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150
Well, now that Canada Day has passed, I’ll confess I was having difficulty with the whole “Rah, rah, Canada is 150 years old” thing. For the first time, in all of the years I can recollect, I wasn’t on board with the Canada Day celebrations. I would have been the first kid to beg my mom for sparklers and fireworks. I would have been the eager little kid gathering twigs and kindling for the bonfire. I would have been the kid marking the kitchen calendar so no one would forget Dominion Day. This year, I thought I was just being cranky because Canada Day always means guests, and “guests” means extra everything. But I really felt like something wasn’t right. I felt like a hypocrite. I live in a great place, but my European ancestors didn’t land and create a nation in a land where a nation had never existed. Nope, they arrived at a place that was already a home. And I don’t need to get into all of the who did what, with which and to whom. Europeans built a country on top of a homeland. My major in university was Canadian Studies. When I pointed out the imbalance of the content in our reading materials, a teaching assistant told me I “thought too hard”. I spent three years thinking too hard, I guess. The TA and I locked horns many times over my opinions. And then? Well, and then I finished the program, wrote my thesis about how difficult it was for me to be a textbook Canadian and how simple it seemed for others. In spite of my perspective, I managed to do very well. And then?
Well, and then I realized the older I got, the less I seemed to know about this land and its first people, especially when many people talk about Canada as a young nation when, really, it isn’t. We hear talk about reconciliation, but I don’t see it happening very fast. I can’t help wondering, “how difficult can it be to put the money where the mouth is?” Why do we seem to be so “okay” with the blatant mistreatment of the people who were here first? The weird thing is, I almost wrote “our” First Nations people—as if they were a commodity or a chattel—that’s a textbook approach, for sure. I wondered why we get excited about the birthday of “Canada” when what we’re really celebrating is the Confederation of the Nation? Recently, over ciders and beers, I’ve discussed my issue with a couple of friends, and later with my family. Some understood my dilemma, others told me to stop obsessing and enjoy the fun. Me, a Canadian Studies graduate, I couldn’t get my head around Canada Day this year. Passed the course and failed the instructions.
And then? Well, and then LOML and 21 of his ukulele-playing friends decided to be involved in Wellington’s Canada Day Celebrations. Our youngest son came home with his fiancée and our grandfriend for the Canada Day weekend. I didn’t want to harsh their Canada Day mellow so, decided to keep my confederation bother to myself and enjoy the company of family and friends. On Saturday, I found myself standing on Main Street Wellington watching folks sing, dance, shout and wave their flags. At 10:30 in the morning, I wasn’t in the mood for the festivities. And then? Well, and then my grandfriend started singing, and dancing, along with the kids sitting on the curbs. She was enthusiastic for the country, no exclusions. And then I realized, we need to make it an inclusive country. We need to make it better for everyone who makes this land their choice. We need to insist that school curriculum includes a balance of the First Nations story and of the immigrants story. And then?
And then? And, then we need to insist our elected officials do the right thing, in concert with all the First Nations, to provide easy access to health care, education, decent housing, transportation, living incomes, good jobs and mental health care. And then? When we’ve done it right, let’s celebrate that accomplishment. Hope you had a good time this weekend past. And remember, “We do not inherit the land from the ancestors, we borrow it from our children.”
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