Ignorance Not Just an American Trait

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By Jason Menard

Har-dee-har! A recent survey reported on by the Associated Press shows that Americans are geographically challenged. And while it’s certainly tempting to sit on our high horse and chuckle over our dunderheaded friends to the south, in many ways, we’re no better.

The survey of 510 people interviewed in December 2005 and January 2006 showed that one-third of the respondents couldn’t find Louisiana on a map – despite the recent blanket coverage of Hurricane Katrina. On top of that, only 14 per cent believe speaking another language is a necessary skill, 60 per cent couldn’t find Iraq on a map of the Middle East, and almost half couldn’t find the Indian subcontinent on a map of Asia.

Time to guffaw right? Hey, what about that episode of Oprah recently that cast its supercilious eye on the education system in the U.S. and juxtaposed American students and their counterparts in the Far East reciting the first five American Presidents. Guess which group fared well.

But, as President Bush once so aptly put, “Fool me once, shame on, shame on you. Fool me – you can’t get fooled again.”

Are we truly any better? We like to think that we are, but is it really true. While we love to show how enlightened we are by displaying our understanding and knowledge of American history and politics, how well do we know our own country?

Quick, name the first five Canadian Prime Ministers. Can you do it? Chances are you could name off Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe before you could ever nail Canada’s first five. OK, Sir. John A. is a given. And you’ll get double points for noting that he served twice. But really, did you honestly get Mackenzie, Abbott, Thompson, and Bowell? If you did you’re a better Canadian than I, because I had to look them up. Hell, I’m proud that I know who Charles Tupper is, but don’t ask me when he served.

We grow up learning an overview of Canadian history. We go over the three Cs of Canadiana: Cabot, Cartier, and Champlain. We cruise through the War of 1812, we learn about the British North America Act and Confederation. But does the average Canadian know any more about his or her own country than our neighbours to the south?

As Canadians, we often mock Americans as being almost xenophobic in their analysis of history. If it ain’t red, white, and blue, it doesn’t matter to you appears to be the model. But in a classic example of what it is to be a Canadian, we focus more on the history south of the 49 th than we ever do our own history. We complain when we’re ignored on the global stage, but we ignore the stories we’ve penned in our own back yard.

We externalize. We validate ourselves by what others think about us, as opposed to how we feel. That’s why we take such an active interest in the world around us – we’re desperate to make sure we’re a player on the global stage. Our ability to find other countries on the map reeks more of desperation than a commitment to intellectual pursuits.

Whether it’s Canadian TV, music, film, history, or even — to an extent – politics, we need outsiders to validate our experience. Say what you want about what the Americans don’t know about the world. There’s certainly a lot we can learn from them about appreciating what you have on your own.

That’s not to say the American model is ideal. There should be a balance between national pride and global awareness. Ignorance in any form should not be tolerated. We should strive to learn more – more about the people around us, their languages, their cultures, and their history, in addition to all the things that have made our country great.

However, the high horse that we’re sitting on rocks violently. Our glee in reveling in American ignorance only masks the lack of introspection we’ve undertaken in examining our own faults. We’re no better, no worse – in fact, we’re the same in a different way. If the Americans are the noisy neighbours who come and go as they please, party all night, and generally disrespect even the existence of those who live around them, we Canadians are no better in being the neighbour that runs around to everyone’s home, snootily making comments, while our own home and family is neglected.

As the old adage states, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones – especially when we don’t even know who built the house we live in.

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Less May Not Be More

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By Jason Menard

With the budget announcement looming and the income tax filing deadline just in the past, it’s an interesting time to consider what Canadians want from their government.

Finance Minister Jim Flaherty states that Canadians are facing an “excessive” tax burden. And, while that may be true, do we really want it to change? What are our alternatives? Is less taxation the answer?

Or are our elected representatives simply not asking the right question?

For many Canadians the issue is not simply one of too much tax, but rather the fact that our taxes are not being properly used. The much-debated one per cent cut of the GST is a simple sound-bite ready move to offer immediate sating our immediate ravenous appetite without tackling the larger issue of our hunger.

The GST, which due to the fact that it’s a consumption tax and therefore is actually one of our fairest taxes, is despised not for its existence, but for the fact that it was never applied as specified. Initially levied in order to cut down the country’s crushing debt, the GST has become just another cash cow from which our federal government can milk Canadians’ wallets.

However, if the funds were applied as prescribed, our deficit eliminated, and the debt paid down, would Canadians object? Would a minority that wields an inordinate amount of power in our first-past-the-post system of elections be swayed in an election to offer a negligible cut in a valuable tax?

Probably not. But we’re not being asked that questions now, are we?

The addition of $100 per month for child-care expenses? Great for those of us with stay-at-home spouses, not so good for those who truly need daycare. When in Quebec, we were able to take advantage of the then-$5-a-day system. Coming to Ontario and facing $30-ish costs per day, that $100 would simply provide us with a week’s worth of care.

Am I going to look a gift $100 in the mouth? No. But would I rather that my money go back into the creation of an effective system? You’re damn right!

And that’s the key. Canadians don’t want less taxes, they just want to make sure that we’re getting the most value for our buck. We don’t want duplication of effort, multiple levels of bureaucracy eating up funds and delaying processes between federal and provincial governments. Nor do we want to throw money after proven ineffective business models.

We, as Canadians, are proud to have access to universal health care and are willing to pay a premium through taxations to do so. We, as Canadians, in large part value our social programs and see the benefit in providing support for various segments of our society that may need it. We see the value of education, we see the value of environmentalism, and we see the need for a social conscience.

But what we also see is the fact that a significant number of those tax dollars are being misspent. We see hospital emergency rooms closing as school classes bulge due to lack of funding, yet more and more money is being siphoned from our wallets.

So, as Flaherty prepares to wow us with a budget that promises a reduction in our taxes, do we have any faith that the government is suddenly going to become astute money managers and be able to do more with less? No.

Canadians may be one of the most taxed nations in the world, but we’re fine with that as long as we get what we pay for. The question shouldn’t be one of whether we’d like to pay less taxes, but rather one of would we rather our government does a better job with the taxes it gets now?

And that’s an answer I’m sure we’re all in agreement on.

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Follicular Follies More Like Hair Horror

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By Jason Menard

If ever someone decides I need to be punished, may I suggest forgoing the electric chair – any chair at a nearby hair-cutting establishment will suffice.

Normally, I’m fairly vocal in expressing both my preferences and my displeasures, but when it comes to hair cuts, I clam up and watch silently as untold horrors are wreaked upon my follicles. Maybe it’s the proximity of razor-sharp implements to areas I consider vital, such as the eyes, ears, and windpipe, that keeps me quiet. But I know I’m not alone.

I’m usually good in social situations. While I don’t seek them out, I engage in conversation casually and with dexterity. I consider myself knowledgeable about a wide range of topics and feel confident in my ability to express an opinion based upon fact and personal conviction. But that ability appears to get sucked out of me the second that little smock gets wrapped around my neck – its clasp the visual representation of my internal chains that render me helpless.

Trust me, there’s no Fabio-esque long-flowing locks here. I have the definition of low-maintenance hair. In fact, I only recently emerged from the 1980s and gave up the discount bin-dwelling, little-used gel for the more expensive – and contemporary — “product.” Something that goes by the name of moulding putty. I step out of the shadow, tussle it a little to encourage it to return to its upright position, and go. That said, there’s not too much one can do to my hair.

It’s straight. I mean, straighter than straight. You could calibrate instruments off of just one strand, because there’s absolutely no deviation or curl. And it’s fine, so there’s even less to deal with. Yet still, my head seems to be a magnet for hairstylist mistakes. In fact, I’m pretty sure the head mannequins used in beginner hair styling courses are modeled after my cranium.

Yet still every venture to get my hair cut ends in tragedy. And for this indignity I still feel obligated to leave a tip! I once had a regular barber whom I liked. I went to him for two years before we moved away. And, even though he prefaced my pre-Christmas haircut by sharing a 10:00 a.m. round of Ouzo shots, I trusted him.

My most recent venture into the chair of nightmares commenced with a debate about what clipper size I wanted to start with. My best hair cut (and, due to its rarity, I remember it fondly) involved me using a 2 1/2-sized clipper. Now, I’ve tried to replicate this request in other establishments and it appears that location was in some mystical netherworld where dreams can be realized because everyone else looks at me like I’ve asked them the question in Aramaic. Perhaps the key is to bring Mel Gibson with me – or simply ask Mel where he gets his hair done…

So, after settling for a 3, the next five minutes progressed with the futile search for the elusive size. Apparently, the same demon that gets my socks absconded with the 3, and I was strongly recommended to try a 2. As I watched the pale flesh tones slowly reveal themselves through their salt-and-pepper curtain, I realized that this was yet another chapter in the horror novel of hair.

Conversation was stilted as she apparently was at the same time both interested in penning my biography and avoiding actually listening to the answers I’ve given. I understand disinterest – after all, the feeling was mutual – yet at least feign interest or allow me to undergo my suffering in respectful silence.

The cut itself turned out OK and I remained optimistic that there would be a light at the end of this tunnel – until the moment the gel was broken out. Before I could utter a word – not that I’m sure I would have – I was Gel-saulted. Drenching what limited hair I had left in a mountain of gel that would have Pat Riley blushing, I was sent out into the world looking all the more like a wet cat.

And if that weren’t bad enough, the gel rapidly hardened on my head, like that chocolate coating on ice cream, leaving me with a lid that looked and felt suspiciously like Butch Goring’s mid-80’s helmet.

I survived to tell the tale, and I continue to search for that elusive Holy Grail – the good hair cut. Until then, I will bow my head in shame, or at least put on a hat.

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Graffiti Ban Targets Symptom, Not Disease

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By Jason Menard

Verily, I say to thee that London truly is a safer place today! Yes, a committee has put forth a recommendation before our esteemed council to wrest from the hands of our city’s youth the very implement they wield to pierce into our city’s soul.

A marker.

Oh, but not just any marker. A marker specifically targeted by these hooligans to deface our fair streets and mark their territory. In celebration I felt like running to where my four-year-old daughter was colouring, seizing her Crayola’s, and waving them in front of her, shouting “Verily, thine fiendish future ways have been thwarted, daughter of mine.”

Yes, we have eradicated the opportunity for these youths to purchase their weapon of choice! And, although they’re smart enough to do intricate work in public places without getting caught by the police, we can only hope that they’re not smart enough to hop in a car and drive to a neighbouring community that’s more writing implement friendly.

Honestly, does this seem a little short-sighted to anyone else? Do we honestly think that preventing under-18s from buying markers will stop the tagging and other acts of graffiti that pop up in our city? Do we honestly believe that only under-18s are the ones perpetrating this activity?

And are we so stuck in this white-bread mentality that we can’t see the beauty of the work that some graffiti artists produce?

Of course, it may all come for naught. In true Keystone Kapers fashion, the council neglected that discriminating based upon age may not be the most legally sound foundation for a by-law. But beyond that, this is a clear case of sweeping the issue under the carpet by dealing with the symptom not the disease.

As with most youth activities, including the very gang affiliation that some councilors attribute, graffiti and tagging are simply a crime of opportunity – or, more specifically, lack of opportunities. Many kids get involved in tagging for the simple fact that they’re bored. Yes peer pressure can be a factor, but in large part these are kids who have fallen through the cracks.

Listen, I’m not advocating a bleeding-heart approach where these kids are considered the victims, not the victimizers. But what I know is that an approach that’s designed to restrict access to the tools of the trade is only going to embolden these perpetrators to be more outrageous and outlandish in displaying their craft. After all, we know what happens when you tell a teenager not to do something – you’ve suddenly made the act far more appealing than ever before. Instead of reducing the number of tags on public property, a ban may in fact increase the frequency and prevalence of this type of graffiti.

The first step in the process has to be education. Start the kids young in elementary school by instilling a sense of what’s right and wrong. There are anti-graffiti colouring books and other materials that other communities have used, and we should be on the bandwagon. Secondly, we need to continue to hammer home this message throughout their schooling. As kids enter high schools, we need to show them the economic effects of tagging and – more specifically – how it affects their wallet. If we can draw the correlation between increased clean-up costs that get rolled back into increased product and service prices, not to mention taxes, maybe that will help.

We also have to have stricter punishments in place for those that are caught. A hefty fine or stint in jail may serve as an effective deterrent for some of the more thrill-seeking members of this community.

As well, these youth need to be engaged in finding the solution. Obviously the programs and services that are already in place aren’t meeting their needs, so why not involve them in the process of defining and implementing social programs that work? If we accept that graffiti can be a crime of boredom, where is the harm in engaging these youth in developing solutions that are stimulating and effective? The top-down approach, despite all its good intentions, is obviously not working.

And the final piece is that there needs to be recognition that not all graffiti is bad. By setting up graffiti walls in various parks and areas of the city, we can encourage these artists to showcase their wares in a public and accepted forum. Some graffiti art is an expression of social conscience and that’s something we should be encouraging more of in our community’s youth.

In the end, London may soon be the first city to ban the sale of these implements to minors, but that’s certainly not a distinction of which I’m going to be proud. I’d much live in a city that’s know for putting a premium on the participation of its youth in more constructive activities than for residing in one that simply banishes them to the corner.

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Capitol Punishment? Hardly

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By Jason Menard

You don’t know what it’s got until it’s gone. The old adage rings true, and it’s all the more evident when long-standing representations of London’s past are scheduled to be torn down.

However, don’t blame the imminent destruction of the Capitol Theatre downtown on progress – blame it on lack of interest from Londoners at large. Heritage buildings are great to celebrate, but they must be living ties to a vibrant past – not hollow reminders of days gone by.

I have the same issue with Heritage buildings that I do with dried flowers. Both are beautiful and vibrant when alive – but when dried they become withered and gutted shells of their former glory.

Eventually enough is enough. There’s no point in simply preserving buildings for nostalgia’s sake. And there’s certainly no doubt that there’s been ample time for someone to step up and make something of the old theatre – its “Opening Soon” marquee has been around so long, it’s become a joke to look at.

The sad fact of the matter is that interest is just not there. No one is willing to step forward and do something to preserve the building. And we have to face facts that if public will is not there, then we have to let it go.

While the building may fall, the memories will live on in those who ever went to the theatre. From nights out with friends, to movies only partly seen because of “extracurricular activities” many Londoners will cherish those memories and hold them close to their heart. Walking past such a decrepit building only devalues those remembrances by framing them on a stage that casts the memories in shadow.

There are other ways of remembering a building. I personally own a wonderful book that examines the photographic history of Montreal. What’s equally interesting as what’s remained the same is what’s changed. One can chart the progress and development of a city through its architecture.

Now, while a parking lot may not be the fitting epitaph for the Capitol theatre, perhaps it’s a harbinger of things to come. Since no one appears to be willing to make the old building a living part of the downtown’s future, at least it will no longer be a roadblock on the way to future success and prosperity.

That’s not to say that creative things can’t be done to retain those links to our past. One has to look no further than the remnants of the Talbot Block and how they were incorporated into the façade of the John Labatt Centre. Other examples are found in the recasting of a Queen St. church into the offices of a Internet consulting company or the turning of the barracks and the Banting home into living museums.

In the end, the theatre will prove to be as transitory as the films it once showed, simply due to the fact that no one was willing to step up and invest in revitalizing it. And there’s really nothing wrong with that. The one thing about the past is that you can never recapture it. Forcing it to stay against its will only leads to resentment and neglect amongst those whose future dreams are stymied by an overzealous grasp on the past.

The other issue is that there is only a limited amount of money available in the pot to be shared. We can’t expect to be everything to everyone, so we have to accept that some things will fall by the wayside. We need to identify our key buildings and invest in them, instead of throwing bad money after good, just to keep buildings that the public at large has not shown the requisite interest in maintaining.

Instead of scurrying around, popping out sound bites whenever another Heritage building is on the chopping block, those truly interested in the past need to be far more proactive in preserving these historical ties. It’s not simply about bestowing Heritage designation on buildings, it’s about having the foresight and creativity to ensure that these buildings remain a viable and participatory member of the community. Whether it’s through the creation of museums, maintaining facades for business use, or any number of other applications, simply preserving buildings isn’t enough – revitalizing them must be a priority.

When the Capitol finally does come crumbling down, it will be a fitting death for a once-stately London building. And the Capitol certainly does deserve to be remembered as something more than a down-trodden, boarded-up shell of what it once was.

2006© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved