What does the colour orange mean to you?

There's that cheesy knock-knock joke that ends with "Orange you glad I didn't say 'banana' again?" There were the ill-fated and ill-advised Orange routes on OC Transpo, whose lives were nasty, brutish and (mercifully) short. There was some furniture I had in the 1970s, only one piece of which I still have - an orange, vinyl-covered hassock in which, when you open the lid, you can store more vinyl, in the form of LPs. I'm not sure if these very useful pieces of furniture are still sold (except possibly in antique shops), even though vinyl is definitely enjoying a revival.

You may think of oranges or of any number of orange-flavoured beverages: orange juice, Orangina, Grand Marnier liqueur, Honee Orange (bottled by Pure Spring, which once had a factory in the Ottawa area), Honey Dew coffee shops' eponymous orange beverage, or Orange Crush. I was never a great fan of Orange Crush, but who could forget all those cans of Orange Crush at memorial sites for Jack Layton? Orange, of course, is the colour generally associated with the NDP.

But what I mainly want to talk about now is Orange Shirt Day. Federal public servants now have a day off for Truth and Reconciliation Day, which since 2021 is marked on September 30. As a retiree, I'm off every day (at least in terms of paid employment) but I opted upon retirement to join the Retired Members Guild of PIPSC.

On Friday, I decided to gather with other PIPSC members and attend the ceremonies on Parliament Hill. The plan was to meet at 10:30 AM at Bank and Wellington. Registrants would then get crossed off the list and the first 60 would receive orange "Every Child Matters" hoodies with the PIPSC logo on the sleeve (I hope they had a union label inside!) We would then head for the Hill to join the... (Party? Ceremony?) to begin around noon. According to the e-mail I got when I registered, the National Capital Region executive (of PIPSC) would provide lunch after the ceremony "at a location to be determined".

I got there in good time, wearing my orange "Every Child Matters" T-shirt (which I had ordered online last year) over a turtleneck. I wasn't among the first 60 registrants so no orange hoodie, but I did get my name checked off the list. And then? Well, I saw a couple of people I knew or vaguely recognized from previous events. But the event wasn't as structured as I had expected and we didn't really start marching to the Hill in a coherent group. I had thought that one of the PIPSC people there would probably at least speak to the group and explain how they expected the day would unfold, where we were to assemble for lunch, where the various amenities were and so forth.

As people started drifting along Wellington Street up to Parliament Hill, I kind of stuck close to identifiable PIPSC people or people sporting the PIPSC-logoed orange hoodies. I did meet other members of the AFS group (which I belonged to before I retired). When I got to the Hill, I noticed off to one side a group of about 4 or 5 people I recognized as part of the PIPSC group being photographed with Jagmeet Singh. Once the photo-op was over, I hung around with them for a while and we listened to the proceedings going on at the stage farther up.

It was well attended and the weather was great, if a little chilly at first. Parliament Hill was a sea of orange and ribbon skirts and banners from various interested groups. A number of people brought their kids and a few had dogs too. The MC announced that there would be further ceremonies at Lebreton Flats (Pimisi?) beginning at 1PM. That's probably where PIPSC was distributing boxed lunches too, although I never did make it that far. One of the group I was with was worried about the walking, another about the relative scarcity of public washroom facilities, so we ended up going to a restaurant on Sparks Street instead. Over lunch, we talked about a lot of things, I got invited to join a book club, and we exchanged contact information so we could keep in touch.

After we went our separate ways, I headed through the Byward Market and along Rideau Street, where there was yet another table of literature about indigenous issues, staffed by some very chatty and well-informed people. I've got quite a bit of reading ahead of me!
Back in 1967, there was a climate of hope, celebration and optimism. It was Canada's centennial year. At school, the class traveled from Ottawa to Montreal to attend Expo '67. In June at the end of the school year, we had our usual open house and devoted our displays to envisioning what Canada would look like in the year 2067. Over the summer holidays, I attended Expo again and my family hosted two Inuit girls, ages 12 and 14, from what was then Frobisher Bay, Northwest Territories.

They seemed happy and excited to be in the big city for a few weeks. I enjoyed their company too. We kept in touch for a few years but then as we got entangled in adult life, that stopped.

But oh, what a difference 54 years makes. Now we white people are the colonial oppressors. I'm not thinking here of those two people in particular, but of the situation in general.

So. Should September 30 be not just a federal holiday but also a public holiday in all provinces and territories? Maybe, maybe not. In Ontario, it's been likened to Remembrance Day: a solemn occasion that deserves to be marked in some way, but perhaps not exactly celebrated.

Here in Canada, flags have been at half-mast for several months. Then we had the Cancel Canada Day movement, lasting through July, August and now September. Can we finally raise the flags again in October? Do we have to always emphasize the negative aspects of our history?

I can't justify or excuse the atrocities that occurred in residential schools or the sixties scoop that saw indigenous children wrenched from their families, communities and culture. On the other hand, I wasn't directly a part of it. Perhaps ignorance, wilful or otherwise, is no excuse, but I find myself constantly thinking "Yes, but..." when I hear the litany of indigenous grievances, legitimate though they may be.

For a number of years now, conference organizers have opened the proceedings by acknowledging that the conference is taking place on unceded indigenous (usually Algonquin in our area) territory. Okay. But what exactly does that mean?

Is the whole of Ottawa "unceded Algonquin territory"? Does that mean that nobody who is non-indigenous ought to be allowed to own land anywhere in the city?

Most homeowners (and their families) have made certain sacrifices to get to where they are: putting together a down-payment and making monthly mortgage payments, while foregoing or postponing other things they might ideally have hoped to buy with that money. Maintaining and improving that property post-purchase. And now they are supposed to accept that their house was never theirs to buy or sell in the first place?

Then consider all those tiny pairs of shoes that sit on Parliament Hill and no doubt on numerous other memorial sites throughout the country. They're supposed to represent all the indigenous children from residential schools who were buried in unmarked graves. Yes, the remains should be identified in an effort to bring at least a measure of closure to families who have been grieving for far too long. But frankly, those shoes are of absolutely no use to the dead children. Would it not be better to give them to families who cannot afford decent shoes and other clothing for children who are still alive? Maybe these resources could be better directed into assuring a supply of clean drinking water - surely a basic human need and right - and adequate food to everyone, whether on or off reserve.

Then there's the Sixties Scoop. Now, plenty of families have outstanding grievances with Child and Family Services, whether they are indigenous or not. It may be down to poverty, to the colour of one's skin, to lifestyle choices that do not conform to the norms of the day. The grievances are legitimate and should be addressed but they are not unique to our indigenous population.

Methods of punishment in indigenous residential and day schools may have been harsher and more arbitrary than in other schools but let's not forget that corporal punishment - "the strap" - was a reality for everyone for my generation, indigenous or otherwise.

Now I'll briefly discuss the thorny issue of religion and spirituality. My family were not churchgoers, at least not when I was a child. But during the 1960s in Canada, even in the so-called "public" and supposedly nondenominational schools, religious instruction was part of the educational system, once or twice a week. You were assumed to be a Christian, probably a Protestant. If you took your lunch to school, somebody was appointed to say grace before lunch, at least in elementary school. We heathens were essentially outcasts, who learned not to say we didn't believe in God. This was the case up to around grade six or seven, at which point the former church-goers suddenly morphed into Borrn-again Atheists, making fun of anyone who was still (or newly) a believer!

I know I've had a fortunate life so far. I readily acknowledge that I haven't suffered the same pain, heartaches and indignities as most indigenous folk. I'm just looking for some perspective here. Can we coexist in harmony or at least acceptance without always thinking in terms of "us and them" scenarios? Can we acknowledge a few good actions and initiatives rather than always dwelling on the negative? We've looked at Truths in all their ugliness but we can't change the past. Whither the Reconciliation part?

So anyway. Let's move forward on those 94 Recommendations. But at the same time, let's not waste time on another sesquicentury of Mea Culpas!
There's come a time in this fair land when the railroad does not run. Something about indigenous protests and a gas pipeline in B.C. Should we white folk just go back to our country? What if this IS our country?

In a way, you never fully own land or have full rights over it. Ditto for air or water or anything else that we all need in life. I can buy a house in an area that's zoned residential but I can't just carry on any kind of activity I want to in that house or in my yard. I can (and must) breathe the air around me and use the water that comes out of my taps and the wi-fi I need for my computer but it's not exactly mine, even though I'm paying for it.

It's one thing to hold a one-day or even weekend-long protest along the railway lines as a way to raise awareness of the issues. It's another thing entirely to assume that once people are informed, they will be sympathetic in the long run, even if they are initially receptive to the message being sent.

I find it rather disingenuous, if not blatantly hypocritical, to frame this as concern for the environment. People who absolutely need to travel will still do so, but they'll travel in ways that are MORE harmful to the environment than the train - private vehicle, inter-city bus or plane. As usual, the folks who will be the most inconvenienced by the cancellation of passenger rail will be the ones who are, if you'll pardon the expression, the lowest ones on the totem pole.

Similar arguments apply to freight transport too although the damage there is compounded. After all, we all need to consume goods to some degree, even if we rarely venture beyond the boundaries of our home town.

Sure, we have to tread carefully when it comes to indigenous issues. It would also be a big mistake to assume that all First Nations people are on the same page about this. But I certainly hope the matter is resolved soon. Let the trains be Idle No More!
According to the latest Census information, the indigenous population (especially youth) has grown rapidly over the past decade, whether on account of higher birth rates, longer life expectancy, more self-reporting, or other factors. It's now cool to be indigenous.

But how much reconciliation is possible or even, dare I say, desirable? And to what extent is truth a relative or subjective or historically-shaped concept?

It is now considered almost heresy to say that there might have been any positive aspects to the residential school system. I consider this to be part of a disturbing trend towards quelling and chilling freedom of expression in various educational, political, social and cultural forums which might once have been thought of as exemplary sites of informed debate and discussion.

Disagreement should be respectful, yes. But a well thought-out argument, whether based on scientific evidence, anecdotal evidence, upbringing, education and years of experience, emotion, faith or personal conviction is not the same as name-calling, ad-hominem and ad-feminam and ad "them"-um attacks, nor should it automatically be equated with harassment, bigotry or hate-speech!

In the early and even later days of the residential school system, it was not so easy to connect, either physically or electronically, with other like-minded and like-needed people. Even today in many small communities in southern Canada, some young people have to travel long distances just to access secondary schools, let alone postsecondary education. Now imagine the challenges that would have been faced in the remote northern communities of fifty years ago!

Back in the summer of 1967, my family was one of a number of Ottawa families that hosted Inuit kids from Iqaluit, then known as Frobisher Bay. As I recall, the twelve-year-old was in grade 4 and the thirteen-year-old (who turned 14 while she was staying with us) was in grade 5. I was twelve or thirteen and about to go into grade nine. Of course, their schooling at the time was in English, which was a second language for all of them. Add to that the fact that many of the Inuit girls were thoroughly boy-crazy - seemingly it was part of their culture to date, mate and propagate very early in life - and you can easily understand the difficulties they would face in getting a decent education. Perhaps we can also begin to understand why cultural preservation and sensitivity might have been considered unaffordable luxuries not just by the white majority but also, I suspect, for many indigenous people hoping for a better life for their children and for generations to come.

We live in a different world today. But if we insist on stifling all discussion and debate about not just the negatives, but also the positives (or at least the inevitables, the necessity-as-mother-of-invention type of aspects) of past practices, then how can we hope to reach a consensus on what is needed moving forward?

Profile

blogcutter

July 2025

S M T W T F S
   12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031  

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 6th, 2025 12:23 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios