Perfectly Imperfect

"We wish nothing more, but we will accept nothing less.  Masters in our own house we must be, but our house is the whole of Canada.” – Pierre Trudeau

We wish nothing more, but we will accept nothing less. Masters in our own house we must be, but our house is the whole of Canada. Pierre Trudeau
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With our birthdays just one day apart, I’ve always felt a particular affinity with Canada Day celebrations.  I was a day from turning twelve years old when we had our centennial celebration.  There has been a whole lot of discussion about what this year’s celebration means and in my social media universe, many have expressed their reasons for not celebrating the 150th anniversary of Confederation.  I respect their choice.  But it is not my choice.  More than ever, I want to shout from the rooftops this year of my love and gratitude for this country.    

I realize that our nation is far from perfect.  I understand why our indigenous peoples don’t want to celebrate the anniversary of their colonization.  We have treated them shamefully.  We stole their land, their cultures and all too often their lives.  For more than three centuries, we abused our indigenous people and regretfully, we are still failing them in far too many ways.  But even God can’t change history.  What has happened, has happened.  What we can do is to move forward to try and make things right.  We can work toward reconciliation.  We can admit our failures and our wrongdoings.  We can apologize.  Perhaps we are not moving fast enough to do these things, but I think we are moving forward.  More of us than ever before, seem aware of the need for reconciliation.  Our federal government has taken steps and made promises to do more to make things right.  I, for one, am choosing to believe them and I will work my hardest to hold them accountable to keep the promises they’ve made.

Apart from those who were here when the first Europeans came, you don’t have to scratch very deep to find that the rest of us come from somewhere else.  On my mom’s side, my ancestors were part of those first groups of French settlers.  But my dad was a first generation Canadian. His parents came to Canada from Lebanon, his father emigrating first to the U.S. as a young boy before coming to Canada and then his mother coming to Canada many years later to follow her brother and marry my grandfather.  They made their lives here.  While my mom and dad shared a common religion (they met in the church bowling league), their cultural backgrounds were certainly different.  Baklava and butter tarts are quite a combination.  In the community where my sisters and I grew up, there weren’t a lot of others who shared our Middle-Eastern roots but it is far different from that now.  I inherited my dad’s Middle-Eastern looks and carry his name.  Admittedly, it hasn’t always been easy to have the name and discrimination has reared its ugly head from time-to-time.  My dad encouraged me to take my husband’s English name when we married, believing things would be easier for me, but I did not.  I told him that don’t have the nose to pull off an English name.  In truth, I wouldn’t dream of changing my name to try and hide the truth of who I am.  I’m proud of my Lebanese heritage as I am proud of my French Canadian heritage and of my Mohawk heritage which I learned of in adulthood.

Welcoming immigrants to Canada is truly one of the best parts of us.  We know that everyone brings something to the table.  We are a huge country.  We have lots of room for everyone, on our land and in our hearts.  In many ways, I believe it is the harshness of our climate that made us the socially responsible society that we have become.  Our nation builders would not have survived had they not had the help of our indigenous people and also taken care of one another.  Many years ago, I attended a lecture by the late Pierre Burton.  He told us that he believed one of the reasons we Canadians didn’t develop the rugged individualist wild-west philosophy that developed south of the border, is that it’s just too cold here.  Gunslingers wouldn’t be able to get their mittens off fast enough to have a shoot out at high noon in Saskatoon.

We still understand the need to take care of one another.  We need welfare programs, universal healthcare, good public education and sound infrastructure systems.  I rarely hear anyone gripe about paying taxes to support these things. We seem to know that we all benefit from a sound social structure.  And no, it is not perfect, but we’re working on it.

I’ve had the privilege of traveling a little bit in Canada.  There are still a few gaps in my exploration but I’m not done yet.  I still haven’t been to Saskatchewan, Manitoba or New Brunswick and I haven’t made it to the Northwest Territories.  But I’ve spent time exploring the rest of the country and each time I venture to a new destination, I am awed by the majesty of our land from the breathtaking coastal views of British Columbia, to the rugged cliffs of Newfoundland, from the icy crystal waters of northern Ontario to the red sand beaches of PEI.  I am convinced I live in the most beautiful land on Earth.  

So on Saturday, I will wear my red and white clothes.  I will drink Canadian wine and Canadian beer.  I will enjoy a butter tart or two and yes, even a piece of baklava.  I will sing the unofficial, gender-neutral version of ‘O Canada’ because the legislation to change the official version has just been blocked in the Senate and while I had hoped we would have fixed it by now, we have not.  In my heart of hearts though, I believe we will get there.

On Sunday, I will turn 62 and as I do I will note another thing I have in common with my country.  I too am a work in progress, perfectly imperfect and striving to be better.

Happy 150^th Birthday Canada, my true north, strong and free!