Canada Daze

         With this being the Canada Day long weekend (except for those of us too slow or too far down the corporate ladder rungs to have booked the Friday off) it is time to reflect on what it is to be Canadian. This is easier said than done considering Canada is comprised of people so diverse; we barely understand each other, even when we’re all talking English.  Just picture a conversation between a Quebecois English as a Second Language student and a resident of Tops’l, Newfoundland, my dear bride’s birthplace (and not the dark, fiery bowels of Hades, as I have previously alluded.) Newfoundlander;  “So where y’ to, b’y?”
French-Canadian ESL student; “Uhhhhhh...”
Both of these people are as Canadian as beaver-tail-on-a-stick with a maple syrup dip and yet they are so different.
Or, take, for example, the modern day Inuit person, balanced precariously between their old ways and the new. Consider the Inuit family out shopping at the Wal-Mart in Tuktoyaktuk for an ice floe for Grandma’s retirement. They understand that clinging to the traditional way of life is great but when your dogsled has a flat or whatever, to be able to call for help with a satellite cell phone is kind of cool, too. How different is that Inuit person’s life experiences from that of the sturdy Saskatchewan farmer surprised by a flood in a province as flat as a map of itself? A glass of water spilled by a careless child would spread across the entire province and the poor farmer is shocked when his cattle doing the backstroke in the spring storms.
And yet, these too are Canadians, just as much as an Arrapaho/European pirate in Flin Flon, Manitoba (known as the “Arr Metis”), or a hermitically sealed trapper in the Yukon avoiding both humanity and PETA activists, (you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a PETA activist), even, yes I know, it’s tough for me to admit too, the metro-sexual man-about-town in Toronto.  So what can we say about what it is to be a Canadian when no two are alike?
The answer is that each of them holds certain attitudes and beliefs that are shared by all; whether you’re a Muslim mechanic in Lac La Biche, Alberta or a PEI potato producer, we all think and feel about some subjects the exact same way. Here are but a few:
We, as Canadians, feel we are blessed with great wealth; in resources and in opportunity but none of the political parties can be trusted to manage them effectively. The Conservatives cater to corporations, the NDP cater to wingy weirdos and the Liberals cater to the, well... Liberals.
We, as Canadians, tolerate this political situation because we are fairly unpolitical and refuse to spend time talking about and worrying about something we have no control over. So we talk about the weather instead.
We, as Canadians, are proud of our armed forces; the courageous men and women off in war zones fighting for... uh... for... uh... well, none of us are really sure but, by gum we’re proud of the soldiers that have to do it.
We, as Canadians, hate Canadian produced television unless it involves hockey or curling. We especially hate watered down Canadian versions of successful American shows like “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” which was “Who Wants To Be A Toaster Owner?”
We, as Canadians, care a great deal about our land and our environment and would do anything to maintain the fragile eco-system, other than pay more in taxes or fuel.
We, as Canadians, think the World Cup of Soccer would be better if it was played on ice in an arena with sticks and pucks. We might actually get to compete.
We, as Canadians, think money invested in amateur sports is wasted... until we win. We, as Canadians, love our coffee. But we go to Tim Horton’s anyway.
We as Canadians, think nothing of driving hundreds of miles for any reason.  We would drive the equivalent of the length of England to go for beers with a buddy,  (that’s like to Banff and back). Mind you, we also drive the three blocks to the health club.
We, as Canadians, appreciate extremes in climate from the desert conditions of Dinosaur National Park (named for Prime Minister Harper’s inner circle) to the rainforests of British Columbia (Tourism slogan, “Woah... Dude, check out these trees...”) from the mighty frozen northland, home of the polar bear, the midnight sun and Honest Oktook’s 24 hour Solar Powered Tanning Salon and Grill to southern Ontario with its lush fruit regions, horrendous heat waves and a humidex count in the hundreds. We’ve got mighty mountains and great big seas. We’ve got every kind of climate you could wish for yet we go to the US for holidays ‘for something a little different.’
But the thing we, as Canadians all have, whether we moved here or were born here, we are Canadian because we have ID proving it.  Our membership in this nation boils down to a piece of government paper; a tiny sliver of the Great Ball of Red Tape that runs the country. How Canadian!

The Bees Knees

         You must have heard it by now. That cry of achievement, enjoyment and delight so prevalent on the tongues of today’s youth. “Sick!”  they say, with more zest than grated lemon peel. Yes, “sick” is the new “cool”, although, of course “cool” will ALWAYS be cool.
It seems weird to think of “sick” as meaning good, however. I wonder if it’s part of the “bad means good” mindset where it’s apparently really good to be “Super Bad”.  It seems “sick = good” isn’t even all that new, as the term “sick” was used in that context as far back as 2005 in an article in Rolling Stone. And if it’s in Rolling Stone, it’s got to be cool. Or sick. Or bad... er... good. You know what I mean.
Given my middle-age sensitivities, I find the use of the word “sick” to identify something positive seems mildly disgusting, almost gnarly. (“Gnarly”, in this case meaning its original intent of “offensive” and not the 90’s edition when it meant sick... I mean cool.) Why can’t these young people use something lyrical and whimsical like “the bees knees” which was so popular with in the 1920’s? (It seems when bees collect pollen to make honey, they store it behind their knees, thus making them “suh-weet!”)
There are other choices, too. What about “Hunky Dory”? That one was good enough for us; it should be good enough for them. If they yearn to toss in trendy terms with an edge to them, maybe the young people can recycle sayings such as “rad” and “gear”. Seriously; people actually would say “Man, that’s really gear!”! I think it’s more kickin’ than 23 Skidoo.
The same goes for “nifty”. Now that was a cool word. Sadly the only time you see it used anymore is on quinquagenarian cougars’ T-shirts emblazoned in glorious glitter with the phrase ”Over 50 and Feelin’ Nifty!” Such a shame.... about the loss of the word, I mean “Groovy” is still one of my favourites. Sadly, I remember when it was groovy to say “groovy”. Now if you say “groovy” you sound like an old hippy, which hasn’t stopped me, although the cops sure do. It must be the tie-dyed VW micro-bus I drive.
One expression I found somewhat mystifying and that is “the cat’s pyjamas”. What in the world were they thinking? Have you ever tried to get a cat to wear pyjamas? Good luck. We had a cat that wouldn’t even allow us to put a collar on him. Trying to put bedwear on that one would have led to lethal hemorrhaging for one or both of us.. How this could be construed as a positive is beyond me.
The problem with a lot of these sayings is that they are absolutes. It is sick or cool or groovy or whatever or it isn’t. Some, however, have degrees. Take “dandy”, for example. As a word, dandy is pretty nifty because, although it means neat or swell or skookum, when you add “Jim” to it to make it “Jim dandy”, that means it’s REALLY neat or swell or skookum. The same goes for the word “keen”. Keen is as nifty as dandy because it’s got its own qualifier, as well. Things can be just plain old keen or they can be peachy keen, which is not only much keener than keen but is also somewhat fuzzy, apparently. If you prefer the fuzz-free variety, may I suggest “Nectariny keen”.
There is one saying that was once everywhere but is now like so last Tuesday. That is... or was, “phat”.  I thought that it meant the same as all the other cool synonyms but was recently informed it is an acronym for “pretty hot and tempting”, which to me sounds like a steak.  I should add that the informant I was getting the “down-low” from, a young lady named Mary, (not her real name. Kelsey is her real name), who advised us that she wasn’t sure if there was a comma after the word “pretty” which would change the meaning slightly. Is it/her/she pretty AND hot or just pretty hot? Personally, rather than “phat” I prefer “phull phigured.”
This just in; there’s a word that’s even newer than “sick” and that word is... are you ready for this? The word is “word”, as in “You got two tickets to the Nickleback concert? Word! What? You’re taking someone else? Word!”
“Word” seems to have arrived as an all purpose word to replace all those other cool and gnarly words. Some might see it as a plus; a word to use when the word you’re trying to think of just won’t spring forth from its hiding place somewhere in your cranium. (I HATE it when that happens!)
I hope the word “word” doesn’t catch on as a cool saying. It’s so...bland. I say we should go back to the vaults. All in favour of “the bee’s knees” say “SICK!”

Boggles My Mind

I eyed my opponent with deep suspicion. After all, I had been victorious for the last... oh... dozen matches at least, suddenly, stakes are being discussed, high stakes.  Serious stakes. The field of battle was to be “Boggle”; the game where you make words out of lettered dice. The adversary was my dear, sweet, child-bride; the lovely, the charming, the vocabularily-challenged, Cupcake. The stakes; having to tidy the kitchen, including washing all the dishes that had been accumulating since breakfast. It looked like the aftermath of a Gordon Ramsey show.
“Are you sure you want to do this, honey?” I asked magnanimously. “I know I am the reigning Boggle champ in this house and don’t want to take advantage of you. I am aware your talents lie elsewhere. We could do something we are more even at.... arm wrestling, perhaps.”
“That’s okay,” she breezily replied. “I admit you usually win since “my talents lie elsewhere”, as you diplomatically put it, but I have great confidence I can be triumphant if I pit my talents against yours.” “Game on,” I chortled, grabbing the clear plastic dice container and giving them an enthusiastic shake. I spun the lid into place which forces the 16 die into a neat square four dice across by four dice down and automatically starts the battery-powered timer. The battle had been joined!
The letters were really good ones... it was to be a high word-count round and every second was vital. Amid my concentration, however, I happened to glance up at Cupcake. For some strange reason, she was unbuttoning her nighty.
“Hey!” I blurted out in astonished realization. “That’s not fair! You’re not allowed to distract me like that. That’s... that’s... are you not wearing a bra?”
Cupcake never looked up but continued to feverishly jot down words. I realized I had dishpan hands in my future if I didn’t get cracking but my eyes kept being diverted to her bosom.
You see, the problem is that men are actually hard-wired to appreciate the female figure, especially in the chestal area.  This is hardly news to the billions of women out there who occasionally, and not all I’m sure, use this particular male weakness to further their own agendas. Really! It happens!
Many sociologists maintain that man’s pursuit of beauty is what fuels greed. It is common knowledge that many women are attracted to great, big, thick bulging wallets. This because, to those same sociologists, women aren’t wired for appreciating looks as much as security and status. Multi-billionaire Aristotle Onassis put it best when he said that “Without women, money would become meaningless. “
The media is well aware of men’s fascination with the female form but the messages being sent are mixed. Besides the seemingly thousands of websites dedicated to examples of the fairer gender in various states of undress, there is even a site where women post pictures of their charms to be rated on a scale of 1 to 10. If it is an example of the objectification of women, it certainly appears there are a lot of women who don’t appear to mind. The supply of volunteers seems endless... well, according to a friend who told me about it. As well, if commercials are to be believed, the most desirable women with the most splendid examples of female attributes are attracted to men who drink large amounts of beer. Call me crazy but it has been my experience that this is not the case.
I took another quick peek at Cupcake pulling her nighty aside and then checked out the length of her word list. I still had a chance if I could just focus. It was particularly frustrating because the effectiveness of her ploy is just a one-way street. There is no body part I could flaunt that would have the same effect on her even remotely. The closest I could come would be to unwrap a chocolate bar and wave it seductively in front of her.
I redoubled my efforts at finding words while trying to ignore Cupcake’s heaving cleavage. I vowed not to think of her luscious ample appendages and only focus on the Boggle rack... I mean frame. I wrote like the wind and got some really long, extra-value words.  I may be easy but I’m no push-over.  Finally the timer beeped the end of the match. It was time to tally up our words.
After crossing out all the words we had in common, we counted silently our own scores.
“So... how many did you get?” I asked, my hand covering my total of 38.
“I got 37,” she said proudly.
My victory dance was quickly cut short. Cupcake had yet one more card to play.
“If you do the dishes while I wait for you in bed, I won’t do up my nighty,” she said softly.I was outraged that she would offer such a deal. I was so incensed, I almost didn’t go for it.Stupid hard wiring.

A Graduation Situation

     Last Saturday was a big day for my buddy Pete, whom I’ve known since Grade 5. I have referred to him in this space often; even, occasionally, in a kindly way. Pete, along with his bubbly missus, Roxanne, were proudly watching the graduation ceremony of their youngest daughter; the radiantly beautiful and sweet Shelby.
Given that, once more, I was not considered for the role of “keynote speaker” at her graduation (Or any others. Ever. The blackguards. Good thing I’m not bitter.), I would like to share some insights into the phase of life these young folks are now entering based on my observations, convictions and crap I’ve just made up.  Here then, for Shelby and all her fellow graduates across this great land, are pearls of wisdom to base the rest of your life upon. Or not.
Don’t worry if you don’t know what you want to be when you grow up. I’m almost fifty and I still have no idea. The problem is with the “growing up” part. I’ve seen what it does to people. It’s not pretty. Look what it did to Nick Nolte.
As comfy as home is, it’s time to move out.  Don’t worry that there are no jobs to be had and rent is astronomical and transportation costs for those cursed with youth are absurdly expensive. Just get out. We parents know you’ll be back in no time anyway, but at least if you get out right away, you’ll appreciate home so much more. You might even start helping out a bit.
You can be anything you want to be. That is, if your parents are rich and generous, and you’re actually smart enough and talented enough to do what you want to do. No? Sucks to be you then. Can you say “Would you like that upsized?”
Don’t be in a hurry to get married. No matter how old you get.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch... unless you’re gorgeous with an incredible body or are a politician.Networking is great to increase your social base and possibly establish business contacts. But beware of social networking websites. Having pictures of your drunken parties posted on your profile page can be problematic for potential employment and/or parents you told you were just spending a quiet evening doing homework over at her friend’s house.
If you work for a small company, expect to spend years establishing a reputation and paying your dues.  You will get the worst shifts and lousiest pay. This is also true if you work for a big company.
Avoid “get rich quick” schemes. I will say, however, that the poor fellow with all his money in Nairobi, needing help to get it out, sounded legit.
Everyone is normal until you get to know them. Always allow for other people’s foibles since we have to tolerate yours. You can make an exception for people who spit when they talk. Ewww! It’s okay to be without your cell phone sometimes and talk to people face to face. I know that sounds kind of old fashioned but you might like it if you try it a few times. It may be awkward at first but don’t give up. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.
Now that you’re out of school, it’s okay to wear warm clothes outside in winter. Watching young people walking to school without any gloves or headgear whatsoever gives me shivers worse than one of Cupcake’s lectures.  I can appreciate you didn’t want to wreck your ‘do that you’d spent over an hour creating, but ears lost to frostbite aren’t pretty, either. What if you need glasses some day? How will you keep them up?
Don’t be in a hurry to have children. Just remember how rotten you were. If you weren’t rotten, don’t forget it skips a generation sometimes.
Eat properly. Good nutritional habits developed young can stick with you, much like Nanaimo bars. Sadly, it is too late for me and I am condemned to eating unhealthy, processed food which is chock-a-block full of enough salt to attract cattle as well as other tasty ingredients such as sodium erythorbate, whatever the heck that is.  You’ll be better off to stick with foods that have only one ingredient; “carrot”, for instance, or “lettuce”.
Start thinking about fibre. It’s never too early. Oh yeah, and retirement.
Get plenty of exercise. Just remember while you’re out there playing hockey or football or extreme rocket-boarding with your young, bulletproof bodies, that you’ll need those same bodies when you’re older.     You won’t need pictures to make you think of the good old days. The aches in your body, wherever you had a major owie; broken arm, dislocated shoulder, reattached leg, etc. will remind you of those carefree times for the rest of your life.
And most importantly, don’t take advice from strangers.
Good luck, Shelby!