A Window

Canada's having an election. It's silly season up here. By mid-morning, the election was officially happening; by 2, we'd had a call about putting up a yard sign, out here in the boonies.

But here's something that's cool. This tool is a window into Canadian political parties: the VoteCompass survey. The developer, based on published statements from the political parties, has prepared sentences. You register how strenuously you agree or disagree with those statements. At the end, you can see which party your views are closest to.

The graph at the end is very interesting. Lots of options in the "socially liberal, politically liberal" quadrant. One in the "socially conservative, politically conservative" quadrant. The other two are empty of parties.

And yes you can take it even if you're not Canadian.

Watching the political theatre unfold over the last few days has erased, once and for all, the illusion that Canadians are polite -- unless Canadian politicians don't count.

It's one thing to know that your job may well end after the vote on the first Tuesday in November, 2012. It's another thing entirely to have all the other people you have been working with stand up and vote that you're impossible to work with. Then you have to go to the Governor General and admit as much. It seems a little humiliating.

Not that I feel sorry for the former Prime Minister. If you treat Canadians' elected representatives with contempt, and then demonstrate only bitterness and irritation for getting called out on it, you don't really care about the Canadian people. Saying that you do, no matter how many times you say it, doesn't make it true.

Too bad the humiliation hasn't taught him humility. Perhaps the voters will.

Eight Canadian Actors* Americans Think are American

Because it's awards season. And in no particular order.

1. Mary Pickford (born Gladys Marie Smith in Toronto)
2. Donald Sutherland
3. Kiefer Sutherland (born in London but to Canadian [actor] parents; grandson of CBC's Greatest Canadian Tommy Douglas) (full name: Kiefer William Frederick Dempsey George Rufus Sutherland)
4. Pamela Anderson (sometimes Lee)*
5. Michael J. Fox
6. Jim Carrey
7. Enrico Colantoni (formerly of "Just Shoot Me")
8. William Shatner

Bonus! A Canadian that Americans think is British: Christopher Plummer

* In this list, "actor" = "celebrity" = "entertainer"

What it Takes to Really Learn Something

Since moving to Canada, I have learned that if I wear a coat with Velcro fastenings, I should avoid wearing knit scarves (meaning the muffler variety of scarf, a use of the term "muffler" which is apparently out of fashion). Knit scarves invariably get caught in the hook side of the velcro.

That's two rabbit trails in two sentences. "Muffler" is something you read about in books, but most people (around here) tend not to say anymore. "Hook-and-loop fastener" is the generic way to refer to Velcro. Sheesh.

MY POINT is that I should have learned this sometime in the early 1990s, when I moved to the mountains of Northern New Mexico and got to buy serious coats. Failing that, you'd think it would have become part of my explicit learning at some point during the ten years I lived in Colorado.

But no. Now, some five-plus years into living here, I finally can verbalize that the fleece muffler (crap) scarf goes with my black Velcro (crap) hook-and-loop fastened coat.

This is really about the shootings in Tucson on Saturday. (Trust me.) I have known for some time that I am grateful to be away from the relentless political rhetoric in the US. I am no more a fan of Keith Olbermann than I am of any of those on the right who also shriek and froth at the mouth. I have a low tolerance for people shouting past each other. So I am glad to have missed so much of it.

My heart is heavy from the shooting, in part because I've spent significant time in Tucson--in fact, at the Safeway and the bird food store and the La Salsa restaurant in that shopping center. Tucson is a lovely community, where many kinds of people make lives together. So the shootings there are not much farther from my thoughts than is my brother, his physicians, his family, his blood cells.

And, as is true with "knit mufflers don't go with Velcro," I am finally able to say, explicitly about politics and rhetoric, "I know all I need to; now I move on." I'm so very glad to live here, where I am away from the relentness ugly rhetoric.

This morning, while running errands, I was in the car during a CBC newscast. CBC calmly reported actual news of Tucson: arraignment, suspect, a recap count of injured and killed. Nothing breathless. No "breaking news" that isn't actually NEW. CBC reports that people are searching for blame, but it's a ten-second summary, not a rehash of "he said, she said." And then we return to regular programming: a gardening show.

And for me, for now, that's what I need: regular life. I can drop off a box of books at the library, take papers to a lawyer, go to meetings. I can prep for other meetings, do laundry, and review drafts of written stuff. At some point, I may even be able to research and revise policies, and tease out creative writing, with the focused attention they require (and deserve).

Later, when I have run out of "little things" and "regular life," ha ha, I will look again at the "big picture" and apply what I have learned. Specifically, when I have the opportunity to vote again, I will pay attention to more than political party, campaign promises, and voting record. I will look at how the candidate ran for office, and I will not reward flamethrowers.

To recap what I have (finally) learned: Wear fleece scarves with coats that have that hook-and-loop closure.

After you find out the facts, return to regular life as much as possible.

Oh, and: Deliberately incendiary rhetoric is vulgar at best and destructive at worst.

Let's hope many in the US have learned that last lesson.

Wikileak Worthy

I've been trying to come up with something to say about the Wikileaks "revelations" about Canada. I'm feeling a little...torn, I guess you could say.

Here's what my Canadian half has to say.

I don't know, I just wonder, maybe, I guess I'm saying that what I think I might want to say, isn't really, you know, very...pithy or interesting or...valid. It's not as good as what Americans say about Canada, that's for sure.

Because they think we have an, um, inferiority complex? Like, we are so inferior, because of being, um, smaller and not-American, as a country, that is (because we are waaaay bigger in square miles, really, and three coastlines to contend with), and sometimes we show how bad we feel about ourselves by overcompensating and pretending to act all superior and smug.

Like when we make the U.S. the bad guys on our TV shows, and I might add those are based on real-life stories like Maher Arar, but maybe, you know, that's out of line.

Or maybe when we point out that we're actually, like, BIGGER than the U.S. as well as a whole separate country, and therefore, not-American is pretty much exactly how we should feel.

I'm sorry. Was I too loud? Just...I need a moment. Thanks.

Here's what my American half has to say.

Canada. Yeah. Hmm. They're like, north of Alaska? We don't really need them, not for anything important like oil or building materials or minerals or anything. Wait, let me check my BlackBerry...C-a-n-a... Oh, the Olympics, right. Like that hockey game meant something. They speak some French up there, don't they, and have a lady on their money?

I don't mean to make mock. Well, maybe a little mock.

But hey, World, here's the deal: Diplomacy is not the same as honesty. They have a separate word for it and everything.

Now, isn't there something else we could all be doing? Like maybe not bombing each other?

Hi Ho Hip Hooray

Well, it happened. I heard my third "tickety-boo" today. And when n = 3, and none of those "n"s is is a relative, and especially when one of them was a CBC pundit, I feel compelled to share.

So, here you go: "Things were going along tickety-boo when all hell broke loose."

I have never heard it used when it wasn't followed by the sense of "but I was mistaken" or "but that didn't last long."

As in, the economy was chugging along tickety-boo until the housing market collapsed. Or I was running all my errands, tickety-boo, and then I got slowed by road construction.

A brief Google search reveals that it may be Scottish, and that's likely how it came into Canada.

It also revealed the following earworm, with which I leave you:



It is, after all, a peaches-and-creamy day, on which one wants to bless mankind, including one's attackers.

Of Asphalt and Potatoes

I'm back from a brief sojourn in Winnipeg, where I collected charming examples of all the funny ways in which people in this fine country pronounce their words.

Like, for example, asphalt. Note the spelling: a s p h a l t. NOT a s H p h a l t. So why do they say it "ash-fault"?

Answer: they just do, okay?

And then there's potato. Which I have recently heard pronounced "puh-DAY-duh." I was informed that Red Green, a faux person I had to look up, says it this way. Well, so does an otherwise veddy proper CBC radio guest who sounded as if she affected it for some reason unknown to me.

Not that I say, precisely, "poe-TAY-toe." More like "puh-TAY-doe."

And then, as I am about to pontificate about asphalt, I discover this Wikipedia entry for Canadian English. The fine folks at Wikipedia have been compiling alongside me. And a fine job they have done, too.

But remember, Canada is a big place. Rather like the U.S., where I grew up saying neither "soda" (affected Yankee-ism) nor "pop" (pff, that baby word), but "coke." As in, "What kind of Coke do you want? We have 7-up or Dr. Pepper." And this was a universal usage in my hometown, not one of those "your family talks funny" usages.

The point is, as I have mentioned before in relation to Canada and Canadians, beware of too-broad brushstrokes.

And now, I'm off to steam a pudayduh on the ashphalt. It's just THAT hot 'n' muggy here.

Summer Means Beer

To some people, at least. Beer at the baseball game, at the barbecue, with the hot dog or the bratwurst or the Italian sausage. Beer on a hot afternoon in the shade.

I'm not a big beer fan, but I am interested in advertising, and beer is one of the "you've made it" brands that every ad agency wants. According to Terry O'Reilly on CBC's Age of Persuasion, anyway.

And, from one of Terry's recent programs, here's one fascinating difference between beer ads in Canada and in the U.S.

In Canada, you can't show people drinking beer. In a beer commercial.

Seriously.

This prohibition apparently leads to other slightly arcane rules. If a beer bottle in a commercial is not full, the commercial has to show beer in a glass; the amount of the beer in the glass has to be the same as the beer no longer in the bottle. Otherwise, you imply that people are drinking beer.

And you can't show more beer containers than people in a scene because that implies that people are drinking, and more than one beer, at that.

I was so astounded by this that I missed some of the other esoterica, which you could probably look up somewhere. One rule had to do with showing cars (maybe all motorized vehicles) in beer ads. You can show them before you show the product, though it's frowned upon. But you can't show them after showing the product, because you can't imply that people drive after they have (not) been drinking. I think.

The other mainstream category I can think of off the top of my head that requires you not show the product being enjoyed is birth control. (Not counting anything in the porn/adult industry.) But fast food? Soft drinks? Cars? Okay, cars generally show a really awesome driver, not you, and no, you're not to attempt what you see, but still, someone is enjoying the product.

From the beer commercial prohibition, I deduce that Canadians are big believers in (a) controlling society through the subliminal messages communicated through advertising, and (b) making life hard for themselves.

At least if I find myself accidentally watching World Cup coverage (the Stanley Cup hunt being over), I'll know what to look for: decadent Americans (gasp) drinking beer!!!!

Not the Bahamas

This is also not about politics, either. You're welcome.

It's a pronunciation note. I cannot believe I haven't blogged this one before, but apparently not.

It has to do with space: specifically, NASA.

In the U.S., this agency is known as "NASS-uh."

In Canada, often it comes out as "NASS-awe." Like Nassau, that resort destination in the Bahamas.

I've heard it from "just folks," which is interesting but not really a reliable litmus test. But I also hear it from morning news program people, on both TV and radio. That's people. As in, more than one.

It's become something I listen for when I listen to Canadian politicians--much as "nuclear" is something I listen to American politicians pronounce. And yes, I am a nuclear snob. "Nuke-u-lar" is just lazy, people. And a little frightening.

Preserving democracy through standard pronunciation: my work here is done.

Thunder Bay: My Home Town

For people who think Thunder Bay is the back end of nowhere, here's a counter-story.

On February 4, the video below was posted on YouTube.



Since its posting, more than 200,000 people have watched the video. That's twice the city's population.

Jordan Burnell (from TBay) is currently a university student in Toronto. Matt Popowich runs Westfort Films, based here in Thunder Bay. Good on you guys.

An interview with them on CBC's morning show, the Great Northwest, is available here.

Shh! Can I have some peace and quiet for the Sleeping Giant?

Shortlist!!

The shortlist for the CBC Literary Awards was just announced. My creative nonfiction piece, "All I Can Say," is there!

Or rather, here!

I know everyone says this, but in my case it's true: getting this far is all the honour (with a "u" because it's a Canadian competition) and excitement I could hope for. To me, this recognition means I was able to get out of the way of the story enough that the exceptional people in the story (my Deaf friend Eric and my mother) touched other readers.

I had some outstanding help from the writers in Thunder Bay (including my husband) who gave me feedback that helped make the piece a million times better than it had been.

Eventually, that piece will appear in print somewhere. I'll keep you posted.

Canadian Content at Christmas

The original words to this Christmas carol are in Wendat, the language of the Huron people; the tune is a traditional French folk song.

It was written in the 1600s by a Christian missionary, Jean de Brébeuf, at Saint-Marie among the Hurons. It has since been translated into French and English, of course. However, the English translation is relatively recent -- the best-known translation was in 1926. In this version, you get to hear all three languages.

I learned all of this more or less against my will. Last night, I was driving home from a late coffee with a pal and CBC radio was keeping me company. One of my least-favourite programs, The Vinyl Cafe, came on.

(The Vinyl Cafe is similar to Garrison Keillor's radio stuff. For me, a little goes a long way. And yes, I realize that feeling ambivalent about The Vinyl Cafe makes me un-Canadian. I am okay with that. I also dislike Jimmy Stewart, for the most part, which makes me un-American, especially at this It's a Wonderful Life time of year.) (Blech. Ptooey. Just trying to get that saccharine taste out of my mouth.)

I nearly turned to CBC Radio 2, or another station, or silence. But I didn't. And my reward for keeping an open mind about The Vinyl Cafe was hearing a lovely version of this carol and learning all this Canadiana.

I suspect I was already supposed to know this, but some information just doesn't stick until you hear it late at night, at the end of a long day, while driving in the frozen darkness toward your warm, love-filled home.

It's nice when "life lessons" like "keep an open mind, already!" bring immediate rewards like this. And if you find yourself singing "Jesous Ahatonhia" later today, don't be surprised. It's catchy that way.

Literary Mashup...and Zombies

In my usual hip and happ'nin fashion, I recently participated in a pop culture phenomenon: I pretended to send my six-year-old son up in a flimsy hot-air balloon in an effort to get a television show.

Just kidding. Really, I read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith.

I was inspired in part by slogging through (most of) (okay, some of) a literary classic, Don Quixote, for a book club. And yes, I felt a glow equivalent to the one you get from eating nothing but veggies and working out regularly. Therefore, I needed some Halloween candy. Also some way to get "The Impossible Dream" out of my head.

Although I contemplated re-reading the original Pride and Prejudice, I opted not to. I've been curious about P&P&Z because it is successful and because it has generated much discussion yet little outrage (at least in my cocoon). Also, I recently heard an interview with the publisher who thought up this idea (I'm behind on podcasts but I think it was mid-September, an episode of Q hosted by the lovely and talented Jian Ghomeshi) and this publisher told an interesting tale.

The form is, apparently, a literary mashup.

For those who are even less hip and with-it than I am--that is, the person to whom I happen to be married--a mashup is a combination of songs (and, nowadays, videos thereof) to make a new song (or video). Go here for definitions from the Urban Dictionary. The mashup is apparently mostly a music phenomenon, with crossovers to videos on YouTube.

And according to the Q interview, the publisher one day idly wondered what the literary equivalent of the mashup was. He wrote down a list of classics whose copyrights, conveniently, are lapsed and which are thus in the public domain--Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist, and others. And then he made another list, this time of pop culture phenomena: zombies, sea monsters, vampires, monkeys, and others. And then he drew a line between the columns. When he connected Pride and Prejudice with zombies, he knew he had an excellent mash. Er, match. Or anyway, a title.

I liked that story a lot. How often do people stop at the "idle curiosity" step, without actually pursuing something innovative? Even I go only one step beyond idle curiosity, to decide that "someone" should do "something." That is, after all, the origin of my own venture, "Great Ideas for Other People," which I still can't figure out how to make into an actual business, but you heard about it here first.

So here's a rundown of my pop culture experience.

1. I had a difficult time finding the book. I looked high and low in fiction, under Austen and Smith. I looked on the store's computers 3 times to verify that the store had 23 copies on the shelves. And then I realized that the book must be shelved in one of those sections of the store I never go into: Horror. (Other sections I avoid include the yoga mat section, the computer reference book section, and the inspirational business section. If you see me there, I'm under duress--likely for a job.) Which also describes how I felt looking at the rest of the books in the section. Not exactly my cuppa.

2. So imagine my surprise to find that the book is kinda cute except when it's dumb. It has some fairly stupid gross-out humo(u)r (bodily functions, pus) and even a couple of off-colo(u)r jokes involving balls--both the kind you dance at and the kind that go into a musket. This aspect of the zombie story line is the least effective part of the combination.

3. In some cases, the addition of the zombie story line actually serves to make characters slightly more accessible to modern audiences. Charlotte Lucas has a pretty good reason for marrying Mr. Collins, for example--one that's comprehensible even to modern women. Mr. Bennet, too, has a different motivation that makes him not completely arbitrary and capricious. However, both characters retain enough of their original personalities so as not to spoil the storyline. The Wickham story is also resolved in a way that provides satisfaction to some modern readers.

4. In other cases, the story changes seem arbitrary. Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner both commit transgressions in the mashup that aren't in the original story. I was interested to see how those transgressions could help solidify or twist the original plot back on itself in an effective way--but they never did. A significant twist to the Charlotte/Mr. Collins storyline was equally "why?"

However, the questions in the Reader's Discussion Guide alone are worth the price of the book. Or at least a look-see in the bookstore. Read #6. Seriously.

Overall, it's like those miniature Mr. Goodbars--not bad for what they are, but not nearly as good as a Hershey's Special Dark miniature.

I did enjoy my foray into the mashup world. Always something to learn from popular culture. Though I think I might need an hour to dip into the original P&P. Just to cleanse the palate.

Freedom: Thanks to Health Care

In a recent interview (available for download here), science fiction writer Robert Sawyer was asked about creativity and living in Canada.

He says, and I'm paraphrasing, that the federal and provincial arts programs that award money to artists (writers, musicians, visual artists, multimedia, film, etc.) are fine, great, whatever.

But the single best thing that Canada did for his writing career was provide universal health care.

Surprised? I was, till I thought about it.

You may or may not like Robert Sawyer's writing, but imagine what that form of health care could mean for YOU.

Imagine being able to quit your current job and start your own business. You don't need a spouse to give you healthcare coverage. You can put your savings into the business, not into expensive COBRA coverage.

Imagine owning a small but growing business and being all too aware that if you grow such that you employ more than a certain number of people, you have to provide health insurance. Makes your long-term strategic planning look a little different, doesn't it?

Imagine owning a business and NEVER having to provide basic health insurance, at all--and not having to explain that it's a hardship or otherwise justify NOT doing it.

All that concern, that expense just...goes away.

And that's for the business world. Imagine the freedom and flexibility for artists, for students, for educators, for those who work out of the home part-time (or who work only at home) and raise children, for those finally finishing school, for career-changers.

Here's something close to home for people between 30 and 70. Your elderly mother suddenly needs more care. Guess what? You can move to be near her. No need to line up a job in advance long-distance or worry about your own health coverage.

Of course, each province has its own healthcare plan, so moving to a new province requires jumping through a hoop or two. But it's do-able, especially compared to what you'd go through in the U.S.

I remain dismayed at willful ignorance in the "debate" south of the border. Worse is the sheer lack of principle of those who create lies--and those who believe them--to justify their investment in the status quo. Death panels? You can say that with a straight face? You really believe that? Seriously?

I've stayed out of the discussion, mostly, and now I'm going on to something else. But I wanted to share this little what-if exercise, because I think it shows how universal healthcare coverage could give Americans what they claim they want most: freedom.

Unfortunately Being Erica

CBC has this show, "Being Erica," in which a thirtysomething underachiever learns Valuable Life Lessons by reliving events from her past and talking with a magic shrink dude.

I don't really like the show. I know I'm supposed to. But I don't. Yes, I've watched more than one episode. Yes, I'm aware that part of my dislike is a weird talking thing that the lead actress does. Holly Hunter, Keira Knightley, and Winona Ryder all annoy me for a similar thing they do. And yes, I'm extremely aware that none of this is logical.

Imagine my excitement to realize I get my own private Being Erica experience.

We're on a trip to southern Ontario. My husband has a little business to attend to. I'm going along for the ride. Then we get to visit family.

And I will see Toronto, and parts of the rest of southern Ontario, as an adult. It's a little bit of a do-over, a chance at a Life Lesson. Dammit.

The last time I was in greater Toronto was multiple decades ago, when I was a teenager. Back then, I was resentful at leaving our fabulous vacation in the cool boreal forest to go to large hot cities full of people I didn't know to do "family" stuff with strangers and then go back home where it was also hot and humid.

In other words, going to southern Ontario was the end of the fun part of vacation and a return to drudgery, and every day spent en route was a day stolen from Paradise.

What can I say? No room for gray in a teenager's world.

Fast forward those decades. I've known for years that I should want to go to Toronto. What's not to like? It's a city, lots of amenities, an important part of this country. For two years, I've even theoretically wanted to go visit the stepson. However, in practice, just thinking about southern Ontario brought up all that old stuff.

Hence the Being Erica experience--I mean, sorta. I'm not actually becoming a teenager again, and I'm grateful for that. There's no magic shrink dude--my husband would laugh if I tried to cast him in that role.

But I can predict the Life Lessons. There's nothing inherently wrong with southern Ontario--Toronto and the other cities we're stopping in are probably interesting, wonderful places to visit. And when you live in Paradise, going home is doubly fabulous.

Look out, Monday.

Un-Patriotism

Hi, my name is Marion, and I'm un-patriotic. In both countries. And I'm taking advantage of this sweet spot between Canada Day and Independence Day to clear the air.

Here are a few of my un-favo(u)rite Canadian things.

• Diana Krall. I know I should like her music but I don't. I just don't. I really want to, but I don't. I have tried. I don't like her public performing persona. I'm sure she's a wonderful person. I just don't like her. I also don't like performances by Celine Dion, Shania Twain, or Rita MacNeil (though Rita writes reasonable songs). I'm not nuts about Anne Murray. Yeah yeah--icons, wildly successful, I get that. But no, I don't like them. Sorry. Oh, and Mike Myers and Keanu Reeves. Nope.
• The Listener. It's a Canadian program that's also popular in the U.S. and I'm supposed to be supportive and happy, but this program is ridiculous. It's certainly no Flashpoint, which is the best of that lot. And CBC doesn't necessarily do a better job of original programming. The Border is waaaay melodramatic but I have managed to sit through entire episodes because the content is interesting to someone interested in the Canada/U.S. border. Reaching back in time, Intelligence and DaVinci Goes Viral are both too dark. Not dark in content--literally dark. I can't see a thing and the content doesn't inspire me to try harder. And you remember last summer's vote-Maria-off-the-island reality show. Brrr.
• Lloyd Robertson, anchor of CTV news. I should admire his ability to mince while sitting behind a desk, but that seems a dubious distinction. His delivery is just plain distracting, even when he's not stumbling over the words. Peter Mansbridge, CBC anchor, bellows a bit but he, at least, reads reasonably well. Though he needs to stop it with that "Next on most CBC stations: Geoooooooooorge Stroumboulopoulous! and The Hour."
• Persians, a dislike that makes me doubly traitorous because they're unique to Thunder Bay. But blech. Also poutine: don't get the point. And I'm not a fan of either Tim Horton's or Robin's Donuts. I'm supposed to support Tim's again because it recently moved its headquarters from Delaware back to somewhere in Ontario. But sorry.

Of course, the list of my un-favorite American things is longer. I've had many more years to compile it. But for some reason, the existence of that list inspires far less guilt. Somehow it seems acceptable to have reservations about the country one is born into, where one grew up. Though, given the country, it's sometimes risky to be vocal about one's reservations.

However, for the most part, I am unapologetic about the content of my un-favorite American things. The top of that list, today, is Michael Jackson. I know: icon, maverick, influential, yeah yeah. Don't like him. Didn't like Elvis, either. I can appreciate the importance of their contributions without liking them. And therefore, I do.

But about having un-favo(u)rite Canadian things: it seems churlish, having chosen to live in this country, not to be out front leading the parade with my face painted like the flag, red bars on the sides and maple leaf down my nose. I should be singing "Ontari-ari-ari-oooooo" and "Can-a-dah!" I should see nothing but fabulousness. I shouldn't complain about the weather, the healthcare system, the roads, the gas prices, the difficulty an immigrant has in establishing credit, the political leadership...well, you get the idea.

I do enjoy many Canadian things and people. I'm a big fan of Leonard Cohen, Holly Cole, and Molly Johnson. I like butter tarts and Nanaimo bars. I like meeting people with all kinds of interesting backgrounds who speak many languages.

But mostly I enjoy living in a country where patriotism takes the form of a mild smugness. Canadians think their country is pretty great, but they would never be so crass as to say so aloud. And that's darn refreshing.

So--Canada, I'm sorry about that "don't like" list but I know we can still be friends. And U.S.--well, I'm wishing you the best from elsewhere and hoping you have a fine holiday. (Pssst. Canada Day was better.)

One Giant Leap Backward

I feel compelled to say something about the isotope shortage, the shutdown of the Chalk River facility, and the brouhaha about the evil quotient of the Natural Resources minister. I've tried to pretend these things are not happening, but they are not going away.

Here's what I have to say.

1. The Chalk River nuclear facility gets one year older every 365 days (366 days in a leap year). Time has operated in this way, according to our perception though possibly not Einstein's, for millennia. This is not news. Therefore, its age and the resulting issues with safety and production are also not news. So where have the governments been? Oh wait--that's right, the Harper government fired the woman in charge when she dared to mention safety issues.

2. Canada is getting out of the isotope business by 2016 (presumably after getting back into it somehow, through a too-little, too-late investment in Chalk River) (but I digress). This weakens Canada's much-adored healthcare system. Yes, isotopes presumably will be available for purchase from other countries. But if you're directly responsible for the health of your citizens (and permanent residents), and you have a capacity for providing a crucial diagnostic and treatment tool, you have both a vested interest in continuing to provide it AND the advantage of experience. Oh, wait: that assumes you learn from experience. Never mind.

3. Further, shutting down isotope production is a giant leap backward, technologically speaking, for the whole country. However, it is business as usual for this country, which tends to export its brains and great ideas to the U.S. for commercialization. The BlackBerry is a notable exception. Wouldn't it be nice if Canada embraced the areas in which it has experience--you might even say leadership--and invested there? I like to think of it as "logic."

4. The Natural Resources minister is guilty mostly of being a politician (possibly a not-too-effective one, but that's another matter). She is, however, also guilty of cowardice for allowing the Prime Minister's office to orchestrate her response to her comments. She would be a happier person and a much better public servant--though perhaps not a more effective politician--if she had the guts to respond like a human being to this situation. The problem is, it's the politicians who are in charge. Not public servants. And everyone in the House should really seriously re-think what it is they were elected to do.

If you're American and thus haven't heard about any of this, here's the CBC story about getting out of isotope production. Related articles are on the right. Here's an opinion about Lisa Raitt.

As you may have guessed, this kind of news and this particular story just make me tired. Maybe it's incipient allergies and lack of sleep when "night" includes about 3 hours of darkness and lots of twilight and dawn. Maybe I'm finally succumbing to apathy now that the workings of the Canadian government aren't alien and therefore fascinating.

But you know what? Maybe it's not me. Maybe, just maybe, I'm tired because of the bad behavio(u)r.

Grrr.

A Canadian Question

Yesterday, the "Ontario Today" program on CBC Radio One included the question, "Is the seal hunt any of our business in Ontario?" (A 30-day archive of their call-in show is available here.)

I have felt that I should have something to say about the seal hunt, since it's one of the ways in which Canada is consistently in the international news. The seal hunt occurs in Atlantic Canada, by the way--the Canadian Sealers Association represents the industry in Newfoundland, the Quebec North Shore, and the Magdalen Islands, according to its website.

The seal hunt is part of the Janus-face of Canadian culture, best demonstrated by extreme statements. One half: Canada is a polite cultural mosaic that justifiably prides itself on its peacekeeping role around the world. The other half: Canada is barbaric, with a history that includes World War II internment camps for Japanese and Italian citizens, unfair treatment of natives and Metis, and reckless exploitation of natural resources ranging from fur-producing animals to trees and minerals.

Understand that I know that the truth about Canada and Canadians doesn't lie in these two extremes.

And perhaps I should have something to say about the seal hunt, but I don't.

What I can comment on is the unique Canadian nature of the question, "Is the seal hunt any of our business in Ontario?"

You'd never see a similar question asked in the U.S., because the answer is a given: "Of course it's our business. We're all in this together."

For example, when a state like Iowa or California recognizes gay marriage, U.S. citizens in Oklahoma and Oregon and Idaho and Florida don't say "Oh well. Not our business." They don't even consider that as an option. In fact, people from Idaho may well have gone to Iowa to demonstrate for or against that state's legislation.

In Canada, however, the answer isn't a given. In fact, the attitude is more likely to be something like, "We're all in this apart."

Yesterday, that attitude was less evident than I've seen at other times, possibly because the seal hunt raises strong responses (as does gay marriage legislation). About the seal hunt, the comments I heard yesterday tended to echo Donne's "no man is an island; entire of itself" meditation, which I decree that we now all understand to apply to women also. Many of the callers expressed opinions through the lens of their own experience as hunters and trappers; others expressed disagreement with the hunt. But nobody that I heard said it wasn't Ontario's business.

Officially, however, provinces operate quite separately. Quebec has its own immigration policies. Each province has its own health care system--and when New Brunswick has consistent problems with its pathology labs, Ontario residents don't seem to adopt the issue as their own.

So is it important to Canadians that the seal hunt happens only in Atlantic Canada? Perhaps to Newfoundlanders, but apparently not to Ontarians. Which brings up a very interesting question to pose in Atlantic Canada: "Do you care what others across Canada think about the seal hunt?"

Practice Brings Mastery

What the CBC unrepentantly calls swine flu is still in the news. I think that's a good thing, but I may be alone. Lots of people are simply bored. Others are bewildered by the attention this flu gets. Their reasons include, but are not limited to, "it's tiresome" arguments.

• This flu is less lethal than the "regular old flu," and trying to correct those factual misconceptions is tiresome.
• The media is hyping the flu as a sign of the apocalypse and is desperate for someone to blame (Mexico, anyone? porous borders?) and that's tiresome.
• The public is getting het up and freaked out and that's tiresome.

They're right--those things are tiresome. However, I think the current flu pandemic is still newsworthy, and that's because handling this situation gives us practice--practice that's valuable and necessary.

Here's the context. In Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell cites studies from the early 1990s about achievement. (Say whatever disparaging things you like about this Canadian's books, and people do. He's still extremely good at finding interesting scientific studies and musing about them.) These studies show that world-class violinists practice more than those who are average violinists. Further studies show that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice to master any skill.

Ten thousand hours. That's five YEARS of 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year (two weeks of vacation). More realistically, it's ten years of 4 hours a day, 5 days a week, 50 weeks a year (still two weeks of vacation). That's focused, attentive practice with the intent to improve.

Five years, ten years--hours of practice, every single day. A lot of time.

And how much time do epidemiologists, public health officials, policy-makers, and virologists get to practice handling pandemics? How many chances?

This outbreak is an opportunity for all of them to practice. We should applaud that, because when another outbreak of disease does occur, especially if another outbreak is more lethal than this virus seems to be, we want them to be skilled. We want them to have mastered their work.

We want them to be able to track the disease accurately and find its source. We want them to be able to find and explain the risk factors, the transmission routes, the possible and necessary steps. We want them to be able to predict useful actions governments and individuals can take, evaluate those suggested actions, and recommend different ones if the suggested ones don't work.

Scientists have computer models. But biological creatures, like viruses and humans, also behave in unexpected and essentially unpredictable ways. Ask any computer scientist--she spends a lot of time tweaking her model's assumptions and algorithms.

And guess what? We, the public, have a role here, too. This outbreak represents a chance for us. We can listen as specialists tell us information; we can ask clarifying questions. We can learn to assess risk more accurately. We can also evaluate the media coverage--is it hype? what is being downplayed? how big a leap are they making to get to that conclusion? And we can give them useful feedback that will help their performance--and ours.

Furthermore, we can extend that learning beyond the science to international relations, the role of government, even to history. For example, why might China be extra-sensitive about this flu outbreak--to the point of quarantining Canadians simply for being from Canada? Would a group of American students have submitted to a quarantine (while presenting no flu symptoms) as cheerfully? Why or why not?

The good news for us is that we have the chance to practice these skills every day, far more often than the epidemiologists et al. can.

So let's do that, instead of moaning about how boring it is, or ignoring the story, or freaking out. Please?

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!

So THAT's What Happened

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



Have you ever met your postman?