Author Archives: Jay Menard

Parenting Lets Us Be a Kid Again

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By Jason Menard

Children are truly a gift. They enrich our lives, make us put things into a new perspective, and help us see what’s truly important. Those of us who have had the good fortune to have children have been blessed with a gift that will grow and blossom as the years pass.

Oh, and let’s not forget the toys!

While the politically correct thing to do when talking about our children is to wax poetic about the profound impact they have on our lives. And while all of those things are true, we parents have to admit that the toys are a pretty cool benefit too.

Having children allows us to relive our childhood. Take a grown man playing with Barbies in his basement, and you’d be ready to write him off as a borderline-psycho loner who probably hasn’t had a date in the past few years. But throw a three-year old daughter into the equation, and this more-than-creepy image morphs into a heart-warming expression of love between a father and daughter. A man lining up alone to see a Star Wars film? Probably living at home in his parents’ basement. However, when you add a son to the mix, then you have a devoted dad sharing a bonding moment with his child!

The most enduring films and TV shows are the ones that capture the imagination of our children, while appealing on another level to the adults who watch along with them. Shows like The Muppets and movies like Aladdin and the Shrek series resonate with our children because of the characters and the slapstick-style humour, whereas the parents are privy to another level of appreciation through carefully crafted dialogue and pop culture references. As The Simpsons has shown, kids will be drawn to the Bart and Lisa characters, whereas parents gravitate to the parents and the social commentary underlying each episode.

Kids let us revert to our childhood and recapture the innocence and freedom we enjoyed in our youth. Many parents will sit and complain about the quality of cartoons or movies directed towards our youth. We grumble and grouse and state that the shows of our youth were so much better. But it’s not a matter of whether or not we think they’re better or not: we’re just not-so-subtly trying to coerce our kids into watching what we did, so that we can justify our adult enjoyment of such childish pastimes.

Recently I was walking through a store and a DVD caught my eye, an anniversary edition of Schoolhouse Rock. In my youth, these brief snippets of animation were the highlight of my day. Wedged between Mary Lou Retton imploring me to get off the couch and exercise and Menudo showcasing its Latin-lite, choreographed vignettes, these slyly produced cartoons that mixed education with entertainment were captivating to me and many of my peers. The memories stuck with me so much that on a trip to Washington a few years back, I made sure to sit on the steps of the Capitol, singing quietly “I’m Just a Bill.”

The fact that I have an 11-year-old son and a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter made the decision to buy it a no-brainer. Not only could I make the purchase guilt-free, I’d also have a built-in reason to watch them! Fortunately, both kids seem to enjoy them, so all works out well in the end.

Obviously, as parents, we want to encourage our children to forge their own identities and explore their world. Just as childhood remembrances of The Electric Company, Star Wars, and the like have become shared points of reference for my generation, so too do my kids need to experience the memories and the cultural phenomena that will act as a common bond with the people they meet in the future. But if I can expose them to the occasional reference from my youth — then all the better.

The funny thing about all of this is that as we age, we’re constantly worried about whether or not we’re ready for parenthood. We question whether we have the maturity and the wherewithal to be good parents. But maybe we focus too much on the responsibility component of parenthood and not enough on the joy.

Growing up is a part of life, but who knew that having children would let us be a kid again?

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

What Ever Happened to Respect?

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By Jason Menard

Silence is not only golden – it’s respectful. Well, it is at least until the moment that some disrespectful moron chooses to misuse that honourable pause to draw attention to themselves with their 15 seconds of fame.

As the band Sloan once sang, “it’s not the band I hate, it’s their fans.” And that sentiment can be carried on to a select few attendees at our arenas and stadiums. When it comes learning how to show respect, Canadian sporting fans have a long way to go to.

An interesting parallel was broken at the recent home opener for the London Knights junior hockey club. When two veterans of combat came on to the ice to take part in an opening ceremony, they were greeted with a standing ovation from the assembled throng. But this is contrasted with a select few idiots choosing to use the singing of the national anthem as the background music for their sub-intellectual, puerile outbursts.

Does it not seem somewhat odd that we’re willing to stand and gratefully acknowledge the contributions that the veterans have made to the betterment of our society, yet when it comes to honouring the very flag and anthem for which they fought, we’re found woefully lacking?

Don’t get me wrong, I believe that sporting events should be a time of fun, excitement, and celebration. And I appreciate the overwhelming crescendo of applause and cheers that build as the anthem reaches its climax. But there is a time and place for everything, and interrupting our anthem in the middle to release a guttural, animalistic scream is disrespectful and insulting to all Canadians.

And this isn’t just a London thing. It happens all the time in arenas and stadiums across the country. Whether it’s hockey, football, baseball, or any other sport you can imagine, I’ve yet to find one sport that’s immune from the presence of this particular self-congratulatory glory hound.

Really, is in the middle of a song that represents our nation – one with which we should be standing at attention and singing along – the best time to shout “Go Team Go!?” Honestly, I’m pleased that at that moment you finally were able to muster enough brain cells to string two words together (I’m sure it helped that two were short and were the same word, though), but those are sentiments that don’t have a shelf life. They don’t need to be accompanied by Calixa Lavallée’s soundtrack, nor do they need Mr. Justice Robert Stanley Weir’s or Sir Adolphe-Basile Routhier’s (depending on which language, of course) lyrics serving as background vocals for your indispensable contribution to Canadian pride.

Of course, how can we expect to show our anthem the proper respect when we don’t place a premium on it in other aspects of life? Our children listen to the national anthem in school, but don’t sing along. In fact, my 11-year-old son states that many kids in his school talk through the anthem or otherwise act inappropriately. O Canada is an anthem of pride, but each year we see Remembrance Day inch closer and closer to irrelevancy due to the lack of interest we have.

This isn’t like the debate about prayer in school. There is no grey area. The moment we choose to live in this country, we are all Canadians. While each of us is encouraged to retain our social, cultural, and religious identities, we must also recognize that we are all Canadians. And the anthem, like the flag it represents, is a tangible representation of what it means to be Canadians and, as such, deserves respect.

The anthem is powerful. I remember attending an opening day for baseball’s Montreal Expos a few years back. When the anthem started, it was met with a small chorus of boos – which is political expression at its best. But instead of being overwhelmed, the others in the packed stadium sang with all their hearts and voices, the volume rising until the naysayers were overwhelmed. The sense of Canadiana and connection to each other was palpable and it was one of the most moving experiences. At that moment, I truly felt what it meant to be proud of our country. I was able to express outwardly what I’ve always felt inwardly.

We need more moments like that. We need to express our pride to truly feel our pride. And that needs to be done without some moron interrupting the process. Showing pride in our country isn’t the domain of beer commercials – it’s up to each and every one of us to take a stand and use these moments to showcase the best that the country has to offer.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

An Animal is Most Dangerous When Cornered

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By Jason Menard

They say an animal is most dangerous when cornered. With that in mind, if we continue to chase after Karla Homolka, at this rate, the public as a whole will bear part of the responsibility if she lashes out again.

Canadians, who believe that the plea bargain that Homolka, who now goes by the name Teale, signed was a deal with the devil that should be rescinded, have zealously attempted to ensure that she can never return to a normal life. Instead of placing our faith in the justice system and hoping that the demons that drove Homolka to commit such horrible crimes have been exorcised during her incarceration, Canadians are taking out their fury against Homolka and resorting to vigilante tactics.

But to what end? What does the constant chasing down of Homolka do in the long run? What does forcing her from one home in Montreal to another do? How does chasing her out of one job to another benefit us? Most importantly, if we don’t let Homolka live her life in the light of day, why should we be surprised if she finds solace and comfort in the dark underground?

What Homolka did to the French and Mahaffey families, and her own kin was and is horrific, unforgivable, and sub-human. However, what we’re doing with our frenzied hunt for Homolka is driving her to exactly the element that she should not be associated with. If she cannot find acceptance, as limited as it may deserve to be, in regular society, why would we be surprised if she finds comfort in the darker segments of our society? We’ve seen what happens when Karla is influenced by dark, so why are we working so hard to drive her back there?

We want her in the light of day, trying to remake her life, and subject to the strict terms of her release. Our anger against a judicial system that, in retrospect, made a significant error in judgment clouds the fact that that very same system has tried to make amends for its earlier error by enforcing strict restrictions against Homolka’s freedom.

Forced to notify the authorities of every move she makes, down to changes of her appearance, Homolka’s freedom is not as absolute as the angered masses believe it to be. Yes, she’s no longer behind bars, but her emotional and social prison extends wherever she goes. In this brief period of time since Homolka’s incarceration has ended, we’ve seen what type of life that she’s going to be subject to. Whether it’s co-workers, employers, or casual contacts who are ready to run to the media for their 15 minutes, or a media eager to continue publishing photos and stories on a grizzly topic that’s captured the Canadian interest, Homolka will never truly be free.

That may be small comfort to the families who were irreparably damaged by Homolka’s actions, but, as hard as it may be for those in our society who feel cheated by Homolka’s plea bargain and light sentence for such horrific crimes, we have to let go of the anger and trust in our authorities. What we have to remember is that we have the animal caged, albeit not behind bars. However, if we keep poking the animal with a stick, why should we not expect it to lash back out of anger and frustration?

When we resort to vigilantism, we become no less of a monster than Homolka and Paul Bernardo are or were. This escalation of anger can have no positive resolution. And, if someone decides to go to the extreme and chooses to perform a violent in retribution for the loss of life, then we truly have lost our humanity. There is no greater good that would ever justify an evil act.

We, as a society, do not have to forgive or forget what Karla Homolka did. But what we have to do is live with the situation as it presents itself. Whether or not we agree with the actions of the police, the judicial system, or the penal system during the time of the trial or since, what was done is in the past, and we have to deal with the present. We don’t have to turn a blind eye to Homolka, but we have to make sure that we don’t poison the situation with a jaundiced one. While we can’t rewrite history and atone for the mistakes of the past, we will have to live with the consequences of our actions for the future.

No amount of harassment, hounding, or vigilante justice towards Karla Homolka can bring back Leslie Mahaffey, Kristen French, or Tammy Homolka. But if we continue to use these tactics, why should we be surprised if the animal strikes again? And who would we have to blame, other than ourselves?

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

My Dancing Machine’s in Need of an Overhaul

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By Jason Menard

Thankfully, they don’t often surround dance floors with mirrors, because if they did our feet would be firmly rooted to the ground.

Dance is one of the wonderful ways we have to express our joy and happiness, and celebrate life. And from African tribal dancers to intricately choreographed professional routines, dance at its finest can be awe-inspiring and a beauty to behold.

Then there are the wedding dancers.

I admit that, in my youth, my friends and I went to the clubs on a regular basis and spent the majority of the time internally lubricating our joints to better shake our tail feathers. Now, in my early 30s and with a family, we don’t hit the clubs anymore.

Mostly, I don’t want to be That Guy (uppercase intended). Think back to your club days and you’ll remember That Guy. He was the one that was clearly much older than the crowd and kind of gave you that creepy feeling all through the night as he stood nodding and winking to everyone in the corner.

As we age and try to avoid being That Guy, seemingly the only opportunities to dance become social events, such as weddings and corporate parties. So the times when I can dust off my-my-my boogie shoes are few and far between – and that’s probably a good thing.

In my head, when I hit the dance floor I’m Denny Terrio. Wait, I take that back, not even Denny Terrio wants that title. My point is such that in my head I feel the funk, y’all, and let it flow. Yet the funky vibe seems to get a little distorted when it gets to my hips. My body’s connected by soul, but each part seems to be skipping a beat. I think I’m a good dancer, but the jury is still out.

And I’m not alone. I recently attended a wedding, and that’s where you’ll find both the best and worst that dancing has to offer! I’m sure that if you watched a video of a wedding dance floor with the sound off, you’d never be able to tell to which song people are dancing, because we all seem to be moving to the beat of our individual drummers.

Increasingly, I’m aware that this is truly a Guy Thing. You watch a bunch of women together on a dance floor and they look good doing that thing they do. They’re moving in unison, actually engaging in conversation without losing track of their footing, and making it flow effortlessly. That is until The Guy enters the fray. As if by conditioning, the women will slowly start to fan out – creating a perimeter of safety as it was – to give the new, estrogen-challenged, dance the room he needs to do his thing, and to prevent them from getting hurt. After all, they’ve all been moving in some intrinsically choreographed motion and now along comes The Guy – a walking potential concussion with elbows flailing and feet moving in time to a song that’s yet to be written!

In fact, dealing with the discomfort that music can bring has long been a rite of passage for any guy. It’s why Stairway to Heaven was the last song played at our high school dance. Sure, it was great to get that last dance with the girl you’ve been working up the nerve to ask all night. Even better, you’d get to dance with her for a whole eight minutes – or so you thought. Then came that awkward time in the song where the bass recorders drifted away and the first beat of the drum hit. Instantly the tempo moved up a pace and we struggled to maintain our decorum in front of the girl (who never seemed to be disturbed by the change.) Finally, Jimmy Page’s guitar solo hit, the whole song picks up speed, and your careful slow dancing routine is thrown out the window! It’s either break the clench and try some ham-fisted mid-tempo individual dance, or whip her around wildly to the song, riding out the sonic waves until Robert Plant brings it home, “… and she’s buy-i-i-ing a stairway….”

Your ability to handle that moment of time marked the passage from boyhood to manhood. You had graduated to the big leagues – riding the peak of club dancing to its inevitable nadir of wedding and company party dancing.

So, as we get older, the dancing machines that are our bodies start to rust, and the music of our generation moves to the oldies’ station, how do we handle the transition? We do what it appears most of us are doing anyways.

We dance with the burning passion of our souls. We dance with a smile on our face and the joy in our heart, knowing that while our bodies may not be in step with the music, our souls have embraced the beat. And when someone asks, ‘What song is That Guy dancing to?’ we can confidently reply that we’re all just moving to the soundtrack of life.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

NHL Scores with OLN Deal

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By Jason Menard

Just because it’s on the Outdoor Life Network doesn’t mean that the NHL has been put out to pasture. In fact, the NHL can finally revel in the fact that it’s been put on a pedestal and will get the respect that the game deserves.

Getting away from ESPN’s hipper-than-thou style of bluster and bombast can only help put the focus back on the ice, where it needs to be. Instead of focusing on ESPN’s fast-talking, cliché-ridden, telecasts, they’ve moved to a channel that is content in letting the story develop on its own, without all the bells and whistles.

What ESPN – and, unfortunately, its Canadian subsidiary TSN has been moving the same way – sells is watered-down, forced cool to its target demographic of yearning-to-be-hip teenagers and early 20-year-olds. Every highlight recap is rife with attempts at edgy witticisms, strained pop culture references, and puerile puns. Each broadcast is more about selling the sizzle while ignoring the steak.

However, the very nature of the Outdoor Life Network’s programming means that its viewership is accustomed to savouring the meat of the broadcast. After all, this is a channel that features fishing as a significant aspect of its daily programming. With all apologies to all the anglers out there, there’s nothing sexy about fishing. The channel’s viewers appreciate the programming for its own, and instead of being blinded by the pomp and circumstance that ESPN/TSN’s viewers are enamoured of, they’re more tolerant of letting the game speak for itself.

And really, that’s what we love about hockey. It’s a game best served stripped of all the extras that ESPN revels in. It’s as simple as black and white – puck and ice. That’s what’s made the CBC’s Hockey Night in Canada so successful. There is a reverence for the game that comes across with every broadcast as they’ve chosen to focus on the game, not the extras. It’s a concept that the American networks have ignored in the past.

Watch an American football game and it’s hard to see the on-field action for all the crawls, scoreboards, and animations that crowd the screen. But at least the stop-start action of the NFL lends itself to this deluge of information. The fluidity and grace of hockey at its finest needs to be appreciated in its entirety – the simplicity of a black puck on white ice gets overwhelmed by encroaching statistics, graphics, and overlays.

While laudable in its attempts to bring hockey to the masses, Fox swung and missed in its attempt to aid the viewing public. Whether it was the distracting fuzzy blue dot that made it look like our game’s finest were stickhandling a beach ball or the digitally created vapour trail added to every shot and pass, the additions served to distract viewers from the actual game action. Instead of appreciating the game’s speed, grace, and beauty, they were drawn to non-integral artificial additions.

Even watching a game on American TV just doesn’t feel right. The camera angles are too wide or too close. They lack the intuitive feel that the CBC has mastered with its generations of broadcasting history. Most importantly, they lack the reverence and respect for the game that comes through on each and every Hockey Night in Canada broadcast.

So, instead of being an afterthought on ESPN, buried behind other sports that are more ingrained in the U.S. viewers’ psyches – an afterthought on the broadcast schedule, the NHL now becomes the marquee property for a cable channel backed by the financial clout of Comcast.

Instead of being shuffled around the schedule, fit in where time permits, and generally ignored in promotions, the NHL now benefits from a consistency of broadcast – 58 games exclusively shown on the network on Monday and Tuesday nights. Even the additional features have been designed to get people closer to the game – miked players, net cams, and more access to players and coaches both on and off the ice.

Welcome to the Outdoor Life Network NHL. While some Canadians may mock the league as it takes a place alongside bull riding, the Tour de France, and professional yachting, the fact of the matter is that hockey will move to the front of the pack on OLN. Much as Hockey Night in Canada is the CBC’s flagship show, so too will hockey become the dominant property of the Outdoor Life Network.

For American viewers, that means they’ll finally get to see the game treated with the respect it deserves. And maybe now they’ll see why our little game of shinny played on a frozen pond fans the flames of our passion north of the border.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved