Once Upon a Time in America

B.C., before Covid, before 9/11, There was an "American Dream"narrative many believed. That dream followed Americans from childhood all the way through adulthood then well into the "Golden Years." We lived on a consistent message that these United States of America held a certain promise that was guaranteed by the words written into the U.S. Constitution before we were born. Before now, we took that promise for granted and literally, assuming it would stand the test of time for all time, or at the very least, for our own lifetime!

In 2016, on a frigid, snowy Sunday morning in an historic, New England church where many sermons and hymns had been heard before, a retired minister stood up unapologetically to say that although it had not been his practice to speak politically from the pulpit, this day he knew he had to. He was about to send up a warning flare like the night the Titanic did so. In vain.

In the 1960's, his mother had been an activist. She had spoken up and worked against those who tried to oppress all others who belonged to the "protected" classes* under the Constitution. She had taught her son to speak up and that brought him to where he was standing on this day before a small congregation in one of the poorest, most depressed cities in the State of Massachusetts. He told us that when his mother passed away, he discovered a full dossier of her activism assembled by the FBI. He, too, as a young man had been documented for his affiliations with his mother! That didn't stop either one of them from speaking up, out, and outloud about the injustices many Americans suffered on a daily basis.

Their words and actions, along with many others, were instrumental in making it possible for everyone to vote, regardles; making it possible for women to receive safe, legal reproductive health care in their own community; making it possible to find asylum from brutal dictators elsewhere; making it possible to become an educated citizen through local schools; making it possible to breathe clean air and drink safe water; making it possible to attend synagogue or mosque or church without fear. This was the short list of possibilities that the minister juxtaposed against the long list of Presidential candidates that Spring in 2016. Then, this retired minister living out his Golden Years, spoke like a prophet that morning:

"We thought we had addressed and resolved many of the wrongs. We were the ones who were wrong! All the hatred, all the prejudice, all the evil, had just gone into a Pandora's Box. Now, in 2016, someone has the key and is about to open it in the next four years."

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By 2024, those prophetic words were written into our American story. We American citizens were faced with this truth that it soon might be too late to speak freely, to write freely, to read freely, and to vote freely, which is becoming as precarious as in dictatorships that so many flee against all odds.

In 2025 , NO KINGS! became a rallying cry when an estimated 7 million people across the U.S. decided it was time to do something. Political scientist tell us that a critical mass is required to stop a regime from carrying on. We must reach 11 million people to successfully stop the government bent on stopping us.

Ten years after that minister's warning the truth has come to bear down on us in ways we could never have imagined.

In 2026: The future is now! Our collective hands and voices are needed to say loudly and clearly that we do not want to live in a country without hope for a better life for everyone---A country without possibilities. We want to live in a country where once upon a time the promise of an American Dream might still come true.

In the end, Pandora did open that box unleashing all that was evil on an innocent world. But, the preacher told us not to forget that inside the box, there was also Hope!

Hope is the key that opens and protects what we hold dear and dare to dream.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxb2F0l5INI

*PROTECTED CLASSES:  race, color, religion, sex (including pregnancy, sexual orientation, or gender identity), national origin, age (40 or older), disability and genetic information (including family medical history). www.eeoc.gov

From Acid Rain to Yellow Warning!

I was about my granddaughter's wonderful age of 26 when I first crossed the border into Canada from the U.S. on a roadtrip to Nova Scotia. "Novy", the young man and I called it as he drove an iconic green and white VW bus around the pristine, bucolic island. I can still hear that distinct put-put engine pushing up inclines-- small inclines.

Shout out to Cliffy! Wherever you are . . .

Something else left its indelible impression on me. The border patrol handed out octagon-shaped red pamphlets with the black bold letters: Acid Rain. Two words that I had never put together before then.

Today the Canadian Government gives this definition:

Acid rain occurs when acid-containing precipitation falls onto the earth’s surface. Precipitation comes in the form of rain, snow, sleet, or hail. Precipitation collects acidic particles and gases and becomes acidic. These particles will have a pH level below 5.6.

Back in the VW camper, I read the pamphet and the warning and blame it assigned: pollution from the United States coal mines was making its way in the air across the Maritimes, Nova Scotia, included. My heart sank, stirring my budding activist self. I understood something should be done. It stayed with me long after the young romance faded.

Some years later when my daughter was born in 1991, the two border countries came to an agreement:The Canada-United States Air Quality Agreement signed by Canada and the United States in 1991 to address transboundary air pollution leading to acid rain. Both countries agreed to reduce emissions of sulphur dioxide (SO₂) and nitrogen oxides (NO_x), the primary precursors to acid rain, and to work together on acid rain-related scientific and technical cooperation.

The agreement has held for the past 35 years: While important results have been achieved under the Agreement, the covered pollutants (sulphur dioxide, nitrogen oxides, and volatile organic compounds) remain a concern and continue to have significant impacts on human health and the environment in both countries.The Agreement provides a proven and successful way for addressing transboundary air pollution that affects tens of millions of people. Canada and the United States continue to cooperate to address ongoing, emerging and future air quality issues.

That brings us to today as VW reintroduces its camper the Canadian environmentalists issue color-coded weather warnings on a daily basis. Most days, a "yellow warning" is posted with rising temperatures. Today will be a high of 87 fahrenheit in the "Great White North"!

Hazardous weather may cause damage, disruption, or health impacts

• Impacts are moderate, localized and/or short-term

• Yellow alerts are the most common

Visual symbolic icons stick in the mind reminding us that time and the world are one.

N'est-ce pas?

https://www.canada.ca/en/environment-climate-change/services/air-pollution/issues/transboundary/canada-united-states-air-quality-agreement-overview.html

A Tale of Two Countries

This week marks the founding of two countries that share the longest border between any two countries in the world. Crossing that border two weeks ago was simple. With no line to wait in, I drove right up to the open window where the young Canadian border patrol officer smiled a friendly “Bonjour”. I was wearing my "Canada is not for sale" red t-shirt I bought last summer. As expected, there was a passport check followed by a few questions meant to trip up those harboring malintent.

“You’re from Florida? Do you have any guns? Knives? Pepper spray”? Non, non et non! Then I said: "I am originally from Massachusetts", as if to exonerate myself from a Red State’s reputation. “So, less inclined toward weapons”? She smiled. Oui! Then I drove over the border between my native New England and my grandparents' native Québec. Just like that.

It wasn’t so easy when my grandparents emigrated from their homeland to begin a new life in a foreign country. My aunts and uncles liked to talk about Mémère's and Pépère’s decision to leave their village. I always heard them say: “Papa wanted to have a farm”. I never thought to ask why he did not stay on the agriculturally rich land of Québec. I had imagined the winter was too difficult to farm with any success. Lo and behold, the answer lies in the history of this place where I have come to touch my roots. 

In the 1600’s, then New France, was beholden to the King of France. Few settlers had any means other than farming which was controlled from afar in a feudal system. The land was owned by landlords who leased it to the “habitants”, like my grandfather. There were strings attached like annual fees and limited rights over productive activity. There was no way for the farmers to get ahead. South of the border was an entirely different story at the turn of the twentieth century.

In the place where I was born, the Industrial Revolution was booming. The so-called “mill barons” went North to recruit struggling French-Canadian farmers and their families to leave their homeland with the promise of something better. The story takes off from there when millions of French Canadians with many young children settled in what has become Little Canada, in Lowell, Massachusetts. 

Those were hardscrabble times for these immigrants, my ancestors, who like so many other immigrants hope for opportunity and prosperity, and some small slice of the American Dream pie. The story unraveled over a century with me caught somewhere between two worlds as a Franco-American.

This week, here in Québec City, there will be celebrations of Canada Day, July 1, the national holiday to mark the anniversary of the Constitution of 1867 when the original three colonies united into a single self-governing country within the British Empire then in 1982 gained full legislative independence from the UK. On July 3, Quebec City will celebrate its founding in 1608 with its unique culture and unmistakably proud heritage of the Quebecois and French-Canadian people from whom I descend.

The following day, July 4, the United States will celebrate its 250th anniversary of its Declaration of Independence written by freedom-seekers whose forefathers and mothers once crossed an ocean with the same hopes my grandparents had when they crossed a border for a new life. 

When the two flags are raised during these holidays, it must be with hand over heart-- not for what is--with all the flaws and shortcomings in plain sight-- but for the hope that inspires people everywhere to strive for something better. God bless America! Vive le Canada!

Happy 1st, 3rd and 4th of July to all of us!