Bad history that includes us

Chanie Wenjack – never free to go home.

My first day at a new school nearly scared me to death. In September of 1956, my family and I had moved from a suburb in the east end of Toronto to a village outside the city. So, I had to go to a school I didn’t know, meet a teacher I’d never seen before, try to make friends among strangers, and then, try to blend into the classroom. The fact that I wore glasses, the only one in the class, proved equally terrifying, particularly when my new teacher fussed over me.

“Why don’t you sit at the front desk,” Miss Anderson told me.

I wanted to disappear. I thought everybody would pick on me for having to wear glasses. But the worst fear I faced was that I’d get lost walking home from school. (more…)

Why has nationalism fallen from grace?

Rally at Place du Canada in Montreal, Oct. 27, 1995. Edmonton Journal.

We travelled up Highway 401 eastbound that fall morning – from Uxbridge to Montreal – to make a statement to friends and strangers alike on the other side of the Ottawa River. We felt threatened by voices of separation in la belle province, but heartened by the “No” forces – both francophone and anglophone – that wanted Quebecers to give Canada one more chance. And that autumn day we car-pooled, bussed, hitchhiked, and rallied – some 100,000 of us – at Place du Canada in Montreal.

I remember one of our daughters who couldn’t travel with us to the pro-Canada rally that Oct. 27 morning, left a note on the bathroom mirror.

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you,” she wrote. “Please save my country.”

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