Once more!

Well he did it again.  Our Prime Minister Stephen Harper in hot water and deep doodoo over the torture of Afghan prisoners and Copenhagen has gone to the Governor General and got leave to shut down the legislature. Thus everything dies on the Agenda and he is free to rule as he pleases.  The Commons were to reconvene on January 25, instead a new Speech from the Throne will be delivered March 3 and a new budget March 4.
Currently the surveys are favorable to the Conservatives, not in majority territory still, but likely to produce a slitghtly better minority.  With the Liberals in disarray, the Bloc Québécois losing some grab in Québec and a freshly  Conservatives packed Senate, expect a wave of conservative senators nominations in the coming weeks, Harper may end up getting what he wants on harsher criminal laws, scuttling the gun registry and doing nothing climate wise.
Wanna bet on a spring election?

Shame on canada

Deux fois, en 1775 et en 1812, les États Unis ont envahi le Canada, sans succès.  En 1837, les Fils de la Liberté et Louis-Joseph Papineau, le héros de nos souverainistes et de nos Jeunes Patriotes, souhaitaient l'annexion aux États Unis et la création d'un état continental unilingue anglais.  Encore un échec.
En 1912, Sir Wilfrid Laurier premier ministre du Canada voulait un traité de réciprocité dans le commerce entre les deux pays.  Il a fallu attendre Brian Mulroney pour arriver au traité de libre échange  qui a livré notre commerce et notre industrie aux États Unis.  Cela fonctionne quand c'est à l'avantage des États Unis pas dans le cas contraire; on l'a vu dans l'affaire du bois d'oeuvre (building lumber).
Jean Chrétien nous a liés à la guerre en Afghanistan et, en 2009, à Copenhague, Stephen Harper a remis notre politique énergétique et climatique entre les mains de nos voisins du sud.  Nous sommes devenus le 51e état des États Unis, un état plus docile que la Californie et sous la tutelle des pétrolières albertaines.
Pour la première fois de ma vie, j'ai honte de mon pays.

Histoire d'une pomme

Voici une petite histoire pour cette période au cours de laquelle les humains souhaitent que l'amour et la paix s'installent sur notre planète encore bleue...mais pour combien de temps?

Pomme d’amour

1945, Marie, 14 ans, se repose sur un banc au pied du Mont Royal.  Elle habite rue St-Paul proche du marché Bonsecours.  Son père est débardeur.  Patrick, 14 ans aussi, habite le Griffintown, son père est peaussier chez Hollander furs.  Comme Marie et beaucoup de jeunes du bas de la ville, il aime bien se balader sur le Mont Royal, leur campagne, leur country club.

Croquant une pomme, il passe devant le banc de Marie.  Du doigt il montre la place vide à côté d’elle et demande : « May I? »  Elle dit oui.  Après un court instant, il lui offre de partager sa pomme et, sortant un canif de sa poche, il en coupe une grosse tranche du côté non mordu.  Elle sourit et accepte.  Elle en français, lui en anglais, ils se parlent…et se comprennent approximativement.

Le temps passe et le soleil baisse, Patrick se penche vers Marie et lui dit à l’oreille : « Tomorrow? »  Elle dit oui.  Ce soir là, Marie court à la bibliothèque emprunter l’Anglais rendu facile, Patrick va chercher French made easy.

Leurs rendez-vous montagnards deviennent réguliers et, les années passant, ils se retrouvent à l’heure des orientations sérieuses.  Tous deux ont un emploi d’étudiants et se dirigent en Droit, lui à McGill, elle à Montréal, mais le banc du Mont Royal demeure un point de rencontre incontournable.  Ce banc devient leur salle d’étude, ils y comparent leurs notes, elle le familiarise avec le Code Napoléon, il lui fait comprendre la Common Law.  Le même jour les verra admis au barreau.

La famille de Marie voulait un mariage à Notre-Dame, leur église paroissiale, celle de Patrick voulait St-Patrick…les tourtereaux, après bien des démarches, obtinrent la permission de se marier à la chapelle de la mission catholique chinoise de la rue Lagauchetière au coin de Chenneville, compromis bien canadien.  Après les festivités d’usage, ils annoncèrent aux deux familles sidérées leur prochain départ pour Toronto.  On les embauchait dans une Étude légale, lui pour sa spécialisation en droit corporatif, elle pour sa connaissance du droit civil…et une clientèle franco-ontarienne croissante…et plus revendicatrice.

Un jour, le facteur dépose chez eux une lettre en provenance de la Lakehead University, à Thunderbay.  Une nouvelle fenêtre s’ouvre pour eux : Patrick serait affecté au contentieux de l’université, elle familiariserait les étudiants au code civil québécois et à ses différences avec la Common Law.  Les enfants étaient partis vers leurs vies, le nid était vide…ils acceptèrent.

Ils s’installèrent dans un joli bungalow à flanc de coteau à côté de l’université,  De leur véranda ils voyaient la baie et le fameux Géant Endormi qui en protège l’entrée.  Ils y coulèrent des jours calmes et heureux.  À l’aube de 1997, ils se retrouvèrent au seuil de la retraite.  L’Ouest canadien les avait toujours intrigués…mais ils n’y étaient jamais allés.  Ils iraient donc.

À Winnipeg, après avoir salué les mânes de Gabriel Roy à St-Boniface, ils enfilèrent la branche nord de la Transcanadienne.  On leur avait dit qu’ils y verraient mieux les Rocheuses que par le sud, et c’est vrai.  Ils s’extasièrent au pied du mont Robson et faillirent être chargés par un mouflon qu’ils avaient dérangé.  En Colombie britannique,  la descente vers le traversier, à Horseshoe Bay, leur révéla un paysage féérique et le parc autour du quai leur procura un banc qui les remplit de nostalgie.  Mais ils voulaient aller sur l’île de Vancouver.  Pendant la traversée, ils tentèrent de se tenir sur la proue du navire mais le vent si fort les repoussa vite vers la baie vitrée du salon des passagers.

Arrivée banale à Nanaïmo, petite ville sans grand caractère.  À 45 minutes de route de là, ils s’arrêtèrent à Chemainus.  Quelle révélation!  Proprette et coquette, Chemainus étale son histoire sur tous les murs de ses édifices et même sur ses poubelles, pardon, ses « beautification barrels », joliment encastrées dans des cubes ornés de peintures colorées et évocatrices.  Ils débouchèrent bientôt sur un petit parc orné de sculptures.  Un banc y accueillait les voyageurs fatigués.  Du banc on voyait les œuvres d’art et au-delà, les collines de l’île.  Ils s’assirent un long moment, main dans la main, en silence.

Chemainus les avait conquis et ils n’en repartirent pas.

Paul Costopoulos, Longueuil, mardi, 29 septembre 2009

(Texte rédigé dans le cadre d'un groupe d'écriture  au McGill Institute for Learning in Retirement--MILR)

Merry...?

Not so long ago, this time of year or any other time for that matter, when you met someone you would inquire about his health and that of his wife or husband and family.  These days when I meet someone I inquire about his or her health...and wait for him or her to bring about the subject of his or her marital and family status.
I came to do that after a few embarrassing moments of "we have divorced 2 months ago, or my son died of aids some weeks ago" and so on and so forth.  So until I get a signal that the person still has a spouse or family, I refrain from asking.
Same thing about this time of year.  We used to part company with a resounding "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year".  Now you say "Happy Holidays" not even Holydays because you never know wether the guy celebrates Noel, Hanukah, Kwanza (that is the latest I became aware of) or some Adah or even nothing.

So, as of this year I have come to part with:"Merry whatever you may be celebrating".  This way, save for hard defendersnt of laycity, I guess I do not step on too many toes.
Merry, Feliz, Buona...............(fill in the dots).

Retsina

Some years ago at the Psaro Taverna, a small park Avenue Greek restaurant in Montreal,  we tasted a strange wine, a Retsina Cambas.  The waiter had recommended it with fried calamari and red snapper.  At first sip we were taken aback...but the taste sort of grew on us and it definitely enhanced the taste of  the calamari and the snapper.
We later bought a few bottles at the Société des Alcools du Québec and had friends tasting it with venison and spiced meat roasts of various kinds.  The results were persistant: hesitation followed by "give me more".
Several years ago the Retsina disappeared from the SAQ shelves.  Last week, to my astonishment, I saw a golden liquor on top of a low stand at our nearby SAQ outlet, about 6 bottles of Malamatina Retsina, 500 ml, bottles for 4, 95$C.  I immediately got one and we drank it with a fish dish.  Although not as good as we recalled the Cambas to be, it was still a great treat.
Some years ago, in a short notice in the national Geographic Magazine I read that divers had found a sunken Phoenician barge off the coast of Turkey.  It contained amphoras carbon dated to circa 2000 B.C. containing what turned out to be retsina...thanks to the cold waters of the deep it was still drinkable.

Meeting of minds

I have been so busy writing, lately, that I did not have time to blog.  My two study groups at MILR are rather demanding and they consume much ink.  But it is so rewarding to share thoughts and knowledge with other equally curious and loquacious people.
One group you have, on a previous blog, an example of what we do.  The other is on Québec history.  it is a remarquable group by it's make up: francophones, anglophones and allophones.  We are from diverse school systems and even diverse provinces or countries.
The Canadians amongst us have all learned their history...but, learned in Ontario or New Brunswick, in Québec's English or French schools, it sounds somewhat different.  We are trying to harmonize our views.  So far, war has not broken out and we do have a certain conscensus.  It is all about being open minded and it somehow works.
History, after all, is not black and white but infinite shades of grey.

Learning

I've been blogging for some 6 months maybe a little more and commenting on other's blogs for over a year.  Save for Neil McKenty and Le Bourlingueur I have never met face to face with the people I share my thoughts with.  Yet they have taught me me many things.
From Neil and the Commentator I learned that a blog can be a political tool to promote one's points of views be they left or right leaning.  Discussing on Neil's and Commentator's,(or Alessandro) I have been confronted with people I would not spontaneously have been inclined to deal with...but have learned to accept as they are...and respect their ideas without suscribing to them.
Abe Lincoln has shown me, but he is unaware of it, to use pictures.  They are a potent tool to convey one's feelings and moods.  Erin has put me in contact with a type of poetry I can get in tune with and I thank her for that.
Café Philos has reconciled me with philosophy and introspection and Rosaria has shown me how you can go back on your personal life and story without being preachy nor boastful.
Man of Roma has rekindled my love for history and the humanities he even woke up the slumbering latinist in me.  Besides, through his correspondants I slowly become more aware of how people think in India, Japan, China and other Oriental places.  What an enrichment.
From my old friend and colleague, Jean-Guy le Bourlingueur, I have learned that when a Westerner gets immersed in India, he forgets to keep up with his blog.  Must be the atmosphere out there.

Snow is coming

For several days now our meteo has been forecasting light snow over Longueuil.  None has fallen...so far.  While we lived in Val-David, in our beloved Laurentian Hills, the smell of nearing snow was a cause for rejoicing.  It meant a new dressing for our barren trees and the mutation of evergreens into huge tipis when their long branches laden with heavy snow hung low, the lower ones even touching the ground.

It also meant the hum of snow making machines at the nearby Vallée Bleue ski hills and the eventual recall of laid off seasonal workers with the return of the toursists.  It was a merry period and heralded the coming Holydays.

Looking out the window over the kitchen sink (see picture above) we saw nothing but beauty and the birds at the feeder.  Watching the snow fall was so relaxing and at night, when the sky was clear the moon shone making millions of little diamonds glitter...we could even see stars and the occasional Northern Lights.

Now, in Longueuil, it means dirty streets, buses running late and hoping our snow clearing contractor will come and clear the gritty snowbank pushed and compacted in our exit by the city's snow plows clearing the boulevard before we have to go out..   Of course due to light pollution very few stars are visible and the moon looks sick.

But we are nearer the kids and our grandchildren; it helps cushion the blow!

Municipal elections, the sequel

Well we have voted.  Laval has returned it's mayor and Montreal did the same.  They also elected their slates of candidates so both mayors will have a majority at City Hall.  So much for (not) cleaning up doubtfull ways of doing things.
 Longueuil has voted in a new mayor but gave a mojority to the former party in power so the new mayoress is in a minority position at City hall.  Everybody will have to thread carefully.
Elsewhere nothing has changed much and in 84 towns all were returned to office without opposition.  Satisfaction or mere apathy?

The painting

This is Mrs Caiserman-Roth's painting that inspired my previous post.  What does it bring to your mind?

Autour d'une peinture

Biscornu!

                        1947, fini la guerre, même en Asie.  L’imagination peut retravailler.  Au collège, élève de Philo I, Jehan-Marc Léger, pas encore secrétaire de la Francophonie et encore moins délégué du Québec à Paris, publie un poème dans les pages de « Le Grasset ».   Sa prose dans laquelle les vers s’étaient mis s’intitulait  Spleen.  En voici les premiers mots, j’ai oublié le reste : « Spleen, vache hennissante au haut d’un  escalier en spirale avec le vide au bout, … ».  Le reste était à l’avenant, je ne sache pas qu’il ait récidivé, en tout cas, pas au collège.

La « Still Life with Red Chair » de Mme Caiserman-Roth, peinte en 1947, m’a remémoré ce texte et l’époque.  Dans notre si tranquille société tout commençait à se déguinglander, lentement mais sûrement, sous l’influence des retours de guerre et de l’immigration.  En observant la peinture, on se demande comment les objets ne glissent pas par terre.  Tout est rabattu et la gravité est mise à rude épreuve.  Signe des temps?

Je suis de la génération de la Révolution Tranquille et le supérieur du collège avait réuni tous les élèves, même les philosophes, qu’on ne voyait jamais, dans la salle d’étude des grands, versification, belles-lettres et rhétorique, pour nous aviser, quand nous critiquions le gouvernement dans les tramways et autobus, de parler moins fort car il avait été averti d’un retrait des subventions du collège…si nous persistions.  Vive la liberté d’expression!  Dans un tel climat, les Léger et Caiserman-Roth ont été des héros.

Au même moment et dans les mêmes corridors de Grasset, un gars timide, en Philo I lui aussi, rasait les murs et ne faisait pas de vagues…mais il écrivait et gardait ses écrits pour lui.  Un jour, Marc Favreau deviendrait SOL.  Mes enfants n’oublieront jamais l’émission Sol et Gobelet et son thème : « Sol et Gobelet sont de drôles de pistolets ».  Est-ce Sol, Gobelet ou un autre membre de l’émission qui aurait vu Still Life with Red Chair? Toujours est-il qu’un jour Gobelet reçoit une peinture en cadeau.  Aussitôt on l’accroche au mur…mais le cadre est accroché croche. 

Une grave discussion s’engage.  Que faire?  Les deux compères décident de corriger la situation…en baissant un côté du plancher.  Le cadre est maintenant droit mais la fenêtre est croche. On la rend parallèle au cadre et ainsi de suite pour tout, le cadre devenant le point de référence absolu.  J’ignore s’il existe toujours, mais, au musée des sciences et de la technologie d’Ottawa on trouvait un kiosque : une pièce de maison complètement meublé mais inclinée à 30 degrés.  Nos enfants l’avaient baptisée « la maison de Sol et Gobelet ».  Seule l’armée pouvait les sortir de là une fois entrés.  J’ai l’intime conviction que Mme Caiserman-Roth a eu quelque chose à voir là dedans.     

Paul Costopoulos, mercredi, 21 octobre 2009 
                    

Élections municipales

Le 1er novembre, les Québécoises et Québécois de toute la province sont convoqué(e)s aux urnes pour élire leurs maires et conseillers municipaux.  Nous sommes en pleine campagne...et ce n'est pas joli, joli.
Le moins pire, dans plusieurs municipalités tout le monde a été élu sans opposition.  Satisfaction ou indifférence?
Ailleurs?  À Boisbriand, un gros contracteur aurait tenté de faire pression pour éviter des élections et que "tout le monde garde sa job, &*%#!" (sic) selon un enregistrement fourni par un témoin.  Dans une municipalité voisine le local du candidat de l'opposition a été incendié.
À Montréal, le parti au pouvoir fait ou a fait l'objet de 6 enquêtes policières et un candidat vedette de l'opposition vient de quitter ses fonctions dans le parti, mais demeure candidat, soupçonné d'avoir accepté
100 000$ d'un contracteur impliqué dans plusieurs des enquêtes mentionnées un peu plus tôt.
À Longueuil, le maire sortant aurait été en situation apparente de conflit d'intérêt.
Notez qu'un ministre du gouvernement du Québec vient de démissionner suite à des contrats octroyés par son ministère à une compagnie dont sa famille est propriétaire.
Silvio Berlusconi aurait-il donné des cours a nos politiciens.  Évidemment tout le monde s'indigne et les candidats des oppositions promettent de faire le ménage et jurent de pratiquer la transparence.  Seulement voilà, peu de gens vont voter.  Un peu partout plusieurs candidats se diviseront les votes pour un poste.  Les mécontents se répartiront entre les candidats d'opposition et les apôtres du statu quo voteront pour les sortants...et gagneront.
Celui qui a dit "Divide ut Impera" était déjà au pouvoir, il ne le briguait pas.  Comme nous ne sommes pas en régime proportionnel, "the first past the post wins all", les autres auront toujours des papiers mouchoirs pour éponger leurs larmes.

B.A.D.

The Gazette

In 1776 Benjamin Franklin and an army of the not yet USA invaded Canada and occupied, however briefly, Montreal.  Franklin hoped to get French-Candians' support by giving them a french newspaper.  He brought in Fleury Mesplet, a young French exiled printer.  By the time young Mesplet was ready to publish, the occupier had gone home not being able to garner the support he had hoped for.
Nonetheless in 1778 La Gazette Politique et Littéraire de Montréal began publishing.  After a few years it became bilingual French/English and not long after unilingual English.  For the last 231 years it has been a Montreal institution.  Some years ago it was taken over by Canwest publishing, a Winnipeg based holding.  The Asper family managed to drive their newspapers to the brink of bankruptcy by borrowing heavily to get them...only to see the add revenues plumet and the readership vanish as editorial control was made in Winnipeg.
Now the Montreal Gazette is on the verge of being sold...or worse, closed.
231 years of history would be wiped out by a red bottom line.  This morning, Josh Freed, a regular columnist, comes up with the idea that we could all bunch together and buy the Gazette with the journalists in order to save it.  Could be a great idea.  Of course I could be a bit sentimental, my uncle Henri worked 52 years at the Gazette Printing Company, entering at 18 as an apprentice binder and retitring at 70 when the binding department was shut down.

Quel sans gêne!

M. Bernie Ecclestone veut bien accepter 75 millions de dollars de nos taxes pour venir faire des millions chez-nous avec ses Formules 1 si polluantes et bruyantes que je les entends jusque chez-moi  à 8 kilomètres du circuit Gilles-Villeneuve.  Nous débourserions 75 millions pour un évènement qui nous rapportera 100 millions en revenus pour nos commerçants qui paieront bien sûr des impôts et M. Ecclestone fera lui aussi des millions...avec notre argent.  Mais voilà, M. Ecclestone ne veut pas payer d'impôts sur ses gains et exige une garantie écrite de la part de nos 3 ordres de gouvernement, sinon, pas de course.
Je dis: "M. Ecclestone, restez chez-vous ou respectez nos lois.  Nous ne sommes plus, et depuis longtemeps, une colonie brittannique."

Party choices.

Did you know that Canada has 19 registered political parties?  There is a 20th one on the way: the Pirate party, aiming to change the Copyright and Patent Acts.  Could these parties offer a credible alternative to our worn out Conservatives, Liberals and New Democrats?
For a complete list go to www.electionscanada.ca/content.asp?sec...   You will find a resumé on each party and where to reach them.  Food for thought?

Daffy Duck

Do you remember the Bugs Bunny Road Runner Hour?  "It's a bird, it's a star, no, it's Super Duck!", and he usually ended in a wall or other obstacle.  Well it seems Ignatieff and his party have turned into so many Daffy Ducks.  Much posturing, not much results.
  The Outremont missstep, two useless no confidence (safe) motions he knew he could not win, a useless summer committee on Unemployment Insurance later, he looks for ever more the vacuous intellectual.  He is clearly no match for Harper.
Could the Liberals pull their act together, get a real leader, even if it meant getting Chrétien back and get real action going?

Oh dear, what can I do?

On November 1st all the near 2 000 Québec municipalities go to the polls to choose their administrators for the next 4 years.  We used to have independant candidates for most seats, including the mayor's.  Nowadays, most everywhere, we have party backed slates.
Our city of Longueuil has two municipal parties.  The one in place presently has been running the town for the last 27 years.  It has been tainted with quite a few seemingly conflicts of interests although all inquiries have concluded that even if some indiscretions had taken place no actual misdeeds had happen since all the officials involved, even if their companies or legal practice had profited by municipal actions, had their belongings  in blind trusts and they had no say in the goings on.  Still it makes me uneasy.
The other party is run by a former Bloc Québécois MP in Ottawa.  Now the Bloc was set up to help bring about Québec's sovereignty and be a watchdog in Ottawa.  It is now clear that soveriegnty is a most elusive goal and that the Bloc' deputation has achieved nothing but keeping Québec fron the decision making process in Ottawa irrespective of who governs.  Thus it has become irrelevant and remaining there is incoherent.  The lady resigned recently for family reasons (?) but soon emerged as a municipal pârty leader and mayoral candidate.  Can she be trusted to be a coherent mayor?  Is she part of a soveriegnist movement to take control of our city halls?  Several Bloc and PQ MPs or MPPs are running all over.
If the incumbent party is of dubious morals, if the rival one has, or could have, a hidden agenda, what then are the voters supposed to do?

Minority saga

We will not have a snap election...for now.  Harper who, in camera and sub secreto, ranted against the coalition of Liberals, Socialists and Separatists, has given just enough of what the Separatists asked for to be saved by them.  The Bloc Québécois will vote, Friday, with the Conservatives thus keeping them in power...for a few more weeks.  As the saying goes: "Politics make for strange bedfellows".

Speed limit

The Montreal Gazette has a column called "Squeaky Wheels" dedicated to public transportation woes.  Yesterday a writer complained about how drivers respecting the posted speed limits were impeding traffic and made him pass them either to the left or, on three lanes highways, by the right thus causing him to breach the law.  And he signed with his full name.
Now I must surmise that this guy is, in advance, pleading guilty to any speeeding ticket he could get.  If the driver ahead drives at the posted speed limit then anyone passing him is driving over the speed limit and is guilty of a trafic violation no matter from what side he passes the car ahead of him.
How weird can you get?

J'y vais? J'y vais pas? J'y...

Cette semaine, rentrée parlementaire à Ottawa.  Tout le monde menace de faire tomber le gouvernement Harper...sauf si M Harper se plie aux exigences des 3 autres chefs tout en affirmant que personne, les électeurs les premiers, ne veut aller en élection.  La grande question:  M. Harper fera-t-il lui même tomber son gouvernement dès vendredi en présentant une motion économique inacceptable aux 3 autres partis?
J'ai l'impression d'asssiter à un "chicken game".  Comme des paons, à tour de rôle, chacun vient faire la roue pour séduire la paonne.  Mon problème, en tant que paonne, c'est qu'aucun des paons ne m'attire.  Aucun n'est crédible.  Harper nous berne avec sa présumée ouverture comme l'a bien démontré une certaine vidéo clandestine tournée alors qu'il s'adressait à ses partisans et qu'il se croyait à huis-clos.  Ignatieff, depuis le début, clame qu'il va faire tomber le gouvernement...mais il ne l'a jamais fait et refuse de s'associer à ceux dont il a besoin pour le faire.  C'est un inconnu pour la plupart des canadiens qui s'en méfient.  Jack Layton est un beau parleur, bel homme et, même en tenue "casual", élégant.  Le vrai socialiste de salon.  Il ne fait pas le poids même auprès des syndicats, sa base naturelle pourtant.
Gilles Duceppe présente, c'est le moins qu'on en puisse dire, une belle constance,  mais il ne pourra jamais être ailleurs que dans l'opposition.  Quant à Mme May, ses verts sont si pâles qu'il ne se voient pas.  De plus, aux dernières élections elle ne voulait pas se présenter ailleurs qu'à Halifax pour ne pas déranger les études de sa fille...et la voilà à Vancouver pour le prochain scrutin????
Peut-être que le parti de la Lévitation à une chance de former le prochain gouvernement?

Socialist plot

This morning President Obama gives a pep talk to Wakefield High School students in Arlington, VA, and on national TV networks..  Conservatives all over the U.S. of A. have made a big hoopla about it.  The socialist was getting at the students to spread his hated agenda and corrupt their malleable minds.  Hitler and Stalin, they said, had done the same.  In Texas, parents were planning to keep their children home to shield them from that propaganda stunt.  Schools were planning to unplug their TVs.
As Shakespeare would have said: "Much ado about nothing".  This morning, the CNN website publishes, in PDF form, the prepared remarks of President Obama's back to school events.  I read and printed them.  They are just what our classic college superior, Father Allard, would have said in his welcome speech each September, and believe me he was no socialist.  The school principal in Arlington must have helped in writing this piece.
Come to think of it I would not be surprised if the paranoid right would now spin it as a devious machiavellian socialist softening approach for a more deleterious intervention when they will have lowered their guard.

Head in the clouds

I have always been fascinated by clouds. Not in any scientific or meteorological way but the sheer poetry and fantasy potential they have. Last week being a rather cloudy week where we were traveling I took some pictures of cloud formations that struck my fancy. I can't resist sharing them with you hoping they will wake your fancies also.

Hope you enjoy!

A trip in history.

The wife and I took a short trip last week. We drove down the St-Lawrence valley, to begin with. We stopped overnight in St-Jean-Port-Joli. The town is home to the Bourgault sculptors dynasty. The Three Bérets, as the 3 founding brothers were known, have been succeeded by their sons and daughters and the place is brimming with sculptors and sculptures, wood of course. A sculpture biennial is held there in a park named after the Three Bérets.

They also happen to have a beautiful 1779 church. It has been adorned, of course, since the 1930s with several Bourgaults and disciples sculptures. If you wonder about the way it is built, there is a reason to it. The building is parrallel with the river and rounded at the back to shelter the front from northearsterly winds blowing in from the river, the rounded back spreads the snow around acting as a plow. The river here is some 20 miles wide, it has sizable tides and the water is salted.

The town also boasts a reconstuction af Philippe Aubert de Gaspé's manor house. It is a museum celebrating the town's people and history. It is called le Musée de la mémoire vivante because people have contributed artifacts and live taped and videotaped testimonys of life in the region.

From there we drove to Rivière-du-Loup where we took the 60 minutes ferry crossing to St-Siméon. There the river has gone to 25 miles across.

Out there you see a small whale sightseeing boat. We saw several from our room's balcony in St-Siméon...and for free.

The sun rises over the sand bar halfway to Rivière-du-Loup. Clouds held us company much of the time. From St-Siméon, we drove to Tadoussac, one of the very first fur trading post in the colony. There is still a chapel there dating from 1687.

Tadoussac is at the confluence of the Saguenay Fjord and the St-Laurent river. Highway 138 is cut by the Saguenay and the province operates a free ferry crossing:

We then went to Lac St-Jean whence the Saguenay river takes it's source, the lake is almost a perfect circle 31 miles in diameter and is famous for the ouananniche fish and its swimming crossing competition.

You have here a view of the shore from our motel unit. we then headed home via the St-Maurice valley down to Trois-Rivière home of the first metal industry in New France. The federal governement maintains a park there: le Parc national des Forges du St-Maurice.

This is a view of what is left of the furnace. The mill was shut down in 1853 and it operated almost 200 years.

We then headed home...and the sun showed up.

Bye!

Off for a week. See you all next week.

Labels

In Canada the law calls for truth in labeling. You have to call things as they are. For instance 100% beef sausages have to be just that: 100% beef. A beef hamburger can not be 30% tofu but only beef otherwise you can not call it a hamburger.

So why does it not apply to our laws and politicians? We have an Health Act that is a socialist measure to some degree but allows for a percentage of free enterprise medecine. Should we post the mixture's content and proportions. We have politicians who call themselves Liberals or Conservatives or something else...but when comes time to apply their ideologies (or have they any) they act as though these Ideologies were not relevant. Should we sue them for false advertising or for false pretense?

A case in point: this weekend in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the New Democratic Party is considering changing it's name and producing a political platform nearer to the center. Would that make them lefter leaning Liberals? If so let's call a horse a horse and merge the parties. Some brilliant PR man, probably, even suggested they change from New Democratic Party of Canada to the Democrat Party of Canada? Will they be running Obama or Clinton in the next federal election?

Come on guys, let's have some clear concepts and choices please.

Overload

Un de mes employé m'a déjà reproché de faire circuler trop d'informations. Il n'avait pas, disait-il, le temps de lire tout ça. Que dirait-il aujourd'hui?

With the newspapers on internet and all the blogs vying for attention he would be sick. And we have not touched Emails and other means of communication.

My grandson is glued to his laptop uploading and downloading, chatting with friends. My son spends an inordinate amount of time, wherever he is checking on his Emails from the university, from London College, from Finland, Sweden and Iceland, not to mention Buffalo and his friend in Boston.

My daughters have their load also. One has almost to go to bed with the company Blackberry, the other, soon as she sets foot in the house, checks her SPCA Emails to update their stray cats and dogs list and to put online their foster families' notes about animals up for adoption; she works all day on a computer since her office is in Montreal but all her colleagues and her boss are in Toronto.

I follow Al Jazeera, the BBC, CNN, le Monde, Haaretz, Radio-Canada on line and several blogs.

Mon épouse, plus modestement, se cherche de la documentation sur le site de Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec.

Today, two bloggers that I follow were considering slacking a bit...the fun had run out; they both run several blogs. That is a full time job, no wonder they consider retiring. As we say:"trop, c'est trop". In other words: enough is enough. Let's relax and take it easy...but, please, keep checking on me.

Canadian diversity

Meet my grandchildren, Alexis and Arianne. Although 10 years apart they have the same Mom and dad. Alexis is the fifth direct male descendent of Andreas and Georgette; Arianne is the first female in three generations. Andreas arrived sometime in 1924 from his native Patras and, in 1930, married a French Canadian girl whose ancestors were French, English and Dutch. Of their three boys, I'm the only one with children. I married a French Canadian girl whose ancestors are French, Algonquin, Scot and Swiss German.

My son married a girl whose father is French Canadian and her mother a German from Essen. Nicole was born in Paris while her father was posted in Moscow as a commercial attaché at the Canadian embassy. Does this represent the Canadian diversity or not?
The children are here playing in our backyard, our little greek corner. It's not Lakeviewer's garden but there we forget the 6 lane boulevard in front of the house and we can imagine that we are in the country.

Enjoy the good time wherever it is available.

Au revoir.

Viva Italia

This week in Montreal it's Italian week. Canadians of Italian origins, immigrants and second and third generation of Italian descent represent the largest ethnic group in Montreal, some 300 000 people. Probably a population larger than many Italian towns. Many activities are held in around little Italy and even the weather seems compliant.

A tutti gli Italiani, megliori auguri e buon settimana.

One size fits all

Not long ago I wrote about our politicians changing parties and allegiance. We have a fresh new example of this interchangebility. In another life our Qébec Liberal Premier was a progressive Conservative minister in Brian Mulroney's government, at one point he was even a canditate to succeed Brian. He lost the leadership race and reappeared as a saviour for the then embattled Québec Liberals. As such he has won three straight mandates (majority/minority/majority).

Lately we have learned that he will be co-presiding over a celebration of Mulroney's political accomplishments. We all know that Mulroney is now persona non grata for Mr Harper who has forbidden his ministers from having any but private relations with Brian because the Schreiber affair.

Harpoon himself is having his very own problems with the progressive wing of his party and could be in for a rough time should he lose the next election or even stay in minority territory. Could Charest be positioning himself for another "saviour" operation only this time with the Federal conservatives? No Québec Premier, since Maurice Duplessis has ever won a fourth mandate.

As they say on TV: "Watch the next episode.

Here we go again

On November 1st all Québecers will be going to the polls to elect their municipal councils for the next 4 years. Montreal and Longueuil are already the focus of some attention. In Montreal Louise Harel, a former P.Q. municipal affairs minister who rammed through municipal mergers strongly opposed by the grassroots, is running for mayor within the Vision Montréal party. In Longueuil Caroline St-Hilaire former Bloc Québécois representative for Marie-Victorin county in Ottawa and wife of Maka Kotto an African born former B.Q. MP for the same area in Ottawa and currently a parti Québécois MPP for the neighbouring county, is also running for mayor for the Action Longueuil party.

Harel can barely speak english and is seeking support among the anglophone population. She needs federalists to win. Julius Grey, an eminent civil rights lawyer and known federalist has accepted to act as her special advisor. Grey is also the town of Hamstead's legal advisor. The City Council, heavily Jewish as is Hampstead's population, has voted a motion to terminate his mandate. Mayor Steinberg has vetoed the motion. There the matter stands.

In Longueuil, a heavily sovereignist city, St-Hilaire has more leeway but she still seeks anglo support. Two candidates from the Greenfield Park mainly anglo precinct have joined her and were promptly branded as traitors.

After the outrage over the attempted exclusion of anglo groups from "la Fête Nationale" in June, does not this reek of the same racism the francos are accused of?

What is sauce for the gander is also sauce for the goose.

Vallium anyone?

Last night the Saint Anne's ceremonies at the Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré basilica, near Québec city, were stopped, the basilica evacuated and the bomb squad called in. A strange parcel had been left unattended inside the church. As it turned out someone had forgotten a rosary in a pew (probably an American pilgrim, most Québecers nowadays don't even know what is a rosary).

Not so long ago a Montreal Metro station was shut...for a lunch bag left behind on a bench. Two weeks ago a man tied his backpack to his bicycle tied to a parking meter. When he came back the bomb squad had been called and had blown his bag open.

The Université du Québec à Montréal and two or three high schools were closed and evacuated during last spring exam sessions because of bomb alert...bogus everytime. We are in a state of near panic, including our ever more controling governements at all levels.

Seems to me that the so called "terrorists" are winning the war on nerves. Perhaps we all need to breathe through the nose, go take a walk in the country and relax a bit.

Time out

Like many others, I'll be away for the next 10 days. The whole family is leaving for a get togheter up north. Behave yourselves while we are gone.

Jell'O

Can you believe it? The food commentator for the Montreal Gazette has discovered Jell'O! This morning in the Arts and Life section of the paper she has an article titled "breaking the Jell'O mould". She adds: "Not for kids These refreshing jellied desserts made with fruits and wines are turning up on every adult restaurant menus. Did we mention they're fat free?". No kidding?

I had a quick flasback to 1962. A young psychologist from an Eastern bloc country had come to our institution for one month in an educator exchange with that country. I met him at Dorval. He had been allowed to take 10$ out of his country and asked, in much broken english what he could do with it? I motioned him to put it back in his pocket. He went back home with it.

We took turns enternaining him. Being able to understand his "english" I was designated his mentor and "unterpretor". So I took him out the next evening. We went to the Queen Elizabeth's, then a plush Montreal hotel, Panorama Lounge. Long since closed it was a wonderfull place on the 21st floor and had a magnifiscent view over downtown Montreal and our splendid Mont Royal, a 763 feet high elevation around which Montreal has grown.

The place also had, fortunately, a very affordable buffet. On the dessert table were several champagne flutes filled with fruits, multicolored jelly in between the layers of fruit, topped with whipped cream, the real thing. You guessed it: it was Jell'O. Our man ate 7 or 8 flutes and would have eaten more...but he could barely move by then...after all the other things he had eaten.

Finally he pointed at the Jell'O and asked: "Rich man dessert?" When I said no, he did not believe me. Afterward when he was invited to dinner at one or at the other of our colleagues I would phone ahead and tell them to have Jell'O if they really wanted to please the guy. Most recoiled in horror...but complied.

When he left, we gave him a case of 144 packets of Jell'O. Since the thing was ubknown in his country it was impounded upon his arrival. We had to go through diplomatic channels so he could get his present back and enjoy it with his little family. Two years later one of our guys went to complete the exchange. He took 144 packets of Jell'O with him. This time around he had to pay excise tax. He found that Jell'O was now available in specialty shops opened to tourists and party members. They were a luxuty item and sold, for the priviledged, for 5$ a packet.

Who said the Kamarades were not preoccupied with the well being of the small guys?

Maxville

Yesterday the wife and I had lunch with my very first fiancée and her husband. Back then, she was in grade 8 or 9 and I was 7 or 8 years of age. We were vacationing in Maxville, Glengarry county, Ontario where she lived at her uncle and mine. We were cousins several times removed. My childish heart was maddly thumping in her presence. That day we had gone to George's Ice Cream Parlour owned by her best girl friend's father. I had found the most beautifull engagement ring in a Cracker Jack box and I decided that it would be perfect for her and asked her to marry me. Of course nothing came out of it and Thérèse was not a bit jealous when we lunched with Madeleine and Marcel.

In 1939 Maxville was a nice sleepy village where life was regulated my the morning trains from Montreal and Ottawa and the afternoon trains from the same cities. The whole village was at the station each time then proceeded to the post office to get their mail. While the mail was sorted people would sit outside the post office and we kids would listen to old folks telling about the olden times. Two stood out, Mr MacPherson, the former blacksmith whose business had gone the way of the dodo bird and Mr Dupuis a former Montreal horse drawn tramway conductor. How Dupuis got to Maxville we never learned but he was a fantatastic story teller as was MacPherson.

Now above the post office there was the Masonic Lodge. We kids were fascinated by that place...and the legend that should a non mason go into the premises that person would die in the next 24 hours. One fine and awfully hot August day a window was opened above a low shed behind the post office. We managed to hoist ourselves up unto that roof and through the window. What a disappointment. The room was bare save for chairs with small metal plaques reading: in memory of our dear departed brother so and so and a picture of the king. We climbed back out...awaiting our death...and, at least, I am still waiting. Of course I have no idea what has become of the others.

About 4 years ago I rented a minivan and took the whole family, daughter-in-law and grandson included, and drove to Maxville. It was still the sleepy village I had known. Long dead Uncle Fred's house had burned down and the lot stood vacant. the train station had been torn down and replaced by a wooden shelter a bit down the tracks, Maxville had become a whistle stop. The post office had moved to a smaller building and lawyers offices replaced it...and the Masonic Lodge. The school. opposite uncle Fred's place was still there and the playground and the curling rink...but no one was around. I was a bit dejected driving back to Montreal.

Nowadays Maxville seems to wake up once a year at the beginning of August for the Highland Games disputed there over the last 10 years, if I'm not mistaken.

But the village still lives in my memory as it was in Fred's and Dupuis's and MacPherson's time along wit the 4 trains , the post office and that tantalizing Masonic lodge. If you ever drive that way, be very attentive, you may drive right through the village without even noticing it.

Independance (the sequel)

Commenting on my last post Rob-Bear wondered why I had not mentioned the Quebec Act of 1794. At first it did not ring a bell. Then I figured he must have been referring to the 1791 Act creating the provinces of Upper and Lower Canada, now mostly Ontario and Québec. Upper Canada was to be majority Anglphone and Lower Canada was to be majority Francophone. Both provinces were to be governed by an elected parliament and a nominated legislative council under a governor named by London, he in turn appointed the members of the legislative council (kind of an unelected senate) and vetted the election of the Lower Chamber members. To be eligible to office or to vote, you had to be a male over 21 and owner of propety or commerce generating a revenue of 40 schillings or more ( in: Histoire du Canada par les textes, by Guy Frégault, Michel Brunet and Marcel Trudel, éditions Fides, Montréal, 1952).

However, because of the eligibilty conditions, very soon both governements were dominated by the elite and the wealthy. It caused much irritation at the popular level and much corruption since the sole revenue allowed these administrations were the perception of excise taxes. Since the merchants were dominant and considered those taxes as very bothering every means were legitimate to avoid them. The governements were always short of money and could not provide the general services they were called to give the population.

After some forty years of this regime, in both provinces the pot boiled over. In Upper Canada the Family Compact, closely related people controling the Governor, the Legislative Council and the Judiciary, generated much opposition but were deaf to it. A short armed uprising, in 1837, under the leadership of William Mackenzie, a York (now Toronto) journalist ensued. The army quelled it and Mackenzie fled to Buffalo. In Lower Canada, the Clique du Château de Ramezay was the exact replica of the Family Compact and caused the same type of frustration. It was compounded by the refusal of the Clique to recognize the Francophones needs and place in the society. Lead politically by Louis-Joseph Papineau a strong movement of opposition took form. parrallel to it a miltary wing, lead by the Nelson brothers, both doctors, and an Irish merchant, J.B. O'Callaghan took form involving many Francophone farmers and workers. While papineau disapproved, the militia attacked the army, in 1837, battles were fought in St-Eustache and on montreal's South Shore. Lives were lost and General Colborne, nicknamed Le Vieux Brulôt (The Old Torch), burned down farms and villages in reprisal. It petered out in 1838. Papineau fled to Britain then France, the Nelsons, with 300 armed men, fled to North Hero, Vt.

London sent in Lord Durham to inquire. His report is famous and led to the dimantlement of Upper and Lower Canada and the Union act of 1841 destined to mate the Francophones and assimilate them to the Anglophone population...problem was that in the new entity the Francophones were a majority. It did not work and in 1867 the Confederation was born re-creating Upper and Lower Canadas as the provinces of Ontario and Québec, joined by New Brunswick and Noca Scotia.

1791 was a total failure, some would say 1867 also...but that is another story.

Independance

This week, commenting on my post about Canada Day, Rosaria asked wether Canada had an Independance Day. I answered that we did not have one. That question has been bugging me ever since. Why does canada have no Independance Day?

After much thinking and mulling over recollection of various sources, I guess I have worked out a suitable explanation. F

For most former colonies, Canada began as a French colony and morphed, in 1763, into a British colony, independance came through a violent process called war. The American Independance War is a prime example. The end of that war marked the beginning of independance, thus Independance Day.

In Canada, independance came bit by bit over some 400 odd years. The first native born French governor of New France was the initial step. The 1791 Act of the British parliament that recognized the right of Catholics, in Canada, to hold public office without renouncing their faith was another one. Then gradually we evolved toward representative government that process culminating in the 1867 British North America Act creating the Confederation of Canada. But that newborn coutry still relied on the British parliament for it's foreign policy and it's laws could be annuled by the Lords.

Another stepping stone was the 1931 Statute of Westminster that recognized Canada's jurisdiction over it's foreign policy and created the Dominion of Canada, a sovereign country within the British Commnwealth of Nations, but the constitution remained under British authority. In 1982, Under Prime Minister Trudeau, Canada got it's very own Constitution adopted by our parliament and 9 out of 10 provinces, Québec holding out it's signature. Nevertheless, Queen Elizabeth II signed it in Ottawa on Canada Day 1982. Why Québec held back from signing ? Well that will be another post.

Now, 86 % of Quebecers and 66% of other Canadians seem to be in favor of severing ties with the British monarchy when Queen Elizabeth abdicates or die. That would eradicate of the last colonial vestige or reminder.

As I believe to have demonstrated Canadian independance was not a brutal event that can be tied to one date or treaty. It has been a slow process and it is still ongoing in some ways. As I previously wrote, despite real obstacles, Canada is a work in progress and well worth keeping workint at.

Canada Day

142 years ago the B.N.A. Act gave the Canadians what they, or at least their leaders of the time, wished for i.e. representative government and a federation of their four existing, now, provinces: Ontario, Québec, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Prince Edward Island would join later, as would, in 1949, Newfoundland and Labrador. The new federal goverment was given authority over the remaining territories right up to thr Rockies. British Columbia promised to join...if linked to the ROC by a railway. Thus the Canadian Pacific Railway was born, in the process, Manitoba came to be, followed by Sakatchewan and Alberta carved out of the territories given the Hudson Bay Company by George III of England in 1670 although it did not at that time formally belong to Britain and was claimed by France.

What remained eventually became the Yukon, The Nortwest Territory and Nunavut, not full provinces but largely self administered territories. New First nations territories and administrations are slowly coming into their own under various forms: Nunavut is one of them, the Nunavik regional authority in Québec's former Ungava is another one as is the Nisga'a Treaty in B.C.

Thus Canada Day is a celebration of a work in progress and of diversity of cultures, folklores and traditions. Such is the quilt work that we call our country. That is the country I love and I would not, warts and all, have it any other way.

Décrochage

Le décrochage scolaire, la plaie de notre société. depuis des années nous en cherchons le remède. La dernière solution pproposée, payer les jeunes pour qu'ils restent à l'école, me laisse perplexe. La méthode appliquée dans certaines écoles en milieu défavorisé de Toronto et des États Unis semble donner des résultats spectaculaires. Les modalités varient mais semblent essentiellement tourner autour d'incitatifs monétaires futurs reliés à la poursuite des études jusqu'à diplômation secondaire et de bourses pour aller plus loin. Cependant, cette méthode n'éradique pas le phénomène, 10% continuent à décrocher. Nous salarions nos jeunes de ctte façon. J'admets que les allocations hebdomadaires de mes enfants étaient jusqu'à un certain point liées à leurs résultats scolaires mais pas à la continuation de leur scolarité. L'école était considérée comme leur travail. S'ils arrêtaient, il était clair qu'ils devraient trouver un travail et gagner leur croûte.

La motivation ou son absence conditionne la poursuite des études. Plusieurs de nos jeunes perdent cette motivation quand l'école ne répond pas à leurs attentes ou ne correspond pas à leurs intérêts.

La nécessité de mettre tous nos jeunes dans le même moule en leur faisant suivre des programmes soigneusement standardisés et "modularisés" me semble une des causes de ces abandons des études. Qu'on ne s'y trompe pas ce ne sont pas seulement des cancres qui abandonnent les études ni nécessairement des pauvres. Beaucoup sont tout simplement dégoûtés par une institution qui ne les alimente pas suffisamment et ils vont chercher ailleurs ce qui leur manque.

Et je ne blâme pas ici les enseignants ni les directions d'école qui ne font qu'appliquer des régimes éducatifs imposés par les autorités guidées par des experts. Non, c'est l'uniformité désespérantes des voies d'apprentissage que je déplore. Le système ne laissse aucune place à l'adaptation aux besoins de nos jeunes dont chacun est un individu avec un fonctionnement qui défie toute standardisation.

Nous avons des jeunes qui pourrait atteindre un niveau secondaire en travaillant dans une usine ou un bureau en accomplissant des tâches concrètes qui leur feraient vivre les notions abstraites ou appliquer des notions de grammaire sur le vif, avec nos logiciels auto-correcteurs ils les verraient en rouge ou en vert sur l'écran. Suite à ces stages une vérification des acquis pourrait conduire à l'octroi du diplôme Je me souviens d'un de mes gars dans un centre de rééducation qui avait compris les proportions, anciennement la règle de trois, en fabricant des décors de théâtre et qui avait du coup débloqué en mathématiques.

C'est possible, mais cela exige un investissement en terme de professeurs/superviseurs, en terme d'ouverture patronal/syndical, en terme d'ajustements budgétaires. Cela ne coûterait pas nécessairement beaucoup plus cher; ce serait une façon différente d'affecter les argents.

Le moulage n'est pas la meilleur façon de faire des individus forts et autonomes...mais je suis un vieux fous qui rêve en couleur.

Dolce farniente

Yesterday, Longueuil enjoyed a very nice 30 degrees Celsius. Voltaire and his "Quelques arpents de neige" vision of our country would have been totally confused. As any meteorologist will tell you, such weather generates instability and clouds form. So yesterday afternoon, with my wife, we brought out the lawn chairs and sat in the shaded back of the house with good books and a beer.
I took to watching the clouds. In my childhood I could spend hours watching the clouds. A partly cloudy sky is like being in a cinema; everything moves and the scenery is forever changing. You travel without moving. So I went, all the time lounging and sipping my beer, from lac des Sables in Ste-Agathe to Québec City. A clearing in the clouds was shaped like the Laurentian lake and a long divide had the shape of the St-Laurent river flowing from lac St-Pierre down to Québec where it narrows and just after it bends toward the north east and widens all the way down to it's estuary. Kebec in Huron means "where the river narrows". Champlain heard it and kept the word to designate his establishment.
It was pure bliss despite the noise of the boulevard passing in front of our home. You see I have been graced with the gift of cutting off noises around me. At times people have to touch me to bring me back. In large groups or noisy surroundings it is a blessing.

Il y a de l'espoir

L'Iran a ses Ayatollahs, l'Afghanistan ses Mollahs. Nous avons la Société St-Jean-Baptiste, gardienne de la langue et de ce qu'il reste de la pureté de la race. La semaine dernière, la Société a voulu excommunier deux groupes d'artistes anglophones et les empêcher de se produire lors d'une fête populaire à l'occasion de la Fête du 24 juin. Comme la Société finance en partie l'événement, les organisateurs avaient éléminé les deux groupes du programme.
La réaction populaire, politique (même du Parti Québécois et du Bloc) et artistique a été si forte que les organisateurs ont convoqué une rencontre d'urgence du comité...et les deux groupes ont été réinscrits au programme. Enfin une victoire des modérés et du bon sens sur les éléments ultra nationaleux vociférants.
Le vrai test, cependant, viendra le 23 au soir car des éléments avaient promis du grabuge si les Anglos participaient. Auront-ils compris qu'ils ne représentent pas la pensée profonde des québécois? Espérons-le et croisons-nous les doigts.

La Fête nationale.

I have forever complained about our sovereignists hijacking what is billed as "La Fête de tous les Québécois". The recent antics of our Société St-Jean-Baptiste has proven, once more, that for our Patriotes only Francophones, and not all francophones for that matter, can be Québécers. Threatening to withraw sponsorship from a community event should Anglo performers, even willing to perform in French, were kept on the program is discrimination at it's very glorious best.
J'ai souvent affirmé que mon patronyme grec m'excluait, pour de nombreuses personnes, du groupe des québécois, moi et tous les autres possesseurs d'un nom exotique peu importe leur langue d'usage, or me voici, encore une fois, confirmé dans cette opinion. Depuis 1976, la Fête dite nationale n'est plus ma Fête...and it will stay that way for a long time still...or until the sovereignists come to their senses that they will never get their dream without the Anglos and guys like me.

Spaghetti!

Last night was volunteering night at the SPCA for my cat loving daughters. They then go straight from their offices to the SPCA. The wife and I have a meal to our liking without having to cater to our celibate twins fancies. We had leftover hamburger meat from a taco meal Saturday night to please our grandson. We had some red pepper garlic in olive oil, (of course the oil was spanish not greek but then you don't look a gift horse in the mouth), brought to us from Spain by our daughter-in-law and a little pizza sauce, Gattuzzo that is. So I told the wife I would make spaghetti à la Costo.
I brought some water laced with a bit of salt and lots of garlic powder to a boil; I then dumped in some whole wheat spaghetti. My wife hates al dente, so when the pasta was a little overcooked, I drained and set it aside. Then, I sauteed the olives in their oil adding sliced mushrooms, when everything was suitingly light brown I added the meat, already cooked, warmed it along with the olives and mushrooms and finally added the pizza sauce...and some red wine. When in doubt I always add wine. Every thing being nicely mixed and hot I mixed in the spaghetti then sprinkled it with grated parmesan, provolone, asiago and mozzarella and put it to broil in the oven about 8 minutes. It was pronounced delicious. We washed it down with Muscadet, my wife, and I with Côtes du Ventoux.
Not orthodox Mediterranean cooking...but very good.

Apprendre une langue

Un ami blogueur européen nous apprenait récemment que sa fille, désireuse d'améliorer son français langue seconde, ou plus, avait acheté la traduction française, God save la France, du livre de Stephen Clarke One year in the merde. Intrigué, j'ai été à la Grande bibliothèque du Québec, à Montréal. Pas un grand exploit, 25 minutes par Métro/autobus, station de Métro au sous-sol de la bibliothèque, autobus devant chez-moi. Les deux exemplaires en anglais étaient sortis, mais les six en français étaient disponibles.
Le livre constitue une charge à fond de train contre le système français. Le premier chapître est très drôle mais la rosserie prend le dessus d'octobre à mai. Les chapîtres portent le nom des mois qui se succèdent. Si la demoiselle voulait apprendre tout le vocabulaire érotique du parigot, elle a bien choisi. La traduction me semble asses bien faite et les coquilles, s'il y en a, assez mineures pour passer inaperçues.
C'est un bon divertissement, pour l'apprentissage???

Celebrations?

On 6 June, we remembered D Day. Others were, maybe, remembering the beginning of the end of a dream, evil as that dream may have been. Now don't misread me. I shudder at the thought that this dream could have come true and we were right to crush it. That is not my point.
I just happenned to think that one person's cause for jubilation can be another's cause for sorrow. For instance, I win the lottery jackpot; it means another one did not. My team wins, the supporters of the losing team can't be as happy as I am, no?
When rejoicing we tend to forget about the other less fortunate ones. Should we look at how we rejoice and celebrate and how, at times, it may affect some other peoples? When an U.S. group planned a commemoration of our Plains of Abraham battle, on the Plains, in Québec, it caused such a ruckus that they withdrew their project. For over 300 years, in Ireland, riots have erupted when the Orangemen commemorate the Battle of the Boyne. Is all that really necessary?

Vive la République.

La France va célébrer, le 6 juin, l'anniversaire du débarquement en Normandie qui, en 1944, marqua le début de la fin du IIIe Reich. Pour l'occasion, M. Sarkosy a invité le président des États Unis d'Amérique, M. Barak Obama et le premier ministre britannique, M. Gordon Brown. Le président français a irrité les britanniques en n'invitant pas la reine Élizabeth II. L'Élysée a expliqué timidement que la Grande-Bretagne avait été invitée en la personne de son premier ministre. Pauvre M. Sarkosy qui ignore que le premier ministre de Grande-Bretagne n'est pas le chef d'état de la Grande-Bretagne, contrairement à lui-même et à M. Obama dans leur pays respectif.
En même temps, la France semble avoir oublié l'importante contribution canadienne et australienne au débarquement de Normandie M. Sarkosy et compagnie devraient peut-être suivre un petit cours d'histoire et de politique? Que vous en semble?

the perils of blogging

Well the first annual international Aunty Day has come and gone. The whole family was there and the Aunties were duly honored...and thouroughly enjoyed it. Of course the whole thing was to be a surprise.
However, yesterday my beloved daughters went to a lady friend of theirs. Now Sylvie is fond of the Internet and blogging in particular. Proud of their father they told Sylvie about my blog...so Sylvie promptly found it and the secret also. They told us only when the whole thing was over. The surprise was ours.
Morality: don't put a secret on your blog.

Auntie Day

Tomorrow, the Costopoulos family launches a new tradition: Aunts Day. Henceforth the last Sunday in May will be Aunt Day. We have Mother's Day, Father's Day, Grandparents Day and all manners of Days...but no one has thought about aunts. Yet when I look at my spinster daughters doting over their nephew and niece, the love and devotion they have for those kids, I say it is high time to do something to honor that aspect of familyhood. So tomorrow we wil have the Aunts Special Dinner, Alexis (13) will produce a special card for the occasion, Arianne (3) will be , hopefully, on her best behaviour and mom, dad, brother, sister-in-law will pitch toghether to get them the DVDs of a TV series they loved. Which one? My son is on it so I can't tell at this very moment. Pass the word around, spinster aunties are af orgotten and neglected part of our society. Let's right the wrong.

Où allons-nous?

J'ai beaucoup réfléchi ces derniers jours. Chaque printemps ramène les mêmes préoccupations: la fête de la reine vs la fête des Patriotes, la Fête nationale, autrefois la St-Jean-Baptiste, vs la Fête du Canada, les manifestations souverainistes vs les professions de foi envers le Canada. La défense de la langue française vs les revendications légitimes des québécois de langue anglaise.
À l'instar des plantes qui bourgeonnent, nos vieilles querelles ressurgissent et, comme l'herbe-à-poux et l'herbe-à-puce, viennent nous empoisonner la vie.
Pourquoi, habitants d'un pays envié partout dans le monde, devons-nous tout faire pour nous rendre la vie désagréable? Au cours des dernières 6 années nous avons réussi à détruire l'image de travailleur pour la paix que nous avions chèrement acquis à travers les missions de gardien de la paix de nos soldats et de ressource fiables de médiation par les prises de positions de notre gouvernement minoritaire conservateur.
Nous n'avons jamais été un pays totalement uni...mais nous avons toujours trouvé un compromis permettant de passer au travers des crises. Pourquoi cela devient-il si difficile maintenant?
Anybody out there with a suitable answer?

Tagged

Rosaria tagged me today. Reminds me of my youth: tag, you're it.
So six unimportant things which make me happy:
1) Chatting with my grandson;
2) The smile, not frequent, of my granddaughter;
3) A black-headed grosbeak couple at my backyard feeder;
4) A ride in my beloved Laurentian Hills, we call them mountains but the Rockies' folks figure it's a gross exaggeration;
5) Meeting old friends;
6) Crossword puzzles.

Six blogs to play along:
1) The Commentator;
2) Marc-Aurele;
3) Neil McKenty;
4) Tony Kondaks;
5) Chimera;
6) Barbara.
Hope I did it right.

Company

This morning I felt nobody was reading this blog. Tonight, I have three members. Of course, from the onset, Rosaria was kind enough to comment on my bread making; it helped a lot. Then The Commentator wrote: "A face to the man", so he had been on the blog.
I must admit that I am still testing the ground. I have many ideas about which I would like to write or comment, problem is organizing them...and documenting them. One that I have been toying with: how canada went from peace keeper to warmonger? Lestr B. Pearson then our foreign affairs minister won the Nobel Peace Prize, in 1957, for inventing the U.N. Peacekeepers. Then we went into Afghanistan under a U.N. mandate...but stayed under NATO and became an occupation force disguised as a nation building mission???
Well I'll keep working on it. (To be continued...I hope)

Happinesss

I just got back from a trip, with a small group of M.I.L.R. people, to le Musée ferroviaire canadien in Delson, about 35 minutes from Lomgueuil. We had lunch, visited the old streetcars and locomotives and shared fond memories. All very friendly and hearth warming.
As I opened my computer, I surveyed the blogs I follow and had an added pleasure. I saw that a blogger friend who recently got the news that her husband came up with type 2 diabetes and she could be next, had seemingly come out of the gloom and was back to her former warm and charming self.
Sickness is not the enemy, our attitude towards it is. François Rabelais, a 15th century french doctor, treated his patients through laughter, he even wrote books to make them laugh because he felt morale was the main remedy and laughing helped it.
So keep smiling and your health will not deteriorate...so fast.

Stoop

Have noticed how the older you grow the lower are the floors?

Identité?

Demain, 18 mai, les canadiens jouissent d'un congé férié. Tout le Canada sera en congé...mais pas le même congé partout. Outside Québec, it's the official Queen's birthday (Victoria that is). In Québec, some will celebrate Victoria Day, some will celebrate Dollard des Ormeaux (He fought against the Iroquois and reportedly saved Montreal, although this has since been put in doubt), others will celebrate Les Patriotes. Voici quelques années, un gouvernement du Parti Québécois a proclamé le troisième lundi de mai Fête des Patriotes, en mémoire des combattants de la Rébellion de 1837. Cette année-là les colonies de l'Amérique du Nord Britannique sont en effervescence. De L'Ontario à l'Île-du-Prince-Édouard on s'agite pour obtenir le gouvernement responsable. Les maritimes opteront pour la voie parlementaire et diplomatique...avec un certain succès.
Ontario and Québec were then ruled by two powerful cliques grouped around the Governors and the big merchants who were quite satisfied with things as they were. Those wishing for change had no ways of making their points as the Maritimers had...so they became more aggressive. In Ontario William Lyon-Mackenzie and a ragged troop took arms and shots were fired around a York tavern where they had congregated to oppose the Army. Mackenzie fled to Buffalo where he proclaimed the Autonomous State of Upper Canada. He was promptly arrested and jailed by the USAers`for breaching their neutrality.
Au Québec, les Fils de la Liberté s'opposèrent à la clique du Château de Ramezay dont la composition était assez proche de celle du Family Compact ontarien. Les Papineau, Callaghan et Nelson galvanisèrent la population et l'affrontement devint inévitable. Papineau ne voulait pas de confrontation armée, les frères Nelson et l'Irlandais Callaghan étaient plus belliqueux. Ce sont eux qui prirent les armes suivis par ceux qui devaient devenir "les Patriotes" suite à la récupération de l'évènement par le mouvement souverainiste du Parti et du Bloc Québécois. Un des frères Nelson, suite à la défaite des armes, se réfugia au Vermont, avec 300 hommes, d'où, à l'instar de Mackenzie, il proclama l'État Souverain du bas-Canada. Il fut promptement arrêté et jeté en prison...pour importation illégale darmes
So tomorrow we all have a day off, well not really since us retirees do not have days off anymore.
However that day has been stripped of it's festive attire and become, in Québec at least just another occasion for politicking. .

We almost saw the tulips.

Yesterday was a gloriously sunny and warm spring day. The early sun shone on my backyard neighbours' trees. A very tall one was all red blossoms while a shorter one was shocking pink. The third one, the shortest, was all white blossoms. Today is grey, 46 kilometers an hour winds from the south and a storm seems to be brewing. All the red blossoms are gone and tender green leaves have sprung. The shocking pink is darker and the white ones are less numerous. Before lunch we had to run after our sundeck chairs blown away by the wind.
But let's get back to yesterday. We had our monthly brunch scheduled in St-Jérôme, 60 kilometers and 5 bridges away. The usual merry bunch was there and we chatted our heads off. Two, man and wife, were freshly back from Guatemala where they had spent the last 4 months as lay missionaries. Another was back, 3 weeks ago, from Mexico where he had spent the winter. That 3 weeks delay allowed us all to shake hands with him.
After lunch the wife and I made up our mind to go Ottawa, another 2 hours drive, to see the annual tulip festival, the 57th. During the last war (39-45) that is, a Dutch princess was born there to the Dutch queen then a war refugee in Canada. Our goverment decreed that the hospital room where the birth would take place would be ceded to Holland for the duration of the birth so that the baby would be Dutch. The Dutch have kept a soft spot in their hearts for Canada and Canadians because of that and our participation in the liberation of Holland from Nazi occupation. As a token of gratitude Holland, in 1946, sent thousands of tulip bulbs to flower Parliament Hill and the surroundings. Over time the Tulips spread all over Ottawa and now, each first two weeks of May, a Tulip Festival is held.
So off we went. We traveled over the back roads, much nicer than the highways, and more relaxing. Those roads move up and down along ridges and valleys, quaint little villages and summer resorts. We stopped, for some leg stretching, in Montebello. This is where my 78 years opted to manifest themselves. When I got out of the car I could barely walk straigth. Had a police officer been there he would have submitted me to a breathalyser test. After much wobbling I managed to walk reasonably well...but the wife ordered us back to base. We were about an hour away from Ottawa. Suddenly I was to tired to argue. So back we came. Well today is a grey day...but I walk straight, or mostly, and I should be chipper by tomorrow. No Tulip Festival for us this year.

Where is the North?

When I was a child and a teen, Québec was a simpler place. You were white, save if you were a porter at one of our train or bus stations or a chinese restaurant or laundry operator. You were Catholic or Protestant, French or English speaking. Well there were some in betweens, like me for instance. For us, the going could be tough...but if you had some resiliency you could soldier on and even make a place for yourself. You knew the Union nationale blue (Québec name for the conservative religious right--most Québecers), or Liberal red (the bad anticlerical left, a discredited minority that went out only in daytime). The Bishops and priests at election time warned us that the sky was blue but hell was red.
Then came 1960. The so-called Quiet Revolution saw the dreaded Liberals elected to form the next government. Things began changing. Electricity was nationalized. Schools, hospitals and social services were nationalized. Then immigrants started pouring in and the churches emptied although the two are not linked. Everything went very fast...and suddenly the Separatists came out of the woodwork and, in 1972 we had a Péquiste government.
T'was then that things got blurred. You had politicians switching sides and allegiance, people calling themselves Catholic or Protestant and not worshipping anymore. The head of the federal Conservative became the Liberal Prime Minister. The former president of the Liberal Youths became head of the A.D.Q. (Conservative party in disguise). A Liberal Minister created the Parti Québécois, and a Federal Conservative Minister created the Bloc Québécois...of Socialist leaning.
Then we had two referenda on sovereignty with questions so obscure that only a theologian could make heads or tails of them, and both with rather inconclusive results. We are still wondering who really won the last one.
These days no one really seems to know who is who and where all that will lead us. Got any idea where the North is?

Les temps changent, Oh Yeah!

Le calme est revenu. Mon fils et sa petite famille (comme disent mes filles) sont repartis. Le tourbillon Ariane s'active maintenant dans la voiture de ses parents et Alexis se désespère de devoir attendre d'arriver chez lui pour manger son Jell'O citron.
Le repas fut une oeuvre collective: mes filles ont préparé le gâteau aux carottes que leur mère aime tant, ma femme a dégourdi les homards et j'ai cuit, au BBQ les médaillons de boeuf.
While barbecuing I was thinking of man in the kitchen. My grandmother and my mother-in=law could not bear to have a man in their kitchen; my mother did not want a kitchen, period; my wife enjoys my help and would be much mortified if I did not participate. My daughters can't even begin to imagine that I would not cook the meats.
On this mothers' Day, I figure many fathers have donned an apron and done the dishes and most people will say: "No big deal".
Oui, les temps ont bien changé...et c'est très bien ainsi.

Poor mixer

Would you believe it? I am a Sunbeam mixer killer. Two weeks ago at the McGill Institute for Learning in Retirement Odette spoke of a recipe book based on la Comtesse de Ségur née Rostopchine's children books. Since the good Comtesse peopled my lonely sickly child's days, I was curious about those recipes so I went to la Grande Bibliothèque du Québec in Montreal and got the book.
I got hung on a bread recepi. Mind you I never baked bread in all of my 78 years but I very foolishly went on. The first try did not rise and could have been used to stone somebody. The second try got a little better and was, at least, edible. The third try is the best. My raisin bread is light and fluffy, a nice golden color and very tasty.
Alas! I added the raisins at the wrong moment...and some gears broke. We now have a very good raisin bread...but no more mixer.

J'arrive

Depuis un certain temps, des amis "bloggers" me disent de commencer. à mon tout, un blog. Bon bien, me voici! je me joins à la communauté bloggante.
À bientôt,
Paul Costopoulos