Category Archives: Lifestyle (MC Archive)

Lifestyle-related columns that appeared on Jason Menard’s previous Web site, Menard Communications.

Finding the Right Route

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By Jason Menard

So, the naysayers opine, who would rather trade in their car for a bus? Who are these people that will embrace the London Transit Commission’s commitment to more efficient service, eschewing their vehicles for public transport?

I’m one. I’ve done it before and loved it. The only reason I don’t do it now is practicality. Well, that and I love my family, so I’d like to see them sometime instead of laboriously meandering through the streets of London under the flickering lights of an overhead advertisement.

However, for any public transit venture to be successful, the principles need to stop thinking green and focus more on the black and white.

When we moved to London from Montreal a few years ago the first thing I did was check out the public transit situation. That way, I figured, I could take the bus to work, which would allow my wife to have use of the family car. But there was a problem with that equation – something that refused to allow it to add up. Time.

Simply put, it didn’t make sense for me to take the bus. When I lived in Montreal, I commuted across the island from my St-Laurent residence to the downtown core or the Old Port. What would have taken me an hour-and-a-half by car, fighting through gridlock and inflated parking prices, only took me 15 minutes by public transit.

That’s it. It made sense. For just over $50, I obtained a pass that would allow me to ride the bus, Métro (underground subway), and commuter train. That monthly outlay more than made up for the amount of money I would have spent during the same time frame on gas and parking (the cheaper rates around where I worked went for about $100 a month).

And while the money was nice, it was the time that was the key. I could leave work by 4:30 and be home easily before 5:00. I could spend time with my wife and kids, and all was good. Devoid of road rage, I came home rested, relaxed, and in a much better mood than had I driven home through rush-hour traffic, swearing all the while, and watching my blood pressure rise during a twice-daily commute.

An ancillary benefit was that I read more than I had in years! Before I had a hard time finding the time to read. When I was on the bus or train, I had all the time in the world to quietly enjoy a book.

But here, in London, it’s the opposite. A 10-minute commute by car takes over an hour-and-a-half. There are multiple stop-overs and a significant walk involved. It’s hardly an incentive to commute.

And people have to stop focusing on the environmental incentives for taking public transit. We get it. We don’t care. If we haven’t changed by now for that reason, we won’t. Stop thinking green and focus on the black and white – what’s in it for me? Make it convenient. Make it affordable. And make it effective, and we will come.

The Bus Rapid Transit system is a good start for debate. However, I don’t think we need to investigate bus lanes and the like right now. The city’s not big enough for that. The one thing that would improve service is to improve the buses’ routes and schedule.

Straight. Up and down. Intersecting routes. And a bus every 10 minutes during rush hour on major routes. That’s it. Part of the problem solved.

Our public transit system tries to be everything to everyone. Routes meander through subdivisions, in an attempt to ensure that everyone can get where they want to go. But usually the fastest way to get anywhere is in a straight line. We have major arteries in this city, let’s use them.

A bus running every 10 minutes up and down major east-west arteries like Dundas, Commissioners, Hamilton/Horton, Southdale, Oxford, and Fanshawe Park Road, and north-south routes such as Wellington, Wharncliffe, Wonderland, Richmond, and Adelaide should be the basis of any system. Then you start adding the ancillary buses off of these major routes. Less-frequent buses up streets like Exeter, Baseline, Bradley, and the like would help make the grid more accessible.

Prioritize the rush hours. On these key routes buses running every seven to 10 minutes between the hours of 7:00 a.m. and 9:30 a.m., and 4:00 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. would improve service.

Sure, it may take more than 10 minutes to get to work for me, but I’d sacrifice an extra 10-15 minutes to leave the car at home. After all, while some people may cling to their vehicle as a status symbol, personally it doesn’t do me much good sitting in the parking lot of my office for eight hours a day.

If London really wants to grow and be the city it thinks it is – or at least the city it thinks it can become – then we have to make an effort. After all, if we want to attract the masses, we need mass transit to get them where they want to go.

2007© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

The Bear Necessities

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By Jason Menard

It was a bitterly cold winter’s day in the city formerly known as Hull. The skies were clear, which made the cold outside bite a little harder. And as the car crested the small hill, off in the distance, we could begin to make out a shape. Blood red, arms and legs askew, alone in the parking lot. I gasped, my wife uttered the words, “I don’t believe it.” And in the back seat, my five-year-old daughter wailed.

Yes, Reddy Bear had been found. Now it was time to assess the damage.

But before we get to that, let’s provide a little back story. Reddy Bear is, in fact, a small red teddy bear, about the size of an adult’s hand, which was purchased many moons ago from some Roots store somewhere. Given to my daughter for her first Valentine’s Day back in 2002, the bear has become a fast friend to my daughter, and, by extension, a member of our family.

Odd? Not if you’re a parent. Many of us have children who have something in their lives that brings them a special comfort. Some children have a special blanket, others have imaginary friends, and many more have stuffed animals. And the thought of losing them is equally hard on both the child and the child’s parent.

Reddy Bear has undergone a number of changes over the years. When my daughter was old enough to talk, we discovered that Reddy was a boy. He was also her friend, Reddy. Later, as my daughter entered into the “playing mommy” stage, Reddy apparently made a side trip to Sweden, because she was now a girl (we still, sometimes, refer to Reddy as ‘he’) and had transformed into my daughter’s daughter.

After getting past the initial shock of being grandparents in our early 30s, my wife and I acquiesced to the fact that Reddy was special. Simply put, my daughter and Reddy play together, share confidences, and comfort each other in times of need. With that in mind, the question was now how do we make sure we don’t lose her?

It’s every parent’s fear. As much as our children love these creature comforts, they are still children and can, at times, be less than vigilant about taking care of their toys. This was doubly a concern when it became apparent that Reddy Bear was a significant part of our daughter’s sleeping routine. The thought of a night without Reddy conjured up the image of a tear-streaked face and the feeling of loss.

As silly as it appears – after all, it’s just a bear – parents will understand that their children’s attachment to these stuffed animals, special toys, blankets, etc. is very real and very deep. As easy as it is to say, ‘it’s not real’, it’s hard to deny the very real heartbreak that you can see in their faces when something this special goes missing. While my daughter will go a couple of nights without Reddy in bed – sometimes taking another stuffed animal in its stead – there truly is nothing like the real thing. Literally. Nothing. In fact, we have another identical Roots bear. Purchased at roughly the same time – except white. And while Snowbear is fun and all, he’s not Reddy.

We even contacted Roots stores throughout Canada, through the assistance of the company’s helpful – and indulgent – staff, looking for other red bears to buy as back-ups. And when that route failed to pay off, there have been repeated eBay searches – again, all in vain. So with no replacement, we’ve got to make this one last.

It’s not like we haven’t had close calls in the past. There was a trip from Montreal to London where, while getting something out of the trunk, Reddy almost made an unexpected stop in Kingston. There was also the trip to the mall, where Reddy found herself perched atop a garbage can as some kind stranger picked her off the floor and left her to be discovered.

But Hull was almost the end. Apparently, while getting my daughter situated in the car – not an easy task considering snowsuits and car seats – Reddy fell out into a grocery store parking lot. As my wife and I debated about whether Reddy had even made this trip (as opposed to staying in the luggage where we were) Reddy was left to fend for herself. Three hours later, en route to a New Year’s Eve dinner, we decided to take that fateful detour. And, miraculously to us, there she was, alone in the parking lot.

In the end, she appeared to have not been run over by passing cars. She was not taken or discarded. A little hand washing and a few tumbles in the dryer (not to mention repeated apologies by my daughter to her bear) Reddy was back as good as new. Eventually my daughter told us that Reddy had left the car to have lunch with a friend and was merely waiting for us – although she didn’t like waiting in the cold.

Another crisis was averted. However, let’s just say the grandparents are going to be even more vigilant – if that’s possible – about their furry, red granddaughter’s whereabouts from now on!

2007© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Delusion Key to Surviving Kids’ Concerts

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By Jason Menard

The true sign that the holiday season is in full swing? The fact that many of us willingly subject ourselves to the ear-splitting phenomenon known as The School Concert. And the greatest gift of all during these holiday concerts is the gift of self-delusion.

Well, perhaps I should amend that. It wouldn’t be ear-splitting if it were just my child performing. Your kids are terrible. Honestly.

My son, playing the clarinet, hits all the right notes, has the right tone and pacing, and displays a musical ability that obviously wasn’t passed down by his parents – or shared by many of his fellow band members. And my daughter sang with the voice of an angel, rising above the pedestrian voices from the rest of the school to shine like the star she is.

Of course, I may be biased.

And it’s that bias that makes these concerts tolerable. If I didn’t believe – like all parents – that my own kids were great, then the only plausible explanation for attending some of these events would be a penchant for self-mutilation. Seriously. The caterwauling at some of these events would have even the most ardent PETA activist clamouring to put down that injured cat.

Just as love is blind, so too can it be deaf – at least conveniently deaf. When we get together to watch a group of young children perform, we concern ourselves less with the quality of the performance than the quantity of the cuteness. A group of kindergarten-aged children can elicit oohs and aws just by appearing on stage in a collection of cute dresses.

But next time you have the opportunity to watch one of these performances, truly watch them. They are spectacularly bad, but enjoyable all the same. From stilted, shuffling dances to choirs singing what appears to be four or five different songs all at the same time, they can be entertaining in a sort of “watching a disaster unfold” manner.

Nowhere is this more evident than in musical performances. In any choral group you’ll have a collection of kids singing in time with the music, some who figure they can simply race through the song regardless of the beat, and others who just lip synch their way through the performance. And the same holds true for the band. Squeaks and squonks aside, some players play like they’ve never heard the song before – off key and off beat!

Of course, my kids are in the group who are on key and on time.

And that’s what we, as parents, all believe. That’s why a person can watch their kids up on stage, facing the wrong direction, with a finger up his or her nose, and still convince themselves that their child put on a virtuoso performance. And it’s that shared experiences that make these performances a joy for parents across the board.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all shared in how bad these things are. But we do so together, understanding that our children have poured their blood, sweat, and tears into these performances. It’s at times like this that we’re truly able to share in our kids’ imagination. When they get on stage they’re the prima ballerina, the concert pianist, or the award-winning actor. What to us appears as uncoordinated dancing to them is a routine worthy of Much Music.

That’s the greatest gift that these Christmas pageants can provide. They allow our kids to dream. To believe that they’re performing at the same level as the stars and professionals with whom they may be familiar. They don’t see the obvious flaws in their performances – they simply revel in the joy of performing. And when they think back upon those experiences their memories will be filtered through that combination of enthusiasm and fantasy.

To them, they’ll have all performed on time, on cue, synchronized, and in perfect harmony. And while they may, in truth, have sounded like wounded antelopes in heat, to them they’ll believe that they sang with the voices of angels, danced with the feet of prima ballerinas, and played with the grace and skill of the Philharmonic.

Well, at least that’s the case for your kids. Because it’s plain to see that mine performed perfectly. Of course.

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

The Other Side of the Vagrancy Coin

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By Jason Menard

It’s all too easy in our politically correct world to simply label people who express concerns about vagrancy as insensitive, elitist, or ignorant. The one idea we are reluctant to embrace the fact that they may be right.

We all want to do and say the right things, but sometimes it’s hard to reconcile what’s right and what’s real. Such is the case with the issue of vagrancy in the downtown core.

I do not spend as much time downtown as I would like. Or, more appropriately, I don’t spend as much time downtown as I think I should. For me, more conveniently located stores and lack of time have been the greatest factors in this reality. And the one excuse that many use always seemed false to me – until this weekend.

Fear.

We have reports from store owners saying that the presence of vagrants scares away potential clients. And I, like many others, were quick to dismiss these complaints as an indication that some people just aren’t sensitive to the needs of others. These vagrants are down on their luck and simply trying to survive. For whatever reasons or demons that drove them to this state, the fact of the matter is that vagrancy is the state in which they now find themselves.

It’s too easy to hold onto our left-wing, love everyone mentality when we’re looking through the green-tinted windows of our ivory towers. It’s when you get on the street level that the complexities of the problem truly reveal themselves.

Driving downtown on a lazy Sunday, I was struck by the sheer volume of down-on-their-luck men hanging around the corner of Horton and Wellington. It’s understandable due to the mission tucked in a little down the side street there, but to see the number was a stark reminder of how lucky we are.

But just as telling were the empty storefronts and depressed area that served as a backdrop for this collection of people. It’s a reminder of the impact that vagrancy can have on a region.

As one who loves to walk – and I spend as much time as I can walking the downtown streets, whether here, in Montreal, or Toronto, I take note of my surroundings. And looking at the collection of people standing around there, I thought to myself that this would be one path that I’d avoid.

Now, I’m a 33-year-old male. I’m about six-feet-tall and find myself wavering between the good and bad side of 200 pounds. And I was given pause to stop. What about my wife? What about my young son and daughter? Would they be comfortable walking through that environment? By extension, would an elderly couple, or group of young girls feel secure in the same situation? Can we not see that this may have an impact on people’s decisions on where and when to shop?

Obviously not everyone that’s a vagrant is violent. But there are some – just as there are in all walks of life – who can be violent, or who may be unstable. Are you willing to risk that type of encounter when there are malls and other shopping venues scattered throughout the city?

So what’s the solution? Simply shuffling vagrants off and putting them out of sight is akin to putting a bandage on the arm of someone who has cancer – it’s ineffective and eventually the patient dies from within. The issue of vagrancy is one that we have to tackle on a societal basis. We need to come up with programs and services to keep people off the street and help them either get the support they need, or reintegrate them into society. Now that’s easy to say, but seemingly impossible to do. The fact of the matter is that there is no fast and easy solution to homelessness here.

But the most important thing we need to do is stop being so quick to condemn those who are speaking only their truth. The idea of a storefront owner complaining about the presence of vagrants may appear to be callous, but it is their reality. Shoppers have choices and will stay away if they feel uncomfortable.

That may not represent the best that humanity has to offer, but it’s a truth nonetheless. Only listening to the truths that make us feel good while ignoring the realities that may not be as politically correct or uplifting doesn’t help us solve any of the problems that we face.

When you actually take a moment to walk a few steps in someone else’s shoes, then it’s a little easier to see that the path isn’t as rosy as we’d like to believe. And maybe by putting foot to pavement and getting a first-hand view of the problem, we can find some better solutions along the way.

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Get Your Christ Out of My Christmas

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By Jason Menard

OK, that’s it. I’m normally a pretty tolerant guy. I figure you’re welcome to believe whatever you want to believe (or not believe) as long as you’re not hurting or bothering anyone. But when a simple well-meant Merry Christmas has the same effect as hurling a racial epithet, then it’s time that we take a stand.

My stand? Get your Christ out of my Christmas!

There. I said it. Let’s celebrate Christmas for what it actually is – a celebration of joy, love, family, and giving at best. And an orgy of materialism, financial mismanagement, and stress at worst.

Personally, I’d rather focus on the former, but nothing turns me into a Scrooge more than some supercilious Christian looking down on me and chastising me for forgetting the true meaning of Christmas!

Apparently my view of truth differs than others. I thought the timing Christmas celebration was incorporated into the Christian religion was more tied into the pre-existing Saturnalia celebrations (a time when Romans would give gifts to their slaves – you know, to make up for a whole year of abuse, labour, and general flogging) than any sort of commemoration of labour pains!

In fact, let’s just deal with the idea that – despite what the song says – Christ was not born on Christmas Day. But don’t take my word for it – let’s hear what some experts have to say on the subject. For example, in the Gospel of Luke, it refers to the blessed event taking place during the Roman census, when Joseph and Mary visited Bethlehem.

“It has the shepherds tending their sheep in the fields at night. That doesn’t sound like December in the Holy Land,” said Father John A. Leies, professor of theology at St. Mary’s University, deep in the heart of Texas. “They wouldn’t be tending sheep in the winter.”

Certainly makes sense to me. But what else? Well, just do a little searching on the Internet – or even better, in books – and you’ll see that there are a wide range of beliefs regarding the actual timing of Christ’s birth ranging from Oct. 1 – the Day of Atonement, to some point in April or May. Most scholars, in fact, dismiss the idea that Christ was born on Christmas Day.

So, what then is the true meaning of Christmas? Because it seems that many are missing the boat both historically and philosophically.

Is it people grumbling under their breath, chastising those of us who enjoy the less-religious aspects of the holiday season? Perhaps my definition of Christian charity is a little wonky, but that certainly doesn’t seem to be the intent behind that concept.

Unfortunately, we’re so afraid to say anything to anyone that this season becomes a veritable vortex of hurt feelings, aspersions cast, and hypersensitivity. In fact, just this week some misguided, but well-intentioned, judge ordered the removal of a Christmas tree from a downtown Toronto courthouse due to the fact that it may offend non-Christians.

Let’s forget, for a moment, that the Yuletide tree itself is an icon conscripted by the Christians from Pagan religions – you know, just to make the heathens feel more at home once they finally convert. The modern idea of a Christmas tree is something that Santa comes to put presents under.

Ideally, let’s get the Christ out of Christmas. Let’s make it a wonderful celebration for each and every one of us! Let’s commemorate the holiday season by celebrating this wonderful confluence of all race, cultures, and creeds that grace this planet. Let’s make it a celebration of peace, joy, and love – one that crosses all ethnic and spiritual barriers.

In no way should the alleged son of some people’s God be the focus – especially not when his good deeds and life are taken in vain by those who allege to follow his lead. It’s hard to follow the tenets of “Love Thy Neighbour” and “Do Unto Others” when you’re looking down on those who don’t share your interpretation of the holidays.

Hey, I’m sure we can all come to a compromise! You get the Christ out of Christmas, and we’ll drop the name from the celebration. Some people already use Xmas, so we can go that route. Or, we can come up with an entirely new name for the celebration! Whatever. I don’t care. All I want is for us to celebrate life – not chastise each other.

So, to paraphrase Clement Clarke Moore: Now Athiests, now Agnostics, now Muslims and Christians; On Jewish, on Buddhists, on Taoists and Diwalians; Happy Xmas to all, and to all a good night!

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved