Go Ahead, Fry it up in the Pan

I have said it before: Juliet was wrong. Names are important.

Case in point: our current influenza outbreak. Call it "swine flu," and hog futures tumble. Unfairly, I might add. The virus has nothing to do with eating pork.

In fact, you could say that "swine flu" is to pork as "9/11 terrorists' entrance to the U.S." is to Canada. Which is to say, unrelated.

I'm not being flip about the seriousness of the flu--or terrorism. But I do believe that in crisis, it's important to keep track of the facts.

So eat pork or don't eat it for whatever religious or ethical or personal reasons you want. Just don't let fear of "swine flu" be one of them.

Meanwhile, I wonder whether "H1N1 flu" has enough catchiness to take over as the new name, President Obama's use last night notwithstanding. While it has the advantage of accuracy, it lacks something--such as meaning to us non-virologists.

So stay tuned. I have heard musicians say that deciding on the name of their band was more difficult than they imagined. It will be interesting to see if naming the flu is equally difficult.

Citizenship: You Brought Your #2 Pencils, Right?

As I have said, citizenship is in the news up here. I'm eligible to take the test to become a Canadian citizen because I have lived here for three years as a permanent resident.

But I like to ace tests. I like to be 100 percent at things. I haven't had a chance to study. And based on what I saw last night, I may need some study time.

Last night on TV Ontario (the .5 channel of our 2.5 channels), The Agenda assembled a panel to discuss multiculturalism and citizenship. A lot of it was yawn-inducing, but some was not. People seemed to think the test was either trivial or not, and it either could use some tweaking or was fine as is. (They disagreed politely, of course.)

However, the questions they mentioned sounded hard to me. As I told the panel last night, "How many Canadians born in Canada could pass this test?" (They didn't respond. Darn this old broadcast-style technology.)

Let's get started. You're on the hono(u)r system.

1. How many electoral districts are there in Canada? (This question is under the Federal Elections heading, if that helps.) Your options: 101, 211, 308, 176.

2. Who is Canada's Head of State? Your options: Queen Elizabeth II, Jean Chretien, Adrienne Clarkson, Wayne Gretsky

3. Which animal is an official symbol of Canada? Your options: Moose, Black Bear, Canadian Loon, Beaver

For you giggling Americans, here are some of your questions. These are short answer.

1. What is the supreme court law of the United States?

2. Who elects the president of the United States?

3. Whose rights are guaranteed by the Constitution and the Bill of Rights?

Not as easy as it sounds, is it? At least attempt answers before reading on. Don't think of it as "being stupid." Think of it as an opportunity to learn. A knowledge gap to be filled.

Answers for the Canadian test: 308, QE II, and the Beaver. I happened to get these correct (it was a total guess on the electoral districts) on the practice test. I missed the questions (not reproduced here) about how often elections must be held and which rights are protected in the Charter.

Answers for the American test: the Constitution, the electoral college, and everyone living in the U.S. (citizen and non-citizen alike). Surprised?

To take a sample Canadian test, go here. To see an American Q&A, go here (it's at About.com, but taken from the .gov site). Note how many of the questions on the U.S. test relate to the flag. There's even a question about an incendiary statement possibly made by a patriot a couple hundred years ago. If you want to study up for the U.S. test, here are some resources.

And last, but not least, a question for those on both sides of the border:

4. How many 9/11 terrorists came into the U.S. from Canada?

Thank you for your attention. Class dismissed.

Attention! Yo, Napolitano, McCain, and other Americans

Those responsible for the 9/11 hijackings did NOT enter the U.S. through Canada.

Seriously.

They didn't.

Read your own government's report about the 9/11 attacks, available for download from this archived site. Unfortunately, the report does not include an index. However, in pages about 200 to about 300, you can read multiple reports of pilot trainees and the muscle hijackers merrily to-ing and fro-ing into and around the U.S. on student and other visas.

They entered the U.S. more than once at Newark, San Diego, New York, Miami and Orlando, and at Dulles Airport in Virginia. And Czar Napolitano, take note in this report of the extensive flight training they received in Tucson--your back yard. Nowhere near Canada.

And may I just also point out that even if the 9/11 terrorists had visited Canada--which THEY DID NOT--Canada does not catapault people across the border into the U.S. Nobody, not normal folks nor terrorists. That is to say, U.S. immigration officials would have had the opportunity to prevent their entry into the U.S., just as they had the opportunity when the terrorists arrived at U.S. airports.

After all, that's what happened in 1999. A single terrorist, Ahmen Ressam, was caught crossing from British Columbia to Washington State with bomb-making materials in the trunk of his car, reaportedly heading toward LAX to create mayhem. He crossed by ferry and his was the last car off, which gave officials plenty of time to note how nervous he seemed. So U.S. officials did a thorough inspection and found the materials and took him into custody.

Scary? You bet. Worrisome? Oh yeah. Do immigration officials need to be more vigilant and share information better? Sure. But do you know why Ressam was a lone terrorist? Because, according to the 9/11 report (page 81), his colleagues COULD NOT RECEIVE TRAVEL DOCUMENTS TO ENTER CANADA.

Huh. So the 9/11 terrorists got into the U.S. easily. The confederates of the 1999 sole THWARTED terrorist could NOT get into Canada easily.

And still, somehow, high-ranking officials in the U.S.--on both sides of the aisle, I might point out--continue to imagine that Canada must be responsible for the 9/11 terrorists. It's a jaw-dropper.

Senator McCain, you could have been president. Turns out you were unqualified to lead the U.S. even before you chose Sarah Palin as your possible backup. Seriously, you were running on a platform of making America more safe?

Czar Napolitano, how are you qualified to hold your position? I have said before that the Border Czar position and anything related to NAFTA really are all about Mexico, not Canada. I was serious, sorta. But now I'm just appalled.

Holy smokes, people. This kind of ignorance, this high up in leadership circles, has GOT to stop.

And I thought Billy Bob Thornton was embarrassing. Turns out "ignorant and proud of it" is more embarrassing than "immature and celebrated for it." Wish I hadn't had to find THAT out.

Awkward...

The United States could not have a better friend and ally than Canada.

Barak Obama said that on February 19 to a cheering throng of Canadians. A Nanos Research poll released earlier this month shows that nearly 90 percent of Canadians agree or somewhat agree with this statement.

But don't get confused. Here's what he's NOT saying: Canada and the U.S., BFF. (That's Best Friends Forever, for the less happ'nin' among us.) Nope.

I really don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. This "best friend" thing: it's not mutual. To the rank and file American, Canada is like that person they have to be nice to.

You know. The guy you have to go to the dance with because he is the son of someone who works with your parents, and anyway, the guy you really like didn't ask you to the dance. And this Canada guy is fine. Polite, even. Funny in a quiet way. Lives next door and keeps the yard tidy. Apologizes if he has to come over and say your party's bothering him. Nothing wrong with him. But...meh.

So, who do Americans think their country's best friend is? Some would say it's England. England is that ex with whom you share all that history. Americans think England is a great country, really, except for that time 200+ years ago when it got a little over-controlling. But we showed them what's what, and now that we all know where we stand--yeah, we're close.

A few Americans who have traveled would say America's best friend is Australia. Aussies are like Californians--laid-back and friendly without the weirdnesses. And hey, Australia has some of that same shared history, too. And they talk funny. Americans love that.

But you know what? Americans don't really think of themselves as having friends. America, to Americans, is the world leader. Leaders really can't have friends. A friend is someone you can disagree with, and you do disagree openly with that friend, yet you still chat and you exchange perspectives and influence each other's ideas. A friend's happiness is almost as important to you, ALMOST--almost, as your own happiness is. Almost.

Sorry, Canada. And sorry England and Australia and the rest of the world's countries, too. America doesn't have friends. Not even close.

Instead, America has allies, as President Obama said above. America likes its allies a lot, especially when those allies agree with the American perspective. But an ally's well-being ranks nowhere near America's. An ally's interests are clearly subordinate to America's interests. America will sign an agreement with you but if the agreement turns out to cost them money (*cough* softwood lumber *cough*), they'll tell you how the world is. And you'll go along. Because America is a leader.

Of course, everything I've written above (after "Nope.") is a gross generalization.

Some Americans do appreciate the friendship Canada has shown. Some understand that true friendly relationships--beyond alliances drawn up decades ago--among nations are necessary. It's important to have those relationships in place when conflicts of interest arise.

And, thankfully, one of those Americans apparently lives in the White House.

But I hope Canada doesn't depend too much on that friendship. Because, Canada: America just isn't that into you.

I know. We were all waiting for that line, weren't we?

But Not for Me, Eh? and a Border Czar Digression

Yesterday, a whole raft of folks "woke up Canadian." The stuff in the eco-unfriendly styrofoam cup is, I believe, poutine. (Note that the previous link is not an endorsement of any particular iteration of poutine.)

I don't think I was one of the lucky new Canadians--but it's possible some of my older siblings were.

By the time I was born, my mother had renounced her Canadian citizenship. To become a U.S. citizen, she had to; the U.S. did not allow for dual citizenship. She made that choice for several reasons.

For one thing, her children were (and would be; she wanted a large family) born in the U.S. and thus be Americans, and she wanted to be a citizen of the same country as her children.

And for another, she was a university professor in the late 1940s and early 1950s, a time when institutions were requiring loyalty oaths. (Speaking of unenlightened immigration policy through history.)

I was born after she became an American. But I think two of my older sibs were born to a Canadian national. Whether they choose to do anything about it is another story.

As for me, I'll check into the situation more. However, Canadian citizenship is available to me the old-fashioned way: through living and learning. And once I get around to studying for the test, I'll pursue that, too.

Of course, welcoming a bunch of Americans and British War Brides into the citizenship fold isn't really the purpose of this new legislation, any more than President Obama's references to NAFTA have anything to do with Canada. (Digression: this new "Border Czar" in the U.S.? It's really a "Border with Mexico Czar." The northern border--well, that's just kind of a line somewhere, isn't it, out near the Dakotas?)

In Canada, this citizenship revision creates a similar truth-in-labelling problem. While the new law won't revoke citizenship from people who now have it, the law does put new, strict limits on who is eligible for Canadian citizenship in the future. (If your citizen parents lived in Canada, great. If they haven't lived in Canada, look out.) And the government isn't exactly emphasizing that part.

Here's one reason for these changes. Two years ago, controversy arose when Canadian citizens in Lebanon requested help from the Canadian government during a time of unrest in Lebanon. Many were dual citizens who lived in Lebanon full-time. They didn't live in Canada. They had never lived in Canada. They never meant to live in Canada. But they wanted protection.

I'm not arguing that Canadian immigration law needed revising. I'm not taking issue with specific provisions.

However, I am pointing out that the law is designed in large part to exclude people, while the government is spinning its announcements to focus on including people.

And it would be more HONEST for the government of Canada to acknowledge that fact.

Signs of Spring

Here's how I know it's spring. Nearly. Almost. Sorta.

It's NOT the lush green grass springing up anywhere. What I see is more like this.

Truthfully, that's from April 28 of last year. But we have more snow and ice than that today.

But I do know it's very nearly spring. Yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, my husband put on a coat and his boots and went out to wander around. He came in grinning the grin of a man who likes living and working out here. We have had the first of our "Omigod there's a lot of general BRUSHING that needs to be done" conversations. Full disclosure: the "Omigod" is my line.

Trees are down and need to be cleared up. Trees that used to be saplings aren't anymore and thus need to come out from under powerlines and the edges of driveways.

What he calls "brushing," and I call "work outside" or "yard work" or something else, will occupy much of our energy, both physical and mental, for the next two months. I enjoy it--the talking about it, the thinking about it, the doing it. Fortunately. Because there is plenty of it to be done. Ladies and gentlemen, sharpen your loppers.

Spring may not have arrived yet, but after yesterday's walk and talk, I think we can see it from here. Does that mean we're nearing the demarcation line between winter and spring? Maybe. Ah, the glorious in-between of maybe.

National Poetry Month!

Yes, up here, too.

And I bought a book of poetry in hono(u)r of the month. (Plus two others, regular fiction selections, but they were bargains. Bargains!) (Bookstores: dangerous.)

I know--I have said that I don't really know from poetry. I don't appreciate it at the level of the people who write it. That's still true.

This month, though, I had heard (while listening to a Q podcast during a walk) an interview with a poet, Adam Sol, who has riffed on the prophet Jeremiah in a volume entitled Jeremiah, Ohio. Here's the site of his publisher, Anansi Press, where you can read interviews and hear him read. Oh, and order the book.

I haven't started. There's the usual to-do list and inertia to beat into submission. However, I'm hopeful. I know context for this work. Jeremiah: I am not a Bible scholar but hey, I can look him up.

And there's a story around and in and through these poems. Whew.

Plus, Adam Sol is another American immigrant. So whether his work "counts" as Canadian content, I'm not sure. But it's poetry, and it's Poetry Month! So enjoy!

Who's the Canadian?

Have we learned … that courtesy ranks with courage? Do we know how to be good losers? Do we know the power of kindness, the joy of work? Do we appreciate the influence of example, the worth of character?

Sounds positively Canadian, doesn't it? As if the person who said it came from a country and tradition that celebrates peace, order, and good government. A country with an international reputation for politeness, multiculturalism, dependability.

Only it's not Canadian at all. It was written by a real all-American boy, a sixteen-year-old from rural Illinois.

It's from my father's high school valedictory address--Odgen, Illinois, 1933, a small farming community in the middle of corn and soybean fields. And this quote pretty much describes his approach to life. As the twig is bent and all that.

My mother was the one born on this side of the border, in what was then Port Arthur and is now Thunder Bay. But perhaps I'm also "Canadian" from my father.

The photo below is one of my favorite pictures of my father. Extended family assembled in Oklahoma to celebrate his 90th birthday. It rained.


Theodore Lee Agnew, Jr.
December 21, 1916 - April 15, 2007

He was a gentleman and a gentle man. Smart. Methodical. Reliable. Always aware of the example he set, and he set a fine example most of the time.

And best of all, he could irritate me exponentially: his behavior could annoy me beyond all proportion to his actual crime. But not only that, other people thought he was uniformly fabulous--so cute, such a sweetheart, what would we do without Ted?--and that made me feel bad about being irritated while exacerbating the irritation.

He was a real person, living proof that courtesy isn't unknown in the U.S., just as it is not a uniquely Canadian trait.

So yeah, I'm half Canadian. On both sides of the family.

Easter 2007

Two years ago, my father was in a rehab hospital in Tucson. He and my sister and I colored eggs on Easter Sunday afternoon. This shows our most excellent handiwork.

His eggs all feature written messages you can't really see in this picture: A cross with "He is Risen, Indeed." That kind of thing. The ones with smudges: mine. The beautiful graphic ones: my sister's.

I remember many moments like this during his last month--moments of sun and peace and contentment and creativity. They're the sunny side of awe; they balance the fear and sorrow and pain and long, long nights.

The following Thursday he went into a decline that culminated in his death on Sunday, April 15. Of course I'll always miss him, but I will always have that month of experiences with him, too. It's not enough, but it's what I have, and I'm grateful.

So THAT's What Happened

I don't know from Jeremy Fisher but this is fabulous.



Have you ever met your postman?

American Behaving Badly

This just in: Billy Bob Thornton is a jerk, and now all of Canada knows it.

It's difficult when Americans come here and behave badly. I am embarrassed for everyone.

I take a pass on most public figures: George Bush, for example. His behavio(u)r operates in a theatre far larger than anything I can even begin comprehend and has consequences so devastating that we're all still sorting through them. I'm not embarrassed about his eight years in office; I'm incensed. Different. I can still be embarrassed, however, when I see him as a private citizen now, so I try not to watch.

Though I have to say that it's Dick Cheney these days who doesn't seem to understand he's no longer Vice President to George Bush and therefore doesn't run the country anymore. His egregious criticism of the current administration is worse behavio(u)r than I expected, even from someone who shoots his friends and uses the "f" word in the Senate chamber.

But anyway, you get the general rule. Public figures are too hard to be embarrassed about, except when they're personally embarrassing. Not much of a rule, but it's how I have to live.

It has a corollary, which Americans call a "CORE-uh-lair-ee" and Canadians call a "cu-RAH-luh-ree": Everyone from Texas can be considered a public figure. There are just too many Texans in the world acting silly to be embarrassed by. (Note that George Bush is thus a double-whammy.)

And now, back to Billy Bob. Given his history of wearing the blood of his then-wife (who is plenty weird in her own right, since she's Angelina Jolie) in a vial around his neck and his phobia about antique furniture, you'd think it would be hard for him to come across as any more strange.

You'd be wrong. See it here. Summary: Billy Bob and his "band" visit CBC's Q radio show, the nationwide arts and cultural program, ostensibly to play and be interviewed. Though it's a radio program, it's also broadcast on TV and video clips are posted on YouTube. And therefore, in front of a national audience, Billy Bob behaves badly. He is surly and incoherent and combative. His band cringes and talks and tries to make the best of it.

Host Jian Ghomeshi behaves like--well, like a Canadian. You know. Polite. Professional. Sane.

I don't want to embed the video because I'm not sure of Billy Bob's motives. It's possible we're seeing someone who mixed LSD and booze mere moments before the interview. It's possible we're seeing someone with an overweening ego who just felt like behaving badly the morning before opening for Willie Nelson and knew there would be few consequences. (Who cares if 33 million Canadians think you're a jerk?)

But it's possible he's doing a Joaquin Phoenix. As in, "no publicity is bad publicity." And in that case, he's winning. Even I'm playing into it.

However, I found it interesting, in the context of "us wacky Americans."

When I was new here, Canadians often hesitated to mention George Bush, as if they didn't want to wound my feelings in case I voted for him or in case I had the sense to be outraged by him.

Sometimes to get beyond the excess sensitivity, I joke. "I'm an American; I'll sue you" or "Don't forget I'm an American; I have a gun in my purse." I won't and I don't. But we all know what they're thinking, and it cuts the tension if I bring it up first.

Thus, this is my pre-emptive strike. I had hoped he was a Texan so I could use my Texas Corollary, but alas, Billy Bob hails from Hot Springs, Arkansas.

So here we go. Yes, Canada. He's a jerk, too. Sorry he felt the need to inflict himself on you. It's not personal. He's a jerk south of the border, too. And embarrassing everywhere.

Seriously: Please Please Please

If you are unhappy, please talk with someone. Don't try to tough it out alone.

Last night, a character on the TV show House committed suicide. The entertainment world is abuzz about it today. Some criticize the plot point; some praise it. Whatever. It's a story.

Here in the real world, a student in the local College's aviation program stole an airplane from the Thunder Bay Airport. He flew south, ending up at the southern border of Missouri. He picked up an escort, two F-16s, at the Wisconsin/Michigan border. Although he was apparently aware of the presence of the fighters, he didn't respond to radio communication. They didn't bring him down. He landed at the intersection of two highways and was taken into custody without incident. If suicide was his aim, he was unsuccessful.

In 2005, the last year for which official statistics are available, more than 3700 Canadians committed suicide. Too many.

So, please talk. And listen. Take care of yourselves, and each other.

Not for the Faint of Heart

Being in between things just kind of sucks. Mostly, I am talking about being between winter and spring--April is the brownest month in Thunder Bay--but the border-free zone in general is a tough place to be. As I have alluded to before (near the bottom of the post).

Here's life the past week or so. Strong sunshine-freezing wind-20 inches of snow-melty warmth-lakes in the driveway and over the septic tank-frozen lakes over same, all whirling past in approximately twenty-minute intervals.

As if that kaleidoscope of unsettlement weren't enough, this just in: I'm middle-aged. Much as I've tried to deny it, I am probably not looking at as many years ahead of me as I've had so far.

Yeah yeah, I know the equations. Everybody = same boat. Nobody = knows for sure. Attitude = everything. Life > alternative. My life > most. Age = state of mind.

I would say, "yeah, whatever," but that is "so five minutes ago," both of which simply serve to confirm that I used to watch Friends (whose stars are now all 40 themselves) back when it was popular, in a millennium long long ago.

To spare the world more late-boomer angsting blather (you're SO welcome; no really, my pleasure), I will continue processing my aging offline. However, I do want to share what prompted this most recent outburst of I = Old.

It's the Rickroll. For those who don't click through, whether on principle or out of ennui, the Rickroll (a term that is apparently always capitalized) is a joke you play on someone. The joke consists of providing a link that's ostensibly related to a topic but that actually connects to a video of Rick Astley singing "Never Gonna Give You Up," from 1987.

So yes, if I were to actually Rickroll you, the link above would have taken you here. For those among us still refusing to click through, the video is the Muppets "singing" "Never Gonna Give You Up." It's a two-fer, a sock-puppet karaoke 21st century joke.

Now, I could see the Rickroll as evidence of our voracious capacity for wasting time, an embodiment of the evils of the internet age. (Though I would like to point out that fifty years ago, workers wasted plenty of time arguing at the water cooler.)

I could see it as evidence of the unique ways in which creativity creates community among people who don't know each other. (Though books also do the same, just a little more slowly.)

Make of Le Rickroll whatever you want. Here's what I make of it: I'd never heard of it, even though it was all the rage on April 1 LAST YEAR. I still don't really get it. I'm also not a big Muppets fan, though I recognize that I bear a striking resemblance, personality-wise, to one of those old guys sitting in the gallery criticizing everything. (Muppets are too similar to dolls, which are just creepy.)

And for all of these reasons, I = Old.

Spring. Aging. As the subject line says. However, one benefit of the years I have accumulated thus far (sigh) is that I have seen more than a few seasons pass. And so shall this one. And meanwhile, I have work to do. Which I now do humming "Never Gonna Give You Up." Dammit.