Canucks Vote Early and Vote Often
An election is coming. Universal peace is declared, and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry. ~George Eliot, Felix Holt
My cup is overflowing. It is the time of year when I normally jump on our Vancouver Canuck bandwagon, as they head into the playoffs with flying colours; I paint my face blue and acquaint myself with the names of the players on their first line. But this year there is something else to brush up on: our federal election.
How I will slot in time to part my hair I’m not sure.
I normally avoid politics like the plague. It is as interesting to me as Jerry Springer, which is to say, it’s not at all interesting. I just can’t get excited about grown ups arguing over policy. It’s not like they are speaking openly and honestly about anything, they are speaking in order to win supporters. They are saying whatever will get them in power.
The last time I heard a politician compliment an opponent, or say something along the lines of “that is a great idea, I think Canadians will really benefit from your suggestion,” was, let me see, never.
They argue for the sake of arguing. It all seems futile. Like a game I used to play with my friend when we would each scream, and then vote about who screamed the loudest. Everytime, we voted for ourselves, no matter how lung curdling and impressive the result.
On our trip home last week from California, I spied a red election sign, soon accompanied by blue and orange ones. An election had been called in our absence, which not surprisingly the USA Today – delivered each morning – had not picked up, choosing instead to report about how beautiful people were happier than those less beautiful, and how a movement was afoot to ban children to their own separate section on airplanes, among other gems. It was like reading People magazine everyday, fine for a vacation, but far from reality.
I sat up straighter in my seat. The vacation was over, it was time to roll up my sleeves and get to work.
Growing up, my father was a big proponent of exercising your democratic right to vote. It went something like, if you live in this house, you had better vote in every election you are privileged to live through. He was outspoken on this topic. Although his roots are Irish, his vehemency makes me wonder if also had some ties to Socrates.
And so as I spied those red, blue, and orange signs, I realized it was time to force myself to pay attention to what differentiated the parties at war. Sift through the rhetoric to determine what would match my best Canada. I know it won’t be pretty or fun and will certainly be frustrating, but it’s my small contribution to society.
And so, as I actually read instead of skip over the growing political section of the newspaper, I ask you this: How about those Canucks?