Who’s on first?

I’ve dealt with so many First World problems this week. But all of those issues make me feel grateful for what I have. My lawn is overgrown— but I have a lawn, weeds and all. My new pool deck isn’t finished and it’s almost pool season. I have a pool, a deck and a pool season. The rails on my front porch need to be replaced. I have a front porch. The drip pans on my electric range haven’t been delivered yet. I have a stove. I have electricity. I have a credit card, a computer and the wherewithal to order replacement drip pans, and a vehicle to drive to the pick-up location when the drip pans arrive. I’m disappointed I can’t be sure when I’ll be able to go on a vacation. I’m semi-retired. I can afford to go on a vacation. When I plan a vacation I’m not terribly concerned about the cost. I’m not bragging. I’m not looking for anyone’s pity or scorn. I’m just saying, “I have First World Problems. Essentially, I don’t have problems.”

When I was a kid, I walked half a kilometre to the Main Street in our community, then crossed the road and waited for a Grey Coach bus to take me to school. I didn’t have to walk uphill, both ways, in any kind of weather. At the end of the school day the same bus was at the curb near the school and I hopped on for the ride home. My mother and father knew I was going to be home at the end of a day of learning. My mother and father probably didn’t worry about whether or not I were going to be coming home. My parents were probably fairly certain I’d return home in the same physical and mental state as when I left—not including minor scrapes, a bit of school yard dirt and maybe a bit of hurt because someone called me freckle-face. My parents’ biggest worry would have been whether or not I ate all of my packed lunch and if I’d paid attention in class. Perhaps, Mom and Dad might have been concerned about me losing my milk money or forgetting to bring my library books or if I wore my galoshes at recess or broke my Thermos or left my schoolbag on the bus. When our children (LOML’s and mine) became school-aged, our biggest worry was if they were fitting in socially or did they eat all of their lunch or if they were kind in the school yard. Sometimes, as a big treat and surprise, LOML or I would pick the kiddies up after school and take them for a treat. Once in a while we received notes from school administrators or classroom teachers about upcoming report card days or school day trips or special activities or Friday being pizza day, “please send your money and order”. As concerned as we were about our children, we were always fairly certain they’d be home at the end of the day and they’d be physically—and mentally— as healthy as they’d been when they left in the morning. We were First World Parents.Even though the terms First World or Second World or Third World have become outmoded descriptors, it suits me to say Canada has been deemed to be a First World country. I’m not surprised. For the most part, as a nation, we’ve ticked all of the boxes. The World Class Designation Team dropped by one day, gave us the once-over and said, “First World, through and through.” Of course, they didn’t look everywhere and they certainly didn’t have ground penetrating radar back in the day, nor could they have know of our dirty little secret. Indeed, a lot of us didn’t know. Those secrets were hidden away. Most of us only heard “the good” about residential schools, not that there was anything good about them. From the street, Canada looked pretty decent. We had a first class healthcare system. We had excellent public schools. We had a high life expectancy. We had a high standard of living, generally speaking. Our literacy rate was high. We had a fairly high, per capita, gross domestic product. When our children were born they were expected to live long, prosperous, healthy, enjoyable lives. We had access to clean water. We had access to good, healthy food. We had access to safe, affordable, accessible housing. And then?

Well, and then we learned all of what we were taking for granted and bragging about didn’t apply to everyone in our FWC. We have a certain smell about us. We reek of racism. The lies have been unravelling and the truth is being, quite literally, unearthed. As a “nation” the time has come to actually earn our reputation as a First World country. It’s time to stop being pious hypocrites and open our minds and hearts. Let’s stop the blah blah. Let’s start listening and making it right. You know what I’m talking about.