On this day, Canada's 138th birthday, I bring you The Guide Stevos Guide to the Greatest Canadians of All Time In No Particular Order...
THRUSH HERMIT - Have you ever seen that video for "The Day We Hit The Coast"? Where they put on all that fur trading clothes and walk through the woods in late winter on a sunny day? And at the end they reach a stage by a stream and rock the fuck out? Yes, it was very Canadian. Chalk Clayton Park up as one of the best albums of all time, let alone Canadian albums.
MARC GARNEAU - Ladies and gentlemen, the first Canadian in space! Need I say more?
*FUN FACT! Canada was the third country to make it to space. Researchers like The Mars Society of Canada are calling for a Canadian led mission to Mars, which apparently is not all that impossible.
STOMPIN TOM CONNORS - In his book On the Cold Road, Dave Bidini of the Rheostatics recalls his trip to Ireland as a youngster: "[Stompin Tom's] My Stompin Grounds became my way of communicating what Canada was like without having to stumble through my own hazy ideas about home (Tom, after all, had a song naming the provinces and their capitals, a handy geography lesson in under three minutes)...Tom's voice drew me back across the ocean, and the songs about bobcats and Wilf Carter that I'd once been embarrassed to listen to anchored my identity in a culture where nationhood was everything." Sure, Tom's a real mainstream name, which in Canada generally means misplaced in CBC specials and overcelebrated by too many journalists, and he's not the first thing a street-cred obsessed indie kid would toss into the jukebox. But in all seriousness, this man is a hard-nosed rebel who doesn't take shit. He was a moderately well-known artist in the country, folk and traditional circuits through the 60s and 70s, but he shunned fame and the music industry in Canada at large, sending back all his Junos and hanging his boots to rest until the early 90's, when Dave Bidini helped resurrect his career and put him on the path to iconhood (but to me he's very much an iconoclast).
THE PEOPLE OF WINNIPEG, 1919 - Most people forget that this quiet Canadian city was the only place in North America that came anywhere close to a modern revolution? For six weeks, the people of Winnipeg took part in a prolonged general strike that put the city at the centre of global news for a whole summer. For the duration of the strike, which was supported from the get-go by the police force and fire department, the Strike Committee and those overwhelming number of people who cooperated with them maintained a syndicalist municipal government that only a few cities around the world succeeded in even attempting. The Strike did not die under its own weight. On the contrary, it was killed by a robust RCMP, the vigilantes of The Citizen's Committee of 1000, and their The Strike serves as a lesson of history that any movement of the people - and that's what it was, it did not belong solely to the unions or the activists, it found its way into the middle class and the public sector and crossed racial and ethnic lines - any movement that attempts to rid the system of unfairness and injustice will face extreme hostility from an elite group that do not wish to understand the concerns of those they commit to serving.
LOUIS RIEL AND THE RED RIVER REBELLION - The world's first touring western Canadian protest band. They sold enough copies of sheet music to go platinum back in 1885. Their tightness as group, sense of dynamics and ability to just jam on some sick shit was at least twenty years ahead of its time. They actually invented ragtime, which was stolen by Le Caravan Cajun de Jacques Brossard and brought to Louisiana, where it was immediately appropriated and popularized in their image. Their gutsy, feisty uncompromising sound had never been heard before, and due to the fact that records were still by and large uninvented back then, they will never be heard again. Louis Riel, their revered band leader and community champion, was hanged for treason after he extended the musical ethos of the Rebellion to the political sphere.
THE ORIGINAL GREENPEACE GANG - These guys and girls were the Cousteaus of envronmentalism, taking to the seas to protect us from oil spills and nuclear war. Their purpose has developed since those early days and now Greenpeace is a global pool of activists working for our future. They took on Davidian tasks but never once flinched in fear or compromised their principles. For that, they belong on the list over anyone else.
IMMIGRANTS - If it wasn't for the millions of people who populated this country over the past two centuries, we'd be a colonial vestige, a lost piece of land. The perspectives of emigrating communities from around the world have allowed us to live in a global society. Their come-uppance in this country is a testament to how hard they worked to shed the burdens of the often hostile resentment towards their presence.We can send Canadians around the world without real fear, as our concept of "far and wide" has grown beyond our borders.
PEACEKEEPERS - In a way, they're the true Canadian diplomats. From Cyprus to Bosnia to Rwanda, these men and women have been at it since 1964, not to fire bullets but to stop others from doing so. They have been underfunded, neglected and treated poorly by their own government and military heads, but wherever they were, they made progress, sometimes minute, but always significant. I a, of the opinion that every young Canadian should someday serve as a Peacekeeper or be assigned to support them at some point in their young lives.
DR. NORMAN BETHUNE - As important as Florence Knightingale and far more relevant than the characters of M*A*S*H*, this doctor made his way to China, Spain and other civil war zones to provide medical assistance and social leadership to the dispossessed. One of the world's first advocates for universal health care and illness prevention, Bethune's trademark mobile ambulance unit was a world-leading, life giving machine of people power.
THE MACKENIE PAPINEAU BATTALION - The first Canadian volounteer force to fight fascism's ugly face. 1,500 anarchists, syndicalists, unionists and communistst travelled to Spain to take on Franco's reactionary army and Hitler's vicious Luftwaffe, defending the Spanish Republic in a bitter fight that could have, but sadly didn't, stick it to the fascists and weaken their sick quest for global domination. The Mac-Paps were blacklisted when they left for Spain, given a brief clemency during the Second World War, and once again targeted with arrrests, trials and further blacklists during Cold War paranoia in the 50s. Only recently have they been given veteran status in Canada.
DRAFT DODGERS - By far our best cultural acquisition from the States. They burned their draft cards, crossed the border, and we gave them a country to believe in again. They did this under the risk of the death penalty or long jail sentences, and were condemned to losing contact with their families for a whole decade before they were given clemency...and you know what? The majority of them stayed here and gave us our favourite "cool dads", university professors and collectors of soul records.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
The party condo has been built!
I spent a bit of time in condoland today and again this evening. In the afternoon, I strolled down a street in the west of the annex and found a new project. It's aim is to make some condos and townhouses out of the Loretto Abbey schools that sit side by side. I applaud the plan for the junior high school, which will not destroy the building and be replaced with a mammoth structure of opulence. A two or three story extension will be built atop the existing building, and some design changes will be made to the window areas, but fundamentally, this seems like a sensible thing to in comparison to what's planned for the older, more Catholic looking Elementary school. Instead of taking the same idea for the junior high and brilliantly making us of the existing building, they're going to tear it down and build a series of modestly luxurious town homes. This angers me slightly, as it is the purpose of the Annex as a historical district to keep its old buildings preserved at least on the exterior. The school could easily be turned into discrete, spacious and highly liveable town homes, but instead they're going with the decision to level this beautiful and practical space.
Later on, I took the plunge into a different reality altogether, just a few blocks away in the twilight zone that is Yorkville. There I met Trevor, who somehow inherited this loft like condo on CUmberland just west of Bay. It was the first time I had ever been inside an apartment with more than one floor. I honestly thought such things are situated only in penthouses high above the city, but not on a middle floor of a relatively low-rise condo building. Equipped with two balconies, this place is a must for at least one good dinner and wine party for those of us who will never get the chance to do such a thing in Yorkville otherwise.
We took a stroll the strange recreations of forests and deserts at Cumberland Square, both agreeing that these locations resembled sound stages than they did public space. We crossed through these monuments that housed beams of green light in hollow, grated futurist columns. I felt that while it looked mighty fantastic, it's actually a regressive design because it forgoes any concern for the excessive use of electricity required to run such projects. While it should be noted that the lights used are far more efficient than the ones we screw into our lamps at home, one should consider the nature of necessity and scarcity. Why, in an era that warns of the excesses of hyper-electrification should we use our dwindling resources for show? Why not make an object shine on its own rather than manufacture the radiance with electrical power? The future, in my opinion, depends on how much we can curtail the use of electricity and make the wonders of the pre-modern world work for us again.
We moved on to the massive rock "formation" in the middle of the square, just beyond the colum fountains. We could feel the rumblings of the subway line underneath and I felt as if we were awakening a dinosaur. There, three girls who had been partying intermittently between the rock and Sassafraz (a place I laid eyes on for the first time that night and realized that it's probably too expensive for me to even set foot in) mistook our smoke for a joint and asked us to pass it over. I, at this point, did not need any more, as I'd been smoking prolifically all day, so I offered them my last joint to smoke later when they were on their way. "You deserve hugs and kisses!" said one of the girls, and boy, do I wish that were true.
"It's our rock," said the casually dressed brunette.
"I like that it's yours," I say.
"Yeah, we've been hangin here for a while now. We've been coming in and out of Sassafraz since 9 or 10 to get loaded and come sit on the rock. Monday is our night."
"How long has this tradition been going on for?" asked Trevor.
"Since tonight," she says and shrugs.
The more formally dressed blonde was lying in a pile of what looked to be paper ripped into hundreds of pieces.
"What's she lying in?" asked Trevor.
"Her shattered life," the brunette replied jokingly.
The third one, a lovely and polite but drunk girl dressed in black complained that she wasn't going to make it down the rock face on two feet. They announced that it was time to go, but not without telling us to come back next Monday at around 9 or 10.
Upon closer inspection, Trevor revealed that the pieces of paper were actually various photos and negatives of perhaps a significant other. I wonder if there will still be pieces there next Monday.
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