I [Now] Love a Kid in Uniform

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By Jason Menard

If the 17-year-old version of me knew what I was about to write, he’d probably give me a good slap upside the head, but here it goes:

I think school uniforms are a great idea.

Whew, no blows from the past yet – although I’m sure my nine-year-old son won’t be too pleased either when he reads this article. I’d like to think that my 180-degree turn has less to do with the mellowing of age, than it does with a broader sense of perspective and an understanding of what’s truly important. And I’m sure my idealist friends from the time would tend to agree with me now.

As you know, children at London’s newest elementary school, St. Catherine of Siena, will be required to wear uniforms. While past versions of me would have railed on at length about the thought of indoctrinating our youth to a mandated norm established by an authoritarian body, my present version thinks, “Hmm, I hope they’ll do that at my son’s school?”

I’d like to toss finances aside, although that’s an appealing argument for many families. Yes, it’s true that buying a few uniforms is cheaper than trying to keep up with the outrageously expensive fashions of the times, that’s not the issue that the kids care about – at least that’s not what we cared about in my youth.

What was at stake was the concept of individuality and freedom of expression. Many of you out there probably think the same way that I did, in that the buttoned-up collars and pleated slacks of a school uniform would somehow do more than choke your neck, but would also stifle your ability to make your mark and stand out from the crowd. The thought exists that by everyone dressing the same, you’re creating a society of submissive drones, cloned to mimic one another without any concept of dissention or individual thought.

First off, I now have two problems with that. To start, I remember what I wore in high school and the only statement I was making was that I had no taste! But secondly, and more importantly, is that if everyone dons a school uniform then, finally, it’s the individual characteristics that will make you stand out!

A lack of uniforms, in fact, works counterproductively to fostering creativity. It allows people to use their clothing as a crutch to display superficial differences, but does nothing to allow the true nature of us to come forth.

I find it hilarious to see these kids tearing their jeans, throwing on a retro-Sex Pistols shirt, spiking their hair, and piercing their assorted body parts in an attempt to assert their individuality. What they’re completely oblivious to is the fact that they’re simply trading one set of conventions for another and just conforming to another group’s ideals. The same can be said for any one of those subsections of youth society – from those who look like angstful middle-class rappers, skater-kid wannabes, and retro-preppies – each style of dress is nothing more than conforming to another societal norm.

That’s what’s great – and overlooked – about uniforms. They make you work to stand out from the crowd. You have to use your mind, your talent, and your creativity to assert your uniqueness, not just look for a specific brand label of clothing.

Our society is rapidly becoming more and more multi-cultural, and we’re being exposed to more influences that are broadening our frame of reference. It’s long since time to appreciate those around us for who they are and not what they wear. If everyone starts from a level playing field, then all will be able to shine – not this those who wear the right clothes or look the right way.

Despite the old adage, clothes don’t make the man. And if you’re so devoid of depth that you need a label to define yourself, then remember that you’re only in school for a few hours each day – you can always change when you get home.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

A Canadiens’ Fan in a Maple Leaf World

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By Jason Menard

It’s at this time of year that I can really relate to Kermit T. Frog when he woefully sang, “It’s not easy being green…”

You see, I bleed the blue, blanc, et rouge of the Montreal Canadiens in a Toronto Maple Leafs world. You may not have noticed us, as we tend to gather in small groups, in living rooms with the blinds drawn, to commiserate over the fact that fate has dealt us a geographic blow.

But once in a while you will catch the more intrepid members of our community at your local pub, gathered around what invariably ends up being the smallest TV in the joint, tuned to SRC, watching our beloved Habs take flight. While around us – the flickering glow of the numerous big screens tuned to Hockey Night in Toronto – er, I mean, Canada, illuminate the faces of Maple Leaf fans who sit, or stand, in reverence of the boys in Blue and White.

But look closer at those Canadiens fans and you’ll notice the slight differences between them and their Maple Leaf brethren. They display an air of serenity and poise, but are very careful not to show it.

Some may say that it comes from the hypnotic effect caused by watching Jacques Demers’ inhuman number of chins wiggling during intermission. And while it’s true that we don’t have the pomp and bluster of Don Cherry to wake us from our reverie, the disposition of a Montreal Canadiens fan comes from one thing, and one thing only – success.

Each year Toronto Maple Leafs fans in the area whip them up into a frenzy of anticipation believing that this, finally, will be the year! With every goal for and goal against their mood swings faster than Benny Goodman on amphetamines. And each year they plunge from the euphoric highs of a series win to the inevitable despair that comes with their ouster from the Stanley Cup playoffs.

And those Montreal Canadiens fans? We try to suffer our defeats with dignity. But woe is the Habs fan whose allegiances are exposed to this Maple Leaf-dominated world. Like vultures circling a dying carcass, Leaf fans have in recent years feasted on the Canadiens misfortune.

What is that old saying? Oh, yeah, misery loves company. Taking their cues from their spiritual leader, Grapes, Leaf fans have delighted in bombarding their Canadiens-loving cohorts with bravado. Feeling that ridicule combined with volume can fill the void caused by their own lack of post-season glory.

“Theodore couldn’t carry Belfour’s jock strap! Our Swedish captain is totally better than your Finnish captain! Domi would have kicked Ribeiro’s butt if he tried that diving trick on the Leafs!”

And yet that wry smile never leaves the lips of the Canadiens’ fan. Like an internal mantra, the Habs fan takes solace with thoughts of the great Russ Courtnall for John Kordic trade, the Harold Ballard years, the Maple Laffs moniker…

But most of all, the Habs fan finds comfort in the Cups. We draw our strength from generations of success. While Leafs fans hold fast to the thought that “if the refs only called a penalty on Wayne Gretzky…” and what might have been, Canadiens fans can take comfort in countless memories of sipping from Lord Stanley’s mug.

Sure the recent years have been lean, which is what makes this year’s playoffs all the more exciting. So go ahead and fly your flags from your car, flood the street in celebration of a first-round win, shout from the top of your lungs that this is THE year! We Habs fans will smile in bemusement at your desperate need for success and validation.

So as we enter the second round, and as the Maple Leaf bandwagon groans under the weight of ever-more people jumping on as it lumbers along to another early tee time, we Canadiens fans will simply enjoy watching you take that ride. Early-round success? We’ve been there and done that. Wake us when the parade’s being planned.

And if all else fails, we can always fall back on the line: “At least we’ve won our Cups on colour TV…”

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Be Mine, But For One Day Only?

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By Jason Menard

So legend has it that Valentine, the patron saint of love, was put to death following an imprisonment – seems like the appropriate holiday for us married types, right? Rimshot! I’ll be here all week, please tip your server on the way out.

But, in all seriousness, what does this holiday really mean? What brought this to the fore was a conversation I had with my wife a couple of weeks ago. When I asked her if she had anything in particular she wanted to do to celebrate, she replied, ‘Whatever, I don’t really care. It’s just a fake holiday perpetuated by Hallmark to make money.’

Obviously I was taken aback! Was this not the echoing of similar sentiments that I’ve been expressing for years? Hearing it come back to me in this way, though, gave me pause to wonder if I’ve had the whole thing wrong all this time and I haven’t been focussing on the right thing.

First off, I don’t want you to think I’m a horrible husband because of my issues with Valentine’s Day. I have always taken my wife out on Valentine’s Day and we’ve had many wonderful times together. But I, like many of you out there reading this, have railed endlessly against the crass commercialization of Valentine’s Day.

What bothers me is that Valentine’s Day too often is looked at as a panacea to absolve us of our romantic sins! We’re bombarded with this message: Show her that you love her (on this day!) by buying her flowers, jewellery, candy… It’s too much pressure for just one day. The underlying message is that you’ve been a selfish boor all year, make up for now with a gift! So think about that guys, what does that say about you if you don’t do something special for Valentine’s Day? The pressure!

My issue with this thought – and why I’ve looked at Valentine’s Day with a mix of dread and contempt – is that I don’t believe that there’s only one day that I should make my wife feel special – every day should be like that! Now, I’m not the model husband by any stretch of the imagination, but I try to do my best – the whole year! My efforts have been met with varying degrees of success, but I honestly believe I’m doing my best to show my wife how much I truly care for her. But still, I know the overwhelming guilt I would feel if I didn’t do anything on Valentine’s Day – and that’s not right.

And now we’re starting even younger. The pressure to conform and perform is starting in our elementary schools – albeit only with the best intentions in mind. Although we all know about where the path of good intentions leads.

In my son’s fourth-grade class they’ve been told to either bring enough Valentine’s for everyone or bring none at all. Talk about preparing them for disappointment down the road.

When I was younger it was almost a survival of the fittest. You chose to whom you gave Valentine’s and they actually meant something. Some years you got more, some years you got less, but at least they were genuine. The idea now is that everyone feels included, but what it actually does is give false hope to a number of kids.

Valentine’s cards were a microcosm of society as a whole. In fact, they were a great training ground to help deal with the harsh realities of life. The fact is that the majority of people in the world don’t care about you and some outright dislike you. But if you’re lucky enough to find someone who truly cares about you and wants to be your Valentine, then you’ve received the greatest gift of all. That’s a Valentine to cherish every day of your life – not just on February 14 th.

Like many things in life, my thoughts on Valentine’s Day are not so black and white any more – they’re more a shade of grey (or red as the case may be). It’s not the day itself that I have an issue with – it’s how we focus on this day, and this day alone, to show how much we care. So while I’ll go along with the crowd on Saturday night, I’ll know in my heart that this is just one day of many in the years to come where I should show my wife how special she is to me!

Valentine’s Day should be no more special than any other day. But instead of devaluing the meaning of February 14 th, we should be raising the bar on every other day of the year. I know it’s the least I can do for my one true Valentine.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

A Sour Cherry?

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By Jason Menard

Does Don Cherry really have to be our standard-bearer for free speech in this country? And what does it say about us as a country when we fail to be outraged at borderline-racist comments, but a seven-second delay sends us into a tizzy?

As a result of his latest verbal assault against Europeans and French-Canadians, Cherry’s Coaches Corner segment is now subject to a seven-second delay, wherein some unfortunate soul has his or her finger on the trigger, waiting for the volatile Cherry to say something inappropriate. I’d hate to be the one doing that job.

So now Cherry, instead of being exposed as the ignorant buffoon that he is, now is at the centre of a cause célébre – pardon my French – and what he says is now obscured by the discussion of his right to say it.

Let’s put things into perspective here. Cherry has become nothing more than a shameful self-parody. Instead of using his high-profile, national forum to effect meaningful change to a game we all know and love, he has to continually one-up himself on a weekly basis. He absolutely has to be outrageous and controversial, but not for the sake of making a point, but rather to cover up his total lack of substance.

The plain fact of the matter is that very few Canadians take Cherry seriously. Some will watch and laugh at his bombastic antics, so may agree with certain aspects of his weekly diatribes, but few would consider him an authoritative voice on the game.

Much like Zsa Zsa Gabor and Elizabeth Taylor, he’s no longer famous for his contributions to society, but rather he’s famous for being famous. Honestly, how many people – especially the newer viewers to Hockey Night in Canada – actually recall his coaching career when compiling a list of his attributes? Outrageous jackets, yes. Starched collars, sure. Dog named Blue, OK. A stint behind the benches of the Bruins and Rockies? Oh yeah, I forgot about that.

The scary thing is that the majority of Canadians have become desensitized to his xenophobia. We laugh it off and say, “Oh, that’s just Don being Don.” And that’s easy to say when you’re on the English-Canadian side of the fence. But his shtick doesn’t carry the same weight elsewhere. Having lived in Quebec for a number of years, I have seen first-hand that Cherry’s anti-French and anti-European diatribes elicit anything from minor annoyance to – and this is worse – a confirmation that these are obviously the opinions of a majority of English Canadians because they don’t bat an eye when he says these things.

Just think of the emotions that get stirred up when someone from the U.S. slights our beloved nation. We become outraged and lament the opinions of these ignorant Americans – but by our support of Cherry, are we any worse?

But despite all of this, I don’t believe Cherry should be censored. In fact, I do believe we need people like this in our world so that we can point at them and mock them mercilessly. We can sift the sewage out of their bombast, hold it up for examination, and expose it for the ignorant drivel that it is. It’s more dangerous to allow these sentiments to fester in private, where they can grow to a disproportionate size. This is the beauty of free speech – we can all share our ideas and have them subjected to public scrutiny and analysis to highlight both the flaws and strengths of our ideas.

However, I don’t think our nation’s publicly funded broadcast network should necessarily be providing a five-minute stage dedicated to an individual who goes out of his way to alienate an important segment of our Canadian cultural mosaic. But, unlike Cherry, I refuse to pass judgement on the rights of others to watch what they choose. And I don’t think mass censorship is ever the right solution.

In any case, I have the greatest time-delay device at my disposal – my remote control. I watch hockey for the love of the game, not to see the pathetic attempt of an increasingly irrelevant talking head struggle to stay in the public consciousness.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

More Dynasty Talk than at a Carrington Reunion

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By Jason Menard

The Super Bowl is over, the New England Patriots are victorious, and with the cacophony of voices are bandying the word dynasty about in a way not seen since John Forsythe, Linda Evans, and Joan Collins shared the small screen.

Somewhere, the ghosts of the truly great teams are sitting back and laughing at us. What does it say about a culture when winning two out of three is considered dominant?

Put it this way, the Ming Dynasty didn’t just last for a few years, with a few changes of political leadership and social direction thrown in for good measure. A dynasty, by its very nature, combines ultimate dominance with longevity.

To return this to a sports level, the Montreal Canadiens of the 50s and 70s, with multiple Stanley Cup runs, were a dynasty. The New York Yankees of the 30s and 50s, they were dynasties too! The Patriots? Didn’t they miss the playoffs last year? Hardly the stuff of legends. Worst of all, we now come armed with ready-made excuses to qualify our hyperbolic statements. How many times have you heard the term “modern-day dynasty” lately?

Why do we feel compelled to anoint moderately successful teams with the moniker dynasty? Perhaps it’s a lack of self-confidence. Our incessant need for cultural self-validation has permeated almost every aspect of our lives and threatens to swallow us whole.

We live in a time where we feel the need to justify the actions of the here and now, all the while stumbling over each other in the desperate attempt to find the “next” big thing. It’s like a sixth-grader proclaiming that Justin Timberlake is the greatest artist ever, and that John Lennon guy is just so yesterday. It’s something we’ve all done, but fortunately we all grow up and gain perspective.

Why is it that we can’t appreciate the accomplishments of the past for what they are? Instead of trying to overwhelm historical dominance with over-hyped mediocrity, why can’t we instead raise the bar and hold ourselves to a higher ideal?

Turn on the TV and what do you get? Multiple versions of the same concept, from channel to channel. And don’t get so smug thinking that this is a dismissal of reality shows. In fact, reality shows are at least in touch with today’s cultural environment and are self-aware enough to know their place.

No sooner had the last American Idol wrapped did advertisements for the next round begin to crop up on our screens. Ruben, Clay? They’re over and done, who’s next? However, you watch the more critically acclaimed shows and they’re the worst sinners of all. How many versions of the same thing are there? We’re up to, what, 10 Law & Orders and 8 CSIs? How many sitcoms about dysfunctional family situations are there out there? Can you really tell the difference?

Our modern society is rapidly becoming the equivalent of a cultural garage sale. Shows casting a sly, sarcastic eye at the shows and personalities of the 80s and 90s are phenomenally popular. Movie adaptations of 70s TV shows abound – S.W.A.T., Charlie’s Angels, Starsky & Hutch (do we really need to relive that?). In 10 years, what are we going to look back on? Retrospectives of retrospectives?

Our cultural frame of reference is postcard sized. And that’s why we’re so quick to proclaim our current crop of cultural icons as the greatest. The problem is that the situation will not get better until we start looking at the bigger picture.

As long as we’re proclaiming every half-decent accomplishment as the Second Coming, then there’s no impetus to strive to new levels. However, when we start holding our cultural icons to a higher standard, then we will truly be able to hold our collective heads up high. There will no longer be a need to diminish the past, but rather we will be able to proudly stand side by side with them as equals.

The more we toss around the word dynasty, the cheaper it becomes. Let’s save the word for those that truly deserve it.

2005 © Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved