Foremost on my Mind: Independence!

Independence. It sounds good, looks good, and feels good. Well, sort of.

You think you get it when you move out of your parents' home, and away from all their rules. It's yours, maybe, when you get your driver's license and later, your first car. They tell you independence happens when you get a real job and the financial independence that goes along with that. And it's true that getting married could be a form of independence.

I say “independence” and you think of Crimea getting their “independence” from Ukraine. Or South Sudan from Sudan. Well, sort of. Closer to home--and the catalyst for today's column--the independent faction in Quebec got their collective butts kicked in their recent election.

And that would include being handed to them on a platter, to be precise.

I'm not a politician nor the son of a politician, but I do follow public life issues. So I was interested in the outcome of last week's election in Quebec, mostly because of this persistent burr in the federal saddle: Quebec's push for a sovereign state within a federal dominion.

Provincial politics still intrigues me. If I ever got involved, I would embrace the conservative side of things (surprise, surprise)—you know, the fiscally, morally, educationally, and medically conservative side.

The term “conservative” has fallen on hard times these days: Those that carry the name are anything but (at least in most provinces); or, the name conjures up images of outdated policies, concrete thinking, and male chauvinism.

Sometimes that's true, but mostly it's political mudslinging.

To conserve really means to be cautious, constrained, and careful. We need that sort of leadership at every level in this country. Those are good principles when leading any jurisdiction—including the family.

Meanwhile, back in Quebec, our friends said “yes” to those conservative principles and “no” in a very big way to independence —or at least a referendum on Quebec sovereignty--by voting in a conservative government. It seems that common sense prevailed. The people, marked by an overwhelming fit of the greater good, have spoken, loudly and clearly.

The Liberal party that thumped the Parti Quebecois, so far as I know, is very much like the Liberal party of British Columbia, namely, more liberal than Conservative, but more conservative than Liberal. (Please note which words have the capitals; it actually does make sense.)

If you're still confused, look at federal politics as an example: BC and Quebec's Liberals would be somewhere between Stephen Harper and Justin Trudeau—just to the right of centre.

Independence has a cost, and wiser heads prevailed in Quebec recently. Unseen costs and hitches plague every everyone who breaks away. Unknown demands and crises show up at one's door on a regular basis. Unwelcomed pressure points are part and parcel of independence.

You're probably saying, “Do you mean a kid leaving home or a province breaking away?”--and the answer is “Yes.”

You see, leaving one's parents' home is fun and exhilarating—for a few weeks—as is that newly- obtained driver's license, the car, and the new job. Everything has a price, nothing is free, and euphoria is soon replaced by reality, freedom is trumped by tasks, and independence is supplanted by dependence.

Now, frame the above around any independence movement, and you get the picture.

Whether it's Quebec or some African outpost, sometimes independence is a horrific pipe dream, with a steep price to pay. Some day we should examine the disaster of the African nations' pursuit of independence, not only in terms of what they left behind, but what they have become.

It seems that the voters in Quebec may have learned that lesson in advance.

Foremost on my Mind: The Ugly Side of Spring

We are now sitting at the time of year I call “the ugly side of spring.” It's not winter, it's not spring, and it's not pretty. But I do like it only because we are (hopefully) only weeks away from the the pretty side of spring.

So “pretty ugly” would be somewhere in between.

I take it you're dying for me to explain what I mean by “ugly side of spring.” Well, it's the time between the snow and the grow (aka the white and the green), and the ice rink and the golf course (which would be the white and the greens).

I know we've had a long winter, and who's to say we're finished with the snow and the ice? After all, it's Alberta and it's not early June (it's only early April). We all have our stories, and mine is that I have driven to a wedding in the sun in June and driven home in the snow--all in the same day.

The ground cover slowly recedes in March, so by the end of March and beginning of April (that would be now, Maurice), we tend to get this soupy, bleached surface, commonly known as grass, that's part of a lawn, pasture, or playground. Until then, though, rubber boots are the footwear of the day.

Chores can be odious enough, but I hate doing them at this time of year for the above reason. Between the muck and grime around my hay bales, it really adds to the workload of feeding my cows. And those who have real cow/calf operations will feel it even more (pun blessedly intended).

On the one hand, I am glad to get rid of the snow and the ice, but there is something pristine and pure about the white stuff. It's everywhere it should be, and sometimes where it shouldn't be. The ideal is to have snow-covered fields, with dry pavement on the highways. But the key is that it also acts as a cover-up for the mess beneath.

Imagine snow as a blanket or a rug: Peel it away and you might be surprised what's underneath.

Another advantage of the white stuff is that there is minimal risk for prairie fires. Buildings may burn—I lost two houses in the middle of a snow-covered property—but fields will not. That changes where spring turns to summer, summer to fall.

But the ugliest side to spring, if you will, involves a completely different world, namely, the other, bigger world out there—hockey. That would have been my reference to “the ice rink and the golf course.” Within a couple of weeks, certain teams will trade hockey sticks for golf clubs, while others will “play on” in the play-offs.

Boy, am I witty or what? (Who just said “what”?)

You see, there is this enterprise called the National Hockey League, a business in which grown millionaires play a boys' game for a few months of the year, many until the end of May or early June.

That is, unless your team name rhymes with Oilers, Flames, or Canucks.

That then becomes another reason I call this the “ugly part of spring.” You see, in the fall and winter, there is hope, optimism, and some national pride in this sport we call our Canadian pastime. But by the time January and February roll around, hope becomes angst, optimism becomes doubt, and the emphasis of national pride in hockey slowly slides into baseball.

Or, as Cousin Reggie would say, that would be a shift from the Toronto Maple Laughs to the Toronto Boo Jays

And all the terminology I used for mucky, soupy, and grimy ground surface comes into play for how I feel about the Edmontons, Calgarys, Vancouvers, Winnipegs, Torontos, and Ottawas of our world.

Oh well, when it comes to grassland or Canadian teams in hockey, it's been a long, hard winter and is gearing up to be yet another ugly spring.

Foremost on my Mind: A Little Myth-understanding

There are many myths out there in Neverland, and as we continue to leave our brains at the proverbial door, these myths assume the status of reality. But challenging these myths comes with a major personal risk.

I know a lot of them, but let me start out by singling out the teaching profession, of which I am a happy and satisfied member. There are a lot of myths about the competency and authority of the institution of all day school education—be it the board, administration, teachers, curriculum, and even the grading formula.

Challenging that model in the form of home education, for example, has been a long process.

Today's paper is not about this form of schooling versus that form of schooling. I believe—and I say this publicly and sincerely—that there is a place for each form of education. The key is for the parents (not the school) to have more say and control, the needs (not the whims) of the child must be considered, and the curriculum must reflect the wise preparation for the real world.

I have many, many friends who are committed to each model, and I respect their individual choices. They are caring, genuine, and very capable, and I laud them all. Personally, I enjoy being in the classroom of a private school (most days!), but my wife (also a certified teacher) and I have opted for the homeschool model. It has worked well for us.

To repeat, this column is not as much about schooling options as it is about challenging myths. There are many myths about professionals who are always right, be they teachers, bankers, contractors, media, or even doctors. They have the training and certification, we say, so they must be right.

Yes, they should be right, but they could be guilty of a. their own bias; b. false information when they were being trained; and c. on that basis, repeating the same mistake(s) for the past ten, twenty, even thirty years. As parents and citizens, we must never take everything we hear at face value. To be sure, we must maintain a balance between gullibility and cynicism.

Let's consider doctors, for example—and along with doctors, the whole medical profession. We have been programmed from the get-go from such venerable institutions as the World Health Organization (WHO) that we must be vaccinated. This is passed down throughout each medical jurisdiction in Canada, from downtown Toronto, Ontario, to Burdett, Alberta.

You say WHO and I say, “boo-who.”

If you question the value and veracity of vaccinations, you're seen as some sort of wacko from Waco.

Or at least that's how Jenny McCarthy must feel. I don't know Jenny McCarthy from Joseph McCarthy, but she is taking it on the chin for simply stating that she will not have her kids immunized. There has been quite hue and cry since she opined on vaccinations.

What I find in this scenario so woefully disappointing is the fact that we cannot disagree with certain cherished, collectively-accepted habits, or even challenge them. The myth that drinking raw milk is dangerous would be one; the myth that traditional marriage is flawed is another.

In a free and democratic society (remember those days?), one of the freedoms we enjoyed was the freedom of speech, to express our views that might be different from the status quo. It seems that if we challenge the myths of same-sex marriage, abortion, euthanasia, and now vaccinations, we're seen as neanderthal morons.

So, we're neanderthals because we don't accept the status quo? We're morons because we think outside the box?

Whether I agree with Ms. McCarthy or not is irrelevant. A little myth-busting on the part of the populace may be in order here. I think we should all do due diligence when it comes to the side effects of vaccinations, looking for what exactly is being put into the bodies of our children, and the direct (not indirect or assumed) result there is between immunization and disease.

Oops, I think my bias is showing.

Not enough parents do that. Ultimately, though, they should have the final say and control as to what happens to their children. While they may not be certified, per se, they certainly are qualified. Again, parental rights and responsibilities are a mark of a free and democratic society.

But don't take my word for it: Check it out for yourself. Maybe the basis for what what I'm saying is a myth. If you disagree with me, I won't take it personally. After all, these issues are too important to be “myth-taken” about.