“Now in the beginning, God made the heavens and the earth. On the first day he made cheeseburgers. On the second day he made air conditioning. On the third day he made blue jeans. On the fourth day, he made ROCK AND ROLL. And then he rested on the seventh day, and took a ride with his baby in his Cadillac” – Bruce Springsteen

At least, according to the Boss, who was somewhere between a bicep curl and a bench press, that’s how it all started. Some may call the validity of his claims into question (though the priority of cheeseburgers is rarely disputed), but they are no more credible or absurd than the next person’s. We all have beliefs, and the stories to justify them. As Thomas King acknowledges, stories of our world’s creation come in all different shapes and sizes. Among all the discrepancies between stories and personal accounts, some things persist. Most notably the existence of good and evil, a right and a wrong, a black and a white. Not only do these things exist, they exist for a reason, as a lesson, a constant reminder of why or why not. They remind us what to thank for the good, and loathe for the bad.

So here’s my story about Evil

Evil was 17 and gorgeous. The talk of the small town she lived in. She was in a league of her own. She was all the boys talked about, dreamed about. And there she was: Bleach blonde hair, acid wash jeans, black leather jacket, and a Marlborough Red hanging from her lip, standing with her back against the record machine as Van Halen’s “Jump” pumped through the local diner speakers. The local boys were in a trance, eyes locked on her, until she noticed them, at which point they all awkwardly diverted their stare to the milkshakes in front of them. Except for Jimmy, who fell victim to the day dream Evil put so many boys in. After 5 more seconds and several of Jimmy’s friends’ elbows being nudged into his kidneys to no avail, Evil addressed the situation, suggesting Jimmy take a picture. “It might last longer” she said. Suddenly Jimmy awakened from his fantasy, and was left scrambling for a recovery. “Uhhhh” Jimmy says “There was a clock over your head, I was trying to see what time it w–“. There was no clock, and Evil didn’t have time for the next five excuses that were about to come out of Jimmy’s mouth. Evil pivoted on her four inch heel and headed for the door, a trail of blonde hair followed. Just like that she was gone.

Rumour had it Evil liked the bad boy types. Maybe that was the key to her heart the diner boys thought. So they rolled up the cuffs of their jeans, slicked back their hair, cut off their sleeves, and kept a steady rotation of toothpicks and cigarettes in their mouths. Over the following weeks, the obsession with Evil had become addicting for the boys, and it was not long before newfound teenage testosterone turned the pursuit of Evil into an all out competition, each pushing the envelope.

Jimmy  lit up a cigarette, a newly adopted hobby that his teenage lungs evidently disagreed with, judging by the coughing fit that followed each inhale. “I remember my first smoke” one of his buddies quipped, all part of the endless exchange of jabs and chirps among the boys in the constant struggle for group supremacy. Jimmy chased the whole scene down with a beer one of the boys had stolen from home and diverted his attention to the ’82 Ford Mustang convertible idling in the gas station parking lot across the street. The owner had disappeared inside a couple of minutes prior. Jimmy was tired of playing catch-up to whatever the groups new material attempt at bad was. He figured it was time he set the bar. He took one quick look around, the owner was nowhere in sight. Jimmy slipped out of the groups circle and walked over to the car. He opened the door and slipped in the driver seat as his friends voices faded in the distance. Suddenly, they were louder. “What the hell ya doing Jimmy!?” “Alright jokes over Jimmy get outta’ there before we get in trouble”. The car still running, Jimmy pumped the clutch, threw it in first and headed for the highway. He took one last glance at the group as a mesh of sudden excitement, disbelief, and horror all battled for dominance on each of their faces. Jimmy basked in the moment, which was suddenly interrupted by a loud New York accent, “HEY I’M WALKIN’ HERE!”. BRAKES! Jimmy realized, as he stopped several inches shy of the man crossing the street. Startled, Jimmy waited the longest three seconds of his life for the man to cross the street, and then he was off.

One lap around the block he figured. Jimmy pulled a Guns N’ Roses tape out of his portable cassette player and popped it in the stereo. The wind blowing through his mullet, Jimmy felt a little more relaxed. Maybe two blocks, Jimmy thought. And then three, then four, and then seven, where in the distance he saw Evil, on the sidewalk, walking towards him. Jimmy’s heart pumped faster and faster, as he anticipated the moment that was about to ensue. The perfect storm, the crossroads, this is what it had all been about. Jimmy had been so lost in the moment, he failed to notice the car racing up behind him, the red and blue lights flashing, the siren wailing. Until finally he did. The horrible realization, the regret, hit him like a gunshot to the stomach. How could I have thought I would get away with this? How could I have not seen this coming? Jimmy pulled over and came to a stop as Evil walked by with a curious stare. The baddest thing of all was happening to Jimmy, and right in front of Evil, the ice queen herself. But Jimmy couldn’t savour the moment. As Evil walked past the car Jimmy diverted his attention to the officer approaching it. “Does this vehicle belong to you son?” said the officer. Jimmy unable to speak, as if a bowling ball was lodged in his throat, shook his head. “Well son, you’re in a lot of trouble”. Jimmy wished he could rewind his life back ten minutes to the gas station, slap himself in the face, knock the whole idea out of his head in the first place. But he couldn’t, for once a story is told, it cannot be called back.

Observation

I found this assignment particularly hard, and the absurd story presented above was really a reflection of my frustration writing it and eventually just running with a crazy idea. To my surprise, my mother, whom I told the story too, really enjoyed it, though it didn’t take her long to poke holes at various parts of it.

Works Cited

Burr, Bill (Producer) & Mohr, Jay (Guest). (2014, January 16). Monday Morning Podcast [Audio podcast].
Retrieved from http://itunes.apple.com

King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Peterbough: Anansi Press. 2003. Print.

Question 4: Home

Home can be a problematic place to determine, because home only exists in the past. The home we remember, think of, long for, is simply a memory; it is a figment of our imagination, not a reality. The emotions that bring about our fondness for home are only stirred up in its absence. We relish the home we no longer have. Moreover, our surroundings and way of life change from day to day and place to place. Home takes on new meanings, and the things we value in a home change accordingly. Thus there is never a steady definition of home, but rather it embodies a dynamic and fluid existence.

“There’s no place like home!”

As I alluded to in my previous blog post, a lot can change in a time zone, and given the five and half we are home to in Canada, great diversity is manifested within our borders. Thus there is no ubiquitous definition of home throughout Canada. As places change, so do the values that home represents to the people of these places. Moreover, given the cultural diversity we are accustomed to, social norms place an emphasis on accepting a wide diversity of what home symbolizes amongst people of different cultures. While we are all accustomed to ways of life that are considered uniquely Canadian, even these are subject to outside cultural influences that further complicate our definition of home, and lead us to question to what extent “uniquely” satisfies the term “Canadian”.

This bears sharp contrast to Canada as it was several hundred years ago, a place not symbolized by wide acceptance of differing values, but rather outright ignorance of them. This is what Chamberlin alludes to, and that put differently, he suggests much of the conflict that has existed has been characterized by the dismissal of different beliefs, done through condescension and degradation (78). To the European settlers, the ways of life of the Indigenous peoples struck them as barbaric and animal-like, of a lesser pedigree to their own advanced state. However, as Chamberlin notes, the Native people thought of these European strangers in a very similar way (11). They saw them as strange and bizarre, and were sure their own way of life was far more rational and advanced. In such cases, Chamberlin suggests what is considered strange or familiar is thus culturally determined, and it often results in conflict, as absurdity (imagination) clashes with the rationality (reality) (140).

Chamberlin’s illustration into the differing perspectives of Canadian settlement provides an alternate view to what most born and raised Canadians are accustomed to. For the indigenous peoples, their definition of home was subject to drastic change the day Europeans arrived. What constituted home to the Native peoples would become increasingly, if not entirely determined by the Europeans. As European settlement in Canada progressed and increased in size, so too did the rationality of the European story and perspective, while drowning out the voice and story of their Indigenous counterparts. It has become commonplace in our understanding of Canada’s history as a nation: European settlement was a progressive step towards the founding of “our” nation. However, as Chamberlin argues, neither story is true, neither perspective more rational than the other (230). When we fail to acknowledge this, perspectives are ignored while undue emphasis is placed on others, further manifesting the issue and intensifying the distortion of stories.

Works Cited

Chamberlin, J. Edward. If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?: Finding Common Ground. Toronto: A.A. Knopf Canada, 2003. Print.

“The Wizard of Oz (1939).” The Wizard of Oz. N.p., n.d. Web. 17 Jan. 2014.

“Ice meets metal, ‘can’t you drive me down to the big league?” – Tom Cochrane

Having spent the first four years of my childhood in the United States, albeit in Alaska, I came to Canada an outsider. Yet as I would find over the course of my childhood, and even more so upon moving to Vancouver at the age of 18, a diverse group of outsiders are largely what makeup this country, let alone founded it a little less than one hundred and fifty years ago.

Though I sound like a broken record, Canada is defined by its diversity and differences. What else could be expected of a country of its size? The trips back and forth between Vancouver and Calgary over the course of my four and a half years at UBC were a constant reminder of this, and even more so upon returning to Calgary for good just several weeks ago. Whether it is the cultural makeup of the city, the industries that empower it, the way people talk and dress, or the weather (I’ll give Vancouver the upper hand on this one), a lot can change in a time zone. Now mind you we have five and a half time zones throughout Canada, so imagine the scope of difference we deal with. We even have a nation, within a nation, according to our Prime Minister.

Despite our differences, it is our vehicles of expression that unite us as a country. If you grew up in Canada, you at one point or another likely laced up the skates, and stepped on to a frozen surface of some kind. And if you grew up anywhere east of Vancouver, this likely occurred outdoors. There’s a good chance a stick and round piece of rubber were involved as well. Hockey is just one of many vehicles of expression that can be found just about anywhere in Canada. Whether it be sport, music, or finishing a sentence with “eh”, these cultural symbols persist despite our differences and unite us as a whole.

ENGL 470 examines our literary roots as a nation. As I have previously identified, it is our differences that often define us, and the literature of this class will help us explore the foundation of this symbolic trait, such as the differences between European and Indigenous peoples in the early days of Canadian history, as well as the discrepancy in power amongst the voices of various groups throughout the country. The literature will helps us identify the lens through which we see Canada at the present day, and what in our history as a nation has enabled this perception.

Works Cited

Emmer. “What Is It About Pond Hockey?” Gongshow Hockey RSS. Gongshow Hockey, 11 Dec. 2013. Web. 09 Jan. 2014.

“Quebecers Form a Nation within Canada: PM.” CBCnews. CBC/Radio Canada, 22 Nov. 2006. Web. 09 Jan. 2014.

“TOM COCHRANE & RED RIDER – Big League.” YouTube. YouTube, 15 Nov. 2006. Web. 09 Jan. 2014.