Too Hot for the P.C.'s... How to update an outdated anthem for a modern Canada

In honour of Canada Day, and getting my shit together, here is my magazine article written last semester. It's still a little rough, but it's the best I got today. Too hot for the P.C.'s How to update an outdated anthem for a modern Canada By: VERONICA BLAKE Every morning would begin the same way, in elementary school. We’d stand up straight, head up, shoulders back, arms stiff at our sides. We’d belt it out, loud and proud, true patriot love. I don’t recall when this changed. 9 a.m. the bell would ring. The William Tell Overture would play, as frantic students whipped down the hallways, frantically racing to class before the anthem. But by the time high school rolled around, we were transformed into a bunch of slouchy, surly teenagers. We didn’t sing it anymore. We stood there. Slouched, head down, weight shifting from one leg to another. It was the awkward moment that would begin our day. I stood up and sung when Alexandre Bilado won the first Olympic gold medal at the Vancouver Olympics. And we owned the podium, earning thirteen more opportunities to break out into proud patriotic song. “O Canada! Our fathers' land of old Thy brow is crown'd with leaves of red and gold. Beneath the shade of the Holy Cross Thy children own their birth No stains thy glorious annals gloss Since valour shield thy hearth. Almighty God! On thee we call Defend our rights, forfend this nation's thrall, Defend our rights, forfend this nation's thrall." That’s not the version I was singing. In fact, many Canadians probably don’t know any other version than today’s incantation of O Canada. But the anthem has gone through many evolutions since 1880, when the original French hymn was written by Calixa Lavallee and Judge Adolphe-Basile Routhier, whose poem provided the lyrics. This first English version was published in 1906. The lyrics that are sung today are amended from a poem written in 1908 by Robert Stanley Weir. O Canada didn’t even become our official national anthem until 1980. Now after Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s extended Christmas vacation, parliament has been rerogued. Back to business, Govenor General Michaelle Jean made the prerequisite throne speech. And Canadians sat up and listened. “Our government will also ask Parliament to examine the original gender-neutral English wording of the national anthem,” Throne Speech, March 3, 2010. It was a vague proclamation. But backlash ensued. Canadians may not have known what examining gender-neutral language would entail, but one thing was certain – the government was threatening to change the national anthem. The problem lay with a single line, ‘in all our son’s command.’ The original Weir poem used, ‘in all us dost command,’ which would be gender-neutral. But in the interests of being politically-correct, are Canadians willing to use an archaic word like ‘dost?’ As it turns out, Canadians were not prepared to insert the second-person singular, present-tense of the verb to do into our national anthem. In the end, Harper backed down, and nothing was changed. But surely this debate will arise again, and I’m prepared. 1. O Canada! Our home and native land! Canada is a diverse nation, with a high proportion of people born outside of Canada. This is no longer the native land of the majority of the population. Proposed Change: O Canada! The place where we all live 2. True patriot love in all thy sons command. Ah, the offensive, sexist lyric that started it all. And am I a true patriot? I am patriotic, but what does a true patriot entail? Proposed Change: Most of us like it here, in gender-neutral command 3. With glowing hearts we see thee rise, Not offensive, but who really says thee anymore? Other than people who use ‘dost’ in everyday conversation. And what’s with this reoccurring heart and love theme. I love my country, but I’m certainly not in love with it. Proposed Change: With lukewarm smiles we go on for miles 4. The True North strong and free! This “true” north seems like a dig at other northern nations. What about Russia? And what about the thawing of permafrost. That hardly feels like true north. Proposed Change: Global Warming makes us hot. 5. From far and wide, O Canada, We’re a big country, but the majority of our population is on the boarder. Proposed Change: Montreal and Vancouver, and To-o-ro-on-to! 6. We stand on guard for thee. This seems like we’re making promises, and taunts, that our army simply cannot handle. Proposed Change: Oh USA we’re not! 7. God keep our land glorious and free! Uh-oh. Not the g-word. Proposed Change: Gosh! Keep our land, polite and P.C. 8. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee. Can we make this anthem a little sexier, appeal to a younger generation? Proposed Change: Yo Canada, drink beer and watch hockey. 9. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee. And we may as well give a shout-out to our neighbours to the south. I hope they like that. Plus, it will make the transition to the 51st state even smoother for Canadians. Proposed Change: Oh Canada, (switch key signatures) For the land. Of the-e FREE! So now we have our final draft, updated for the 21st Century: O Canada! The place where we all live Most of us like it here, in gender-neutral command With lukewarm smiles, we go on for miles Global warming makes us hot Montreal and Vancouver, and To-o-ro-on-to! Oh USA we’re not! Gosh! Keep our land, polite and P.C. Yo Canada, drink beer, watch hockey O Canada, (pause) For the land. Of the-e FREE! Much better. Or way worse. You be the judge. The point is, that people hate change. Did anyone really care about the anthem before Harper threatened to tweak it? Go to any event, and you see people mumbling it or mouthing it or just standing there not even faking an effort. All it did was create a big stir, distracting Canadians from the true issue: the proroguing of parliament. At the end of the day, ask yourself if you’re protesting the change, or protesting change for change’s sake. And if you don’t like the anthem, belt out your own lyrics. Sing it so loud that it drowns out all other patriots. And your ears will never be offended by distasteful lyrics ever again. SIDEBAR: Where does Changing of O Canada measure on the Thermometer of Useless Change The Beach vs Beaches Debate In 1985 the City of Toronto posted 14 street signs declaring the area “The Beaches” The signs were removed shortly due to public outcry. In 2006 The Lions club attempted to post street signs designating it “The Beach”. A public pole was held, with 58% of residents voting for “The Beach”. Public outrage continues to this day. The Eaton Centre In 1999 Eaton’s declared bankruptcy, and was acquired by Sears. The Eaton Centre kept its name, but there were moments of worry about changing the mall’s name. Metro vs. Dominion In 1919 a grocery store opened, christened Dominion of Canada. In a 2008 acquisition, they were rebranded as Metro. Product lines were expanded, but people still refuse to call it Metro. Street Cars Most major metropolises use street cars for tourists. But not Toronto. David Miller loves streetcars; and any mention of discontinuing service gets some Torontonians in a tizzy. Licence Plates 1982 the motto on the Ontario licence plate changed from “Keep it Beautiful” to “Yours to Discover”. Drivers held onto their plates for years. In 1997 a seventh digit was added, and the outcry lay in remembering yet another digit. The Bloor Viaduct An Anti-Suicide barrier was installed in 2003. Over 500 suicides had been reported, making the viaduct the most fatal standing structure in the world. People complained that the beautiful view of the city would be destroyed. Health Cards People will use tattered, taped together old red-and-white health cards, to avoid getting the new one. Women have kept their last name in marriage, just to avoid changing their health card. The Rogers Centre People still call it the SkyDome, despite its 2005 purchase by Rogers. It just has a better ring to it than Rogers Centre Maple Leaf Gardens The Toronto Maple Leafs left the gardens over 10 years ago, but the building remains unused. Even the new plans for the arena marry a grocery store, with an ice rink, staying true to the original building. Chip and Pin Cards The new technology is safer and protects from card fraud, but the complainers cry, ‘I have to remember a PIN?’ Specialty Schools The first Africentric school opened in September, to public outcry. Talk of an all-boys and all-kindergarden schools have raised some eyebrows. The Toonie The two-dollar-bill was replaced by a coin in 1996, with people upset about their wallets and pockets being weighed down. Oh Canada A potential change of Oh Canada made people angrier than the toonie, but more outcry was received over changing Facebook. Facebook Facebook has gone through three major face-lifts over a ten-year span. Pretty average for a website. But each and every time, petitions, forums and pages spring up, protesting the change. Area Codes In 2001, Torontonians were forced to dial an area-code. The 647 code was also introduced, and getting a coveted 416 area-code was enough to keep your cell-phone. Hockey Night in Canada In 2008 The CBC lost the rights to the Hockey Night in Canada Theme song. For many a hockey-fan, it felt like losing our National Anthem. But more outcry was received for our unofficial anthem changing than our official.

Shame. Intimidation. And my girl Mary Jane

Aw fuck. More 6-degrees-of-separation randoms are reading this blog. Too much goddamned pressure. Starting to feel self-conscious. *Blush*Blush*Blush*

So G20 has come and gone. Not much was accomplished. Apparently, this is one for the history books. I guess it's one of those things that my kids will ask me, 'Mom, where were you during the G20 riots?'

At least I have a cool answer. I hope, I hope my kids think I'm supa-fly. And I hope against hope that my kids use groovy vocabulary, like, supa-fly.

Irish wants to only show her kids VHS and records. Told her she's gonna fuck them up somethin mighty. Also, made the point that her kids would miss out on Donnie Darko and Smashing Pumpkins. Gave her cause for pause.

Love my new phone. Qwerty keyboard makes texting a breeze. I can now devote my time on being witty and hilarious, instead of yelling "why are you such a piece of shit!" at my phone. I feel like I'm finally the person I was meant to me.

My phone is also teaching me how to spell! It won't let me write it, if I spell it wrong. Passive-aggressive much?

Facebook's friend suggestions have gone too far. Last night Facebook suggested I add a former one night stand as a friend. Ya... no.

Although, I always did wonder what his last name was. I guess Facebook made me a little less slutty last night. Amazingly, we had 5 mutual friends. Including 2007's summer fling. Goddamnit Scarborough. Why does everyone have to be so interconnected?

In related news, I do not know New Plot Point's last name. This is how I get myself into trouble. He bought new pillows, which is both a practical, and romantic gesture.

So just thinking here that I should fill up my gas tank, before gas is HST-ed.

Not EVEN going to comment on the HST, other than to say.... I am for-realsies-seriously considering voting Conservative in the next Provincial election. Also, new goal of becoming Canada's Next Top Journalist, simply so I can meet Dalton Mcguinty. No worries, I won't do/say anything inappropriate. Just wanna give him my evil glare #36. That one is reserved for idiot politicians (so, the majority of them.) and fuckwits in general (to steal from my journalistic idol, Bridget Jones.)

Anywho, onwards to the Petroleum Emporium! (Notice I break out my Sunday-best vocabulary when I know I'm being read?)

~~~and now I'm in a completely new state of mind... on a existential plane of existence... Music. A necessity. ~~~

At long last. I will recount my G20.. shenanigans. It all began on Friday.

I worked all afternoon to night. Got home 9:45. Hair, did. Makeup, done. Steamed my outfit, changed. Pizza bagel, ate. Camera, charged. Teeny tiny purple purse, packed. Heels. Short-shorts. Black tank. Hot necklace.

Lemonade, 3 gulps.
Add whisky.
Shake.
Taste.
More whisky.
Oh shit.
Too much whisky.
Shake.
Taste.
Fuck.
Yes, too much whisky.
Wish I had ice.

Scarborough Station, 10:15. Subway. 4 gay dudes speaking Spanish. 3 in pink polos. Does the other dude feel left out?

Drink.

Shit, that woman is looking at me funny. I'm drinking the equivalent of 3 poor-man's whisky sours on the train. And I'm dressed like a slut.

Drink.

Off at Bloor/Yonge.

Drink.

One cop.
Two Cop.

Hide drink. Wait for the train. With 6 coppers. Waaaay to tipsy for this.

Ditch the empty bottle. There's whisky molecules on it. Find recycling receptacle. Beside a lady-cop.

Get off at Wellesly. Walk. Realise I'm walking the wrong way. Walk back. Then realize I'm walking a wronger way. Walk back.

Curse you whisky. Find the club. Nervously have my bag checked. Find my friends. Irish shows. We drink on the patio. Then go dancing. Gay guy grinded up on me. Which I found more unsettling than a straight guy. Gay dudes are waaaaay more touchy. Ran into random coworker out birthday celebrating. Talked to loads of randoms. Got a free shot of Jägermeister.

Walked through Ryerson. Ate a wicked hot dog (no euphemisms.) Waited for the streetcar for like 5 minutes, then hailed a cab. Went to the park with Irish.

In bed, 5:30. Up at 9. To move the car for neighbour. Back to bed.

11:30. Urg. Irish, get up. We gotta get a move-on if we're gonna make this protest.

Wash the slut off, and don our protestin' clothes.

Pit stop at Timmys (BLT for breakfast...? Delightful!)

Got there at 1. It's raining. Wandered around Queen's Park. Just taking it all in. Speeches are being made. Chill hippy music's playing. Different languages are being spoken, and chanted. Everyone is here. Children. Elderly. All races, religions, creeds, languages. Different classes, ideologies.

We begin our walk. The peaceful protest.

The rain stops. I even take off my sweater.

Listen to the chants. "Hey hey, ho ho, Steven Harper's got to go!"
"Whose streets? Our streets? Whose town? Our Town!"
"Protesting is not a crime! Police officers on overtime!"
"Expropriate the banks!"
"We. Will not. Shut the fuck up!"
"This is what. Democracy looks like!"
"This is what. A police state looks like!"

"Shame!!" Is yelled when we pass by cops. Some protesters meet the cops face to face. And by "cop" I mean "cop in shorts with a bicycle."

But behind the girly cops, is the other extreme. 25+ cops. Standing stiff. At the ready. Full riot gear. Helmets. Muzzle (tear gas) or rubber bullet guns. I can't tell which. And every other with a shield and baton.



We walked by Steve's Music. All the employees were outside the store gawking. Some waved. Some smiled. Some flashed peace signs. Cool kids with mohawks and fauxhawks and piercings. Later, this would be the site of not one, but two burning police cars.

We walked on. Got caught in some union flags. Chanted behind well-dressed Indian men (one was wearing a suit!) Walked on. Got to the front. With the feminists. The women led the parade. Carrying a ginormous coat hanger. Pro maternal health. Coat hanger.

Giggle. Gross.

Got back to Queens Park, unscathed. 3 pm.

Meanwhile... At Queen and Spadina... A black block anarchist lights a flare.

The park slowly filled. Music was playing. Weed was smoking. Everyone was chill. Chill hippies.

3:15 Dude comes up to us. May or may not have handed us the world's longest joint, and bid us a, "happy G20."

May or may not have found a quiet corner in Queens park, laid our sweaters on the ground. It was like the sixties. Hippies chilled out on weed, after a peaceful protest.

Meanwhile... back at the ranch... Shop windows are smashed. Queen Street.

It starts to rain. I open the umbrella. We enjoy the hippy music, the protest music, the union songs of coal miners.

12 cops, only meters away. We begin to get paranoid. The sewer. The perfect hiding place. Which would, ironically, hide anarchists, later that night.

Sid Ryan made an impassioned speech. Riled us up. I wanted to yell "Fuck the government. Fuck the po-lice." I was restrained. We journeyed home.

Meanwhile... back at the ranch... 3:45... Cop cars. Burning. King and Bay.

So we got to Queens Park Station. Barricaded closed. No worries. Walked the next. Barricaded. Began our journey north on Yonge.

Little did we know. Pandemonium was erupting. Bay and King. Queen's Park. Spadina and Queen. All in all, 4 cop cars would be burned. Multiple shop windows smashed. Graffiti declaring ideologies. Arrests would be made. As well as conflicting reports about tear gas and rubber bullets. All under the threat of the sound cannon.

And the coppers would keep their cool. Some would even say that they kept a soft hand. But as we journeyed north, we were ignorant. Not to mention, in an alternate state of mind. We joked as we walked past the "Police Museum and Discovery Centre." Sounds like something lame my Dad would make us do on a summer vacation.

Incidentally, the Museum and Discovery Centre is so much more than a museum AND discovery centre. It is also police headquarters. Which, later, would be a place of violence.

We continued north. Good preparation for the end of the world, I decided. The subways are closed. We walk north. Exodus. I am Legend. We walk north. None walk south.

Then we see the cops. Stopping everyone walking south.

Finally, we get to Bloor/Yonge. We ask the cops if we can go in. We're escorted down a narrow path, surrounded in a blue cage. This is what a police state looks like.

Inside the station, an announcement.

This is what a police state sounds like: "There will be no service on the University line, south of Bloor. There will be no service from St. George to Union and Bloor to Union. This is due to a police directive."

By the time we arrive at Scarborough Station, grab our samosas and beef patties, we've heard stirrings. Of violence on the streets. So we sit in her car, for over an hour, listening live on the radio. Like the good 'ol days.

I was glued to the TV all night. CTV, CP24, CBC. And not to mention Twitter.

And FYI I have the BEST twitter feed for when the shit's goin' DOWN in Toronto. Constant, and almost instant updates. Better than the live coverage on CP24.

Well. This is long enough all ready. More later. And if I wasn't being monitored by the government before this post, I certainly am now. Damn SEO.

Hey hey, ho ho..

No matter how these people decide to protest the G20 in Toronto, nothing will ever change.

Even if we had the most peaceful, poetic protest, that wouldn't make the world leaders stop and say, 'hey guys, things have to CHANGE. these peaceful hippies make me realise that.'

No.

So I congratulate the anarchists. Because they're getting all the media attention. And the world is watching, and the world is listening. Maybe nothing will ever change. But at least people are getting off their asses and showing the world leaders that we're NOT happy. And we're going to say something about it.

And plus it shows the world that Torontonians, and by extension, Canadians, are not pussies. More on all this later.

I did go down to Queens Park today. Was a part of the lovely peaceful protest, then left before things got ugly. The subway was closed, so we walked from Queens Park subway to Yonge/Bloor. As we were walking north, there were cops stopping people from walking south. By the time we reached Warden, we heard rumblings of tear gas and cop cars on fire.

We sat in the car, for an HOUR just listening to the live coverage and Miller's speech. Fuckin crazy day.

And next week... good night moon

I am reading Generation Me, and I wanted to write a post about it. But I can't just log onto the computer without some serious shenanigans. First I had to check my facebook. Then texts from last night and fmylife. Of course I needed music. And then whilst on the interwebs, I was shocked to discover that there was an earthquake in Toronto today. From fmylife no less. Not the most credible of sources, and then after much poking around, I was shocked to discover that there was in fact an earthquake in Toronto this afternoon. And I missed it? Then, using my recent calls and texts, I pinpointed myself in the parking lot of Fairview mall. And I DID feel it. I had just parked and turned off the car, when I felt the car swaying. I thought it was a problem with the car. Or the wind (I was on the upper level parking.) So I guess this is really the summer of everything. Really should have made a bingo card. So I bailed on a certain Mr. Wikham for a rendezvous with quite a new plot point. And ever since then, my lucky streak is broken. But the great things just keep getting greater, and the randomness has reached a new level, that it`s almost back to predictable again. Got a new phone today. Nothing fancy. (But fancy compared to my last phone, which can only be described as prehistoric.) Negotiated my butt off, and left with a plan that is both cheaper and with more features than my last. Irish and I are starting a book club. First we read The Bro Code, and now we've moved onto Generation Me by Jean Twenge. Oh won`t you join our book club! I`ll begin. I liked what she said about getting dressed for yourself. I guess people in the fifties would have dressed more casually and comfortably, if it had been a social norm. Even look how Coco Chanel had changed women's fashion out of corsets and into pants. Our generation is the sweat pant generation. And I know that I talked about it in my column (link to follow, one of these days) as something bad. My clothing choices in the past 24hours varied depending upon the situation. I'm still dressing for myself, but taking context, environment, and company involved into account. Right now I'm wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Comfortable, but still cute enough to go outside and chill with the neighbours. I wore jeans and a cute tank to the mall today, and a similar ensemble to New Plot Point's house last night. But at work, it was pinstripe dress pants, a crotcheted cami and a cardigan. Family functions call for class. Skank it up when going out. Funky for school and hanging out. Professional for work. Comfy for home. I essentially have 5 looks. And multiple personalities for each. And I love what she said about dance (fashion and dancing? boy am I predictable) What will my children's weddings look like, for the bride/father groom/mother dances? I don't know how to waltz.. what hope does my son have. Thats why I love going to places with my friends that play music from the fifties or sixties. Some songs just demand that he put his hand on your waist, and you put yours on his shoulder. You clasp hands, and improvise a little fox trot. I think that I want to live in the romanticized boomer generation. I want the formality and ettiquite and newness, with the convenience and freedoms of the Internet age.