By Maryanna Gabriel
Suddenly I feel like a name dropper. Memories have come sweeping back. My mother met Pierre Trudeau at a party and spoke with him for a prolonged time. After that, his photo was pasted over the kitchen sink presumably to help with dish drudgery. It was there for a month or so. Perhaps it was for this reason that my father developed an intense dislike of this man who now has the appellation "the father of Canadian politics" it is to be assumed because he steered us through separatism and inaugurated the Canadian Constitution. It would seem he has fathered a dynasty.
|... ahhh, fresh air|
I had no idea I was feeling so oppressed by a government that minimally participated in climate change, refused to assist Syrian refugees, initiated retirement at 67, and employed bombing overseas. We never used to stand for these things as Canadians. Last night I saw how a nest of vipers have been breeding in the Val D'or RCMP where First Nations women have been repeatedly raped and dumped for a period of twenty years. It makes me angry. I love that the new Prime Minister wants to put a stop to the "trail of tears", hundreds of missing and murdered indigenous women in a country that has not seemed to care. It is enough to make people speak out, isn't it?
Unlike my mother before me, while I probably will not be bumping into Trudeau at any parties I suddenly feel like I can square my shoulders as I take in the fresh air.