So How Do You Celebrate Canada Day?

Happy Canada Day and I am not apologizing for anything other than our apologetic nature today. It is good to be alive. There is an excellent editorial in the Globe and Mail this morning that should be mandatory reading for everyone in this country this weekend.

But before I get too far into a rant, let me give you my answer to the leading question. This morning I arose shortly after 5:00 a.m. (PDT) and after reading some news and sports and weather reports I went out to the garage and got out my trusty 20+ year-old mountain bike and went off on a wee ride. As I started (unfortunately on a downhill grade which allowed me to coast at 35+ km/hr and thus reminding me that I would have to bike up the long incline before I would get brekkie!!) I was reminded of the time — New Year’s morning 1987 — when living in Vancouver I got up at sunrise and also went out for a bike ride. Then I came home and wrote postcards to some of my friends and acquaintances in other more wintery parts of Canada and told them of my adventure. Today I won’t do that. Today, due to the fact that biking has been very intermittent this year, the experience was both invigorating and occasionally painful. Perhaps I need a new bike-seat; maybe even an electric assist for the homeward pedal!!

But let me put that negative talk aside and comment on the other parts of the ride… the stuff that made the ride truly a Canada Day celebration. Firstly I was glad that I long ago got over the fact that my Scottish ancestors had their lands confiscated and were then summarily booted out of the country. I also am grateful that the people indigenous to this country, due to their theological beliefs that contend the Creator has all of us where the Creator wants us to be, welcomed my migrating Scottish ancestors to make a home here. My great grandfather returned the favour by donating part of his farm to make a school. Today a modern collegiate (on that same spot in greater Whitby) is named after him. I was also glad that the Plains Cree along with some other tribes welcomed my orphaned maternal Grandad to Saskatchewan to homestead where they remained friends. The whole community then welcomed my Irish grandmother who came out to teach (because there were no jobs for her in Ireland, and I’ve got over that bit of nastiness on the part of the school system in Ireland at the time too) — she turned out to be quite radical though as she wrote a letter to the local prairie school board asking that she be allowed to have books in the classroom for her students to read (I still have a copy of that letter).

After I gave thanks for all that, I also realized that I was able to bike along a bike path built beside a creek. No one was shooting at me. No one was following me with a camera or a pack of vicious police dogs. Moreover I was free to safely cross the road, ride along the beach of a beautiful lake, that while higher than normal, still is incredibly picturesque in the early morning light. And I watched several people freely paddling their kayaks while another was putting on a wet suit in preparation for a swim. It was another thankful moment.

Then as I crossed the outlet dam at Okanagan Lake and watched the torrents of water spewing forth I was thankful for the engineers that last century had put in this control structure to better manage both Okanagan Lake and the Okanagan River so that I could actually bike alongside both without being sucked into the violence of the high and rushing waters. I journeyed down the river, only having to cross the highway once due to the flooding waters preventing me from using an underpass. Many were walking the same route, some with their dogs, all with smiles and cheery hellos. The path is wide so that no one gets in anyone’s way — another thing to be thankful for. And most of the path is on land belonging to the Penticton Indian Band, the government of which maintains it and allows us free passage. For that I am thankful too — although today I did not meet the older gentleman who does the regular cleanup and minor maintenance, so I couldn’t thank him personally.

After getting to the end of the channel (at Skaha Lake) I then reversed course for a few hundred metres before crossing a new bridge and heading more or less uphill and meandering through city streets (many traversing the city’s industrial lands) towards home. As it was a holiday, traffic was light; but that did not lessen the degree of incline unfortunately. The 100+ metres that had caused me to speed happily on my way at the outset of my journey now became a formidable force intent on giving me pause to reflect on my earlier exuberant thankfulness. And then I realized that I was still thankful — partially for the lack of heavy volumes of traffic, but more for the very freedom to cycle through a city on dedicated bike lanes that neither obstruct the flow of motorized transportation vehicles nor preclude one from seeing many interesting sites. The most interesting along one such street is the construction of a new, mega-wing of the regional hospital. On a bike it is easier to see just how much has been done so far on this spreading edifice that will rise a goodly number of storeys.

Eventually I passed out of the industrial sector and back into a neighbourhood where there are many small, well-kept homes. Moreover this morning there were already a number of people out working in their gardens and flower beds. Others were walking their pets or having their morning jogs. I marveled at our collective acceptance of how easy it is to do all this without the sound of gunfire, or the yelling of ethnic slurs, or even the suspicion that someone might be growing something someone else might find un-tasty. There were even a couple of kids out playing tag on a school football field and no one was telling them that it was not built for that purpose. Finally I came back alongside the creek that runs passed our house and pedaled the final 400 metres with the sound of rushing water and feel of cooler air to somewhat sooth my aching body. I had no desire to complain. I had done all this freely and alone, without fear and trepidation, without trespass. It was a thankful moment and one that made Canada Day very special to me. I had had some time to myself, to reflect on all the good things that have transpired in my life, and no one was bothered, no one was worried, no one got in my way.

Thank you Canada… thank you Canadians…of all stripes, cultures, histories and outlooks…

And now as I write these thoughts I am interrupted by the sound overhead of a restored WW II Fortress Bomber in town for the day to remind us all that the sound I hear was a sound that many heard in another context. One where everything I did today could not be done. And I am thankful for this reminder…

This afternoon I will go to a Canada Day party. I will wear red. I will be happy and share my smile. Tonight I will go support the local Rotary group that puts on Ribfest. While I do like to eat and drink, I am happier to support a group that gives so much to our community and beyond. I am thankful, in part because they do so much which then allows me to do less.

Have a good day today. Be thankful. Be hopeful. Be happy.

g.w.