadian.... came the good old CBC.
Not just bringing the latest grim news from the Great War on Darkness. How the pylons were collapsing ...how an army of hydro workers was out there battling desperately to keep Montreal from being plunged into total gloom.
But also throwing the airwaves open to people from different parts of the city...so they could describe what was happening to them...and how they were coping.
There was an urgency to our communication and an immediacy I have never felt before or since. We were one big telephone party line - all talking directly to each other.
People needed to hear from others... because so many were frightened. There was a feeling that ANYTHING could happen. And even when the lights went on again in downtown Montreal everyone feared that they could go off at any time. No one dared put on one extra light or appliance.
And the images on tv were APOCALYPTIC.
The Triangle of Darkness. Hydro workers using helicopters to smash ice on pylons. Convoys of army trucks heading down from Valcartier. Disoriented old people in crowded shelters. Thousand of dead pigs and cows being bulldozed into mass graves.
I think I read somewhere that sixty per cent of the people who lived through that storm were traumatized to some degree by it. Some say the sight of freezing rain still makes them anxious. For me it was the most awesome story I've ever been caught up in. It was the moment I realized how FRAGILE our juiced up society really is. How you could end up as a refugee in your own city. But also how tough the people of my new country were. I was proud of my province. It was a heroic effort. I liked the way Canadians helped each other. I'm glad I was there. But I also have to admit that at the time there was something really disturbing...even scary... about it. A feeling that EVERYTHING was coming undone. That a natural catastrophe was on the brink of becoming an urban apocalypse.
Something I can't really explain in words. Not even to Sébastien. It's the only thing I'll NEVER be able to share with him. Because when it comes to the Great Ice Storm. Or La TempêtedeVerglas. You really DID have to be there.
P.S. Kerouac now prefers to sleep in MY bed rather than his. And I let him. I figure the way he kept me warm during those freezing nights when he was a pup.
Now he's an old dog.... it's time to return the favour.
I want to go back to bed. It was so cold last night the top of the Big Dick froze and fell off. And can you BELIEVE those icebergs?
Just like sometimes I can't face the morning rush hour.
It's just TOO brutal. If winter doesn't get you.... the sausage dog will. And then there's the DANGEROUS state of our roads.
I KNOW there are no cars...and it's DEFINITELY not as cold as Saskatchewan. As a Montrealer I do think Sean has a point. But dude here's the problem ..... the neighbourhood drunk at the top of the picture has been reduced to crawling on all fours over the icy bridge. He thinks it's pretty damm cold. And if you disagree with him...or try to help him...he punches you. So nobody does. Oh yeah.Sometimes I miss summer so much...
I wish I didn't live here.
Why can't I dwell in a land of palm trees and balmy breezes? Instead of this frozen hell. But then.... it gets soooooo cold.... the canal freezes...
So Sébastien and I can skate on it.
Like we used to do on Beaver Lake.
Or play hockey... with the other guys.
While the little guys wait their turn. And the snow keeps coming down. Then suddenly I don't want to live in ANY other country in the world. Can you believe it ? Am I LOSING my mind? Winter in Canada? No problem. Bring it on... .......................................................................... P.S. Sean...I'm afraid I've got BAD news for you. Temperatures here are supposed to rise into the double digits ...or almost... next week. So brace yourself for more breathless CBC stories. Extra!!!! Extra !!!!!
