Melting Pot or Mosiac

Tomorrow we will celebrate Canada Day. It used to be known as Dominion Day when I was a kid. I have often wondered if the name change is a reflection of a deeper cultural shift. In other words, as we become more Canadian and less European, it begs the question: How do we define Canada?

That came close to home when I was getting gas the other night in Strathmore. The gas jockey, a fairly young guy in his mid-30s, turned out to actually be the owner. He not only was the owner of that particular station, but of two more – one in Taber, the other in Lethbridge. His roots were in Pakistan, and somewhere along the line, he and his family caught the dream of moving to a new land, and as a result, have become positive, ambitious members of our culture.

This is the way it should be when they come to Canada: move in, fit in, and buy in. This is part of the Canadian dream, the free entrepreneurial system that at least creates opportunities for economic advancement. Some of the greatest financial success stories have been written by impoverished immigrants who seized an opportunity here in Canada.

There is a richness in the diversity of nations that is woven into the fiber of this great country, and I not only want to encourage immigration, I want to actually expand it. The tension is found, on one hand, with the colour that they add to our culture and, on the other hand, blending it with what already exists.

Let's face it: We're all immigrants, some from a few generations ago, others from the USA where their grandparents pioneered the prairies, with others still in their formative years, having moved up from Mexico and Belize. A difference worth noting, as I see it, is that some of the immigrants bought into the vision of the new land, whereas others have tried to establish outposts of the old land they left. Clusters of cultural islands in the sea of Canadiana are good, not bad, but only so long as they are still part of the overall society.

Years ago in high school, I learned in that the USA was a melting pot, whereas Canada was a mosaic – at least when it came to immigration. Re-stated, most foreigners that came to the States adjusted to the American way of life; however, some of those that came to this country have tried to re-create their own. I think that the melting pot ideal has shifted in the USA, especially with all the so-called illegals (Spanish-speaking immigrants).

I love my country and I want to share it with the world. I just don't want to be Ireland West or Peru North, for example. I want the Irish and Peruvians to come here and become one of us. I don't even want them to become Irish-Canadian or Peruvian-Canadians, for example. (Don't get me going on the term "French-Canadian"; a rich heritage, indeed, but please drop the divisiveness.)

If people choose to come to Canada – and the more the merrier – let them come on our terms. For the sake of argument, try re-locating to, say, Russia, and demanding your own way of worshipping, communicating, and educating. You would be placed on the first plane out of the country, with a one-way ticket (and with hopefully enough gas to get across the Black Sea). Like my Pakistani acquaintance, to fit into that culture, I would need to move in, fit in, and buy in. That's how successful immigration works.

It is a big country and there is room for all of us. I have some really radical views on the connection between dying prairie towns and re-locating English-speaking foreigners to them. Even an interest-free loan, with some very rigid accountability, could be thrown in. I see a number of solutions with such a wise plan. But I will leave that for another day.

So it is Canada Day tomorrow. I wonder if our founding fathers, immigrants or children of immigrants themselves, of course, would have approved of this modern-day version of Canada. Somehow I think so, but they may have insisted upon many of the expectations that I have pointed out. A case in point would be how they opened up the prairies to the Europeans.

Happy birthday, Canada! May you age gracefully.

Do You Like Being a Father?

Son Number Five asked me something profound the other day: "Dad, do you like being a father?" Naturally, it caught me off guard, and I had no real answer for him. If I recall correctly, I slipped him a chocolate bar and he was soon distracted from his quest.

Mulling over his question got me thinking about the challenges we fathers face on a regular basis. I just trust someday I will have the answer he is looking for.

As Father's Day has just past, you have possibly wondered the same thing, namely, is being a father worth it these days? (Or you may be wondering, on the other hand, what to do with that gaudy tie you got.) There are sitcoms after comedies, movies after documentaries regarding inept, bumbling and idiotic fathers. Truth be told, there may be some facts in there somewhere. We all know of deadbeat dads. Today, I want to briefly discuss "livebeat" dads.

I continue to be moved (and relieved) by movies that portray fathers in a good light, even an exceptional light. Two that come to mind are "The Secret Garden" and "Finding Nemo." I won't go into details regarding a father's love for his son – a cripple boy and a lost boy, respectively – as you likely know the storyline. If for no other reason, it at least gives the rest of us dads excellent role models for what a father can do to to repair and renew broken relationships.

I am sure I have dabbled in my grammar rant here before about fathers: Anyone can be a verb father (ie., to father a child), but it takes a real man to be a noun father (to be a father to a child). Fatherhood is much, much more than a one-night tryst. I don't know which is worse: raising a child in a fatherless environment, or doing away with the unwanted pregnancy (we call it abortion) because there will be no father to help raise the child.

Either way, the moral, financial and emotional cost of such wanton disregard for life is incalculable.

I am on the electronic mailing list from the president of a positive prison outreach. You may have heard of him, a Mr. Chuck Colson. The incredible work that he and his team are doing in hundreds of prisons throughout North America is overwhelming. One of the things he is adamant about is the fact that much of the crime rate in North America (for starters) stems from homes where boys were raised without fathers.

My encouragement today is those who take fatherhood (versus fathering) seriously. The first step is being committed for life to the mother of the children you are responsible for. Easy? Sorry, I never said it would be easy. Marriage is work, good homes take effort, but the result is the difference between a society that is stable and secure, versus one that is going nowhere but down.

You're thinking "over-simplification" and I actually might even agree with you a little. However, I suggest that homes where the parents are committed to each other and the kids (and in that order, by the way) are producing healthier, happier, and stronger kids than not. Families need consistent parenting and the balance between a father's firmness and a mother's softness is the right combination.

You must understand my heart when I state the above: I am not dismissing the grief of an unwanted separation or divorce; nor am I saying that single parent (mom or dad) can't raise good kids. I simply maintain that a two-parent home is ideal – and by extension, the culture thrives – when fathers and mothers have their head in the game of raising kids.

Fatherhood has been one of the greatest challenges in my life. I have stayed committed to my wife in every possible way and have attempted to model a good life before my kids for the past 28 and 26 years, respectively. Still, I personally feel like a failure most days. Perhaps you do, too. I am committed to raising these kids to be active, positive contributors to the culture around them, at least to the best of my conviction.

And, Abel (he's the Son Number Five), with regard to to your question about fatherhood: Yes, I like being a father most days. And I trust that my love for you and your siblings comes through clearly. Sorry for my perpetual bumbling; I still feel like I am learning the ropes at this.

If you really want to make my day, son, take me out for a meal at Jimmy's.

Praise for Self Control

I saw a couple smooch for the very first time last week. Smooch, you say? Kiss, in other words? Very, very good. If I could, I would give you a sticker, but I'll resign myself to public acknowledgement in a community paper.

The couple in question did it in front of 300-plus of their friends: Their first kiss was at the altar (their wedding day, Horace), in a church in Calgary.

In my circles, this is becoming more the norm than not. While it may appear to be a throwback to the Victorian Era, where intimate relations were allegedly considered evil, nothing could be further from the truth. These are positive, principled young people are taking a stand against rampant how-far-can-we-go mentality. In today's culture, which is the polar opposite of the days of Queen Victoria, public lewdness is becoming more and more the norm.

It seems that all the walls of discretion are being battered down and thrown away, with the performing arts leading the way. Even the various levels of DVD ratings are misleading: The standards of one set of censors (Hollywood) is certainly not the standards of others (parents). Too often I have sat down to enjoy essentially a clean movie, only to discover to my horror, that what they have defined as borderline has actually crossed the line – at least in my conviction.

But I digress; please bear with my panting and ranting.

J. and E., the newlyweds, are very typical of many young couples that I am familiar with these days. My own daughter and her husband kissed for the first time on their memorable day last September. I appreciate any young couple's pursuit for purity, a desire for discipline – at least when it comes to giving in to what comes naturally.

Some couples seem weird if they "save themselves" for marriage, a most honourable but rare feat in today's permissive mindset. Apart from my personal biblical view of that, it makes a lot of sense at every level – be it physical, sexual, or emotional. I applaud all who take this approach.

But to go all the way (rather ironic way of stating it, yes?) by not even so much as kissing? Well, I turn my applause into cartwheels (just an expression, humans, just an expression). Saving oneself for one's wedding day, then every day after that, is like waiting till Christmas to open that prized present from that special person.

In other words, it makes that other gift (of intimacy) all the more significant.

So, to J. And E., wherever you are on your honeymoon, as well as to all the other couples committed to high standards of personal morality, kudos to you. Refraining from natural urges till the right time is the right thing to do. It will make your wedding day and married life all that much stronger and sweeter.

And such self-control is quite possibly the greatest gift lovers could ever give to each other.

Canada's Hockey Team

At the point of writing, Canada's hockey team – aka, the Vancouver Canucks – are laying down some heavy smack on the Chicago Blackhawks. Okay, four games a series does not make, but I like the way it's going. If things going according to fib and fantasy, it could be a Vancouver-Anaheim Western Conference final. (Oh shucks: Ducks versus 'Nucks.)

After that, it's off to the finals. I can see it now: Vancouver Canucks defeat the Carolina Hurricanes in six games to kiss Lord Stanley's mug. Uhmm, let me re-phrase that...

My loyalty to the Canucks started when they were in the Western Hockey League, back in the 60's. That is not, of course, the same western Hockey League that the 'Canes and Tigers play in. That version was more at an American Hockey League level. They were one skate away from the big leagues (aka, the Original Six), a line change that most players never got to make.

One of the few success stories back then was a young bruising defenseman by the name of Quinn. Pat Quinn.

I would sit there, glued to my (ahem) radio, cheering for the Canucks as they took on powerhouses such as the Phoenix Roadrunners, the Portland Buckeroos, the Seattle Totems, and the Victoria Maple Leafs. They played in the old Vancouver Forum, a building replaced years ago by the Pacific Coliseum (present home of the Vancouver Giants). GM Place then became the new home of the Canucks.

The Canucks have an awesome responsibility at this present time, being Canada's only team left in the run for the Cup. With the Edmonton Broilers (are they chicken or what?) and the Toronto Maple Laughs (that team is a joke – really) and the Ottawa Coachkillers (four coaches in just over a year) not even able to lurch into the play-offs, it was up to the other three Canadian teams to carry the burden of winning.

Well, thanks a lot, Calgary Dames: You couldn't hit, block, fight, or score – and that was only at a team practice. Heads will roll for sure, starting with Iron Mike's. (Forget the iron, Mike: The team needs to get the lead out.) Then there is the Montreal Canadiens, also known as the Habs. Well, the Habs became the Hab-nots when Boston swept them in four games. They too will be in for a significant overhaul, likely with Bob Gainey stepping down as coach and general manager.

It's funny, in a not-so-funny way, that the coach is the first victim of a re-structuring programme. I say funny, because it's not the coach who doesn't hit, block, fight, or score. He has some input as to how the plan is delivered, but there needs to be more accountablity on the players' part – like a reduction in salary if they don't deliver. With a crazy idea like that, it's no wonder I'm not the president of the NHLPA.

So the pressure remains in the Canucks' court or - as we say in hockey parlance - at their end of the rink.

I am confident that the Canucks can take the 'Hawks. In fact, by the time you read this, that may very well be the case. Whether they get by the Red Wings, I have my doubts. Let's just pray – can I say that still? - that Hiller is a killer and Osgood is no good.

Do I really care? Well, actually not really. I was disappointed when the Islanders (once a dynasty) took them in 1982, and the Rangers (with Iron Mike as the coach) did the same in 1994. This could be the year: After all, there is no team from New York to get in the way of Vancouver's destiny.

So if any members of Canada's favourite hockey team are reading this, I have a few words of advice for you: By the end of this month, do you want to be in the clubhouse or the locker room? Or what do you want in your hand in four weeks' time, a golf club or a hockey stick?

While you are at it, maybe you could remember how to spell: You see, the word you want to memorize is "score," not "fore."

The Unexpected Trip

Victoria Stafford. Brad Clemes. George Tiller.

Just a few reflections this week on three individuals that have been in the news recently. Not actually household names, to be sure, but names that have appeared in all the media outlets due to tragedies in their respective lives.

Let's take a brief look at all three: Little Victoria, from Woodstock, Ontario, was kidnapped weeks ago and has never been seen since. In one of justice's true ironies, two people have been arrested and charged with her murder, yet her body has never been recovered.

Brad Clemes is one of 228 souls that are missing and presumed drowned somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Mr. Clemes, a resident of Belgium, but a citizen of Canada, was a soft drink executive who was returning to Europe from trip to Brazil.

Then there is Tiller, gunned down while ushering at church a few days ago. That sounds horrendous enough, until one discovers that he was the infamous Dr. George Tiller, who, along with his minions of medical madmen, was directly and indirectly involved in the abortion of 60,000 innocent babies over the past twenty years. "A late-term abortionist" would be a precise description of the man.

I think any civilized person, and by extension, any civilized society, is repulsed at the thought of unplanned death - be it the death of sweet little girl simply going home after school, the strange tragedy of a plane crash, or the ambush of a citizen in a public arena.

Not for one moment do I equate any one of these deaths, however. As a father, I am sickened by the thought of someone taking and ravaging one of my kids. I don't know how civilized I would be if I came face to face with the murderer of one of my kids. While I don't think we know the whole family story yet, I do know that those responsible for young Tori's death should face the full force of justice.

Likewise, I am chilled by the thought that a simple trip on a plane could end in such a gruesome way. A simple jaunt, an unexpected interruption, and scores upon scores of lives are lost. I have a son going both ways on a plane to a wedding in the States very soon. Something and anything could go horribly wrong, though that won't stop me from letting him go.

I don't know the details of the motivation of the murderer of Dr. Tiller. Those in the pro-choice camp (a serious misnomer, if there ever was) will see this as further evidence that those who are in the whole life camp are crazed idiots. This is, of course, a lie, but I admit that there are extremists on each side of the fight - Tiller and his murderer being good examples. This also adds to the growing intolerance with what the Homeland Security people are dubbing "stateside terrorists." I don't think that the likes of Dr. Tiller should be gunned down, no matter how reprehensible his barbarian quest for a so-called woman's right was. Again, the person who took out Tiller should also be charged with first-degree murder.

Death. What a subject! No one wants to talk about, so we often come up with euphemisms (nice ways of saying bad things) for it. We use such expressions as "passed away," "met his Maker," or "is in a better place." Personally, I find that a polite way of discussing another's decease is most acceptable.

Age, health, income, culture, or even religion: It seems that none of these factor into preserving life or preventing death. I could be dead before this goes to print, or you could be, too. I am not here to preach to you about whether you are ready to die, whether there is life after death, or any questions about reincarnation, karma, hell, or just worm fodder. I would love to sometime, but that is not part of this column's mandate.

So, enjoy the present; you may not have the future. A walk home to your mother, a flight home from travelling abroad, or a morning in a public place of worship could be the last thing you do.

I would simply say that you should view death as an unexpected trip: Make sure your proverbial bags are packed and ready to go at all times. And when your ticket comes up, be ready to go.