Read Chicken Soup for the Canadian Soul Online
Authors: Jack Canfield
Chicken Soup for the Canadian Soul (9 page)
To our elation, Mayor Giuliani issued a proclamation officially declaring December 1 as “Canada Loves New York Day” in New York City. Then President Bush generously issued a Presidential Message in which he said:
“The United States and Canada are strongly linked by ties of family, friendship, trade, and shared values. Our countries have stood shoulder to shoulder in war, peace, trial, and triumph, and we again stand together today to defeat terrorism. I applaud the ‘Canada Loves New York’ Committee and the Canadian people for making this event possible in celebration of our solidarity. By responding to Mayor Giuliani’s invitation to come to New York, you demonstrate your love for this remarkable city, and build on the special heritage our countries share as lands of freedom and opportunity.”
A show was planned, and Canadian entertainers generously donated their time and talent.
At the last moment, a group of rank-and-file Toronto police officers approached us. They had raised over $100,000 selling T-shirts door to door. To ensure the money reached the right source, they wanted to hand the cheque directly to the New York Police Department’s (NYPD’s) Benevolent Fund. And so we invited the chiefs of both the police and fire departments in Toronto and New York as well.
Charles Pachter, one of Canada’s leading artists created an emotional painting called
The Painted Flags.
His generous gift was transformed into a commemorative poster. Don Green of Roots produced a special “Canada Loves New York” cap. We hoped to draw three to four thousand people, but as December 1 approached, we really had no idea how to estimate how many might come. On Thursday, November 29, we left for New York—ready for anything.
The doors to the historic Roseland Ballroom were to open at 1:30 P.M. on Saturday for the rally. To everyone’s astonishment, Canadians started lining up at 9 A.M.—in droves. I started walking up and down the line with other volunteers, trying to explain to people they were not likely to get in. But they responded, “We understand, but we’re still going to try.” As I walked along the thousands of Canadians, I didn’t hear one negative comment. The queue started on 52nd street, and then streamed along 53rd Street to 60th Street and beyond! They had lined up along 8th Avenue and Broadway. As I turned and started walking back, I was astounded! The people were lined up on both sides of the streets. With me were some really hardened cops, and I asked one, “How are we doing officer?” And he said, “I’ve never seen anything like this! Most of these people aren’t going to get in. And they’re not even angry!”
As the morning wore on, I kept checking the crowds to say, “I’m sorry,” and the people said, “Don’t worry about it! We’re having a good time!” Charmed and disarmed, the tough New York cops repeated to me, “We’ve never seen anything like this! This is just absolutely amazing.”
We’ll never know the exact number, but it was estimated that up to 26,000 Canadians converged around the Roseland Ballroom that day. Indeed, 53rd Street was blocked off and a Jumbotron hastily brought in. Those who were unable to enter the ballroom or 53rd Street lingered and then moved happily on to enjoy the sights and sounds of New York. Not one complaint was heard. Two red-coated Mounties in full dress uniform became instant celebrities as they strolled along Broadway.
I met a man near the front of the line who had brought his family all the way from Whitehorse. Others had come all the way from Newfoundland. Like other Montreal corporate leaders, volunteer Laurent Beaudoin, CEO of Bombardier, chartered a plane and flew many of his employees down.
A group of young disabled Canadians from Toronto’s Variety Village wanted to attend the rally. With bus and train transportation donated, these young people then travelled for fifteen hours to attend. Given a prominent place, they joyously wrapped themselves in Canadian flags, and were painted in the Canadian colours.
Prime Minister Chrétien, on his way home from Los Angeles, detoured to New York and joined the festivities. As he strolled the crowded streets, he was cheered and welcomed by his fellow Canadians.
The rally was a success beyond our imaginations! During the emotional finale, three Canadian opera singers sang a haunting rendition of “God Bless America.” There wasn’t a dry eye left inside or outside of the room. With tears in his eyes, New York’s Fire Chief thanked us for such an inspiring and emotional event. The chief of the NYPD was obviously and equally overwhelmed.
The highlight of the weekend for me was when Mayor Giuliani came up to me at the end. With a tear in his eye, he put his hand on my shoulder, and whispered that this was one of the most inspirational moments he had experienced since September 11.
At the end of the presentation, we invited him, all New Yorkers, indeed all Americans, to come and visit us in Canada, when things were once again running smoothly in New York. And he enthusiastically accepted.
As Canadians left the Roseland Ballroom and drifted away from the surrounding area, the Mayor thanked me for everything. And I said, “Look, you shouldn’t thank me, or the volunteers. All we really did was facilitate something Canadians wanted to do, and they’ve surprised us in overwhelming numbers. Yes, all the volunteers worked nonstop to respond to your compelling invitation. But most of all, we discovered that all you have to do is ask Canadians to do the right thing, and then move out of the way. They will do it, and in overwhelming numbers, in a warm, wonderful and generous spirit.”
Just trust the Canadian people. They will surprise you every time!
Senator Jerry S. Grafstein, Q.C.
Toronto and Ottawa, Ontario
I
dream of a great statue below Québec City on
the Ile d’Orleans, with its arms outstretched in
welcome to immigrants as they first see the
Canadian heartland. On that statue I would
inscribe these words: Leave all your hates
behind. Bring us only your love.
Gregory Clark
I have an idea.
Let’s start a country. This country would have bright leaders in politics, labour, business, education and other fields. These leaders wouldn’t squabble or call each other names. They would try to get along.
In this country, people would work hard—and they would be allowed to keep a lot of their money. They’d help out the handicapped, the old, the sick and those who had been thrown out of work for no fault of their own. But no freeloading would be allowed. You wouldn’t be able to sit around twiddling your thumbs, abusing your body, making trouble or just being a nuisance. You would have to do your share and not expect somebody to look after you. You would be responsible for your life—and no running away. You would have to be useful.
In this country, you would be expected to respect other people, and they’d be expected to respect you. You would not be allowed to sit around griping all the time or making a lot of demands. And if you made a mess of things, you would be told to look for the culprit in your own mirror first, before you started pointing a finger at someone else.
You’d have to follow some rules because this country would work best that way. For example, you’d have to keep your mitts off other people, unless you were showing affection. No abusing animals either, or property, or people’s dreams. And you’d be asked to understand things, like feelings and hopes.
What about kids? In this country, kids would be special and receive a lot of love and peanut butter sandwiches and talks. In return, they’d be expected to go to school, learn something useful and not be smart alecks. They could keep pets provided they looked after them.
Everyone would be expected to cherish this country and treat it kindly, understand its riches, and make sure something was left for the next generation.
Putting this country in second place to any other country simply wouldn’t be allowed. You could wax sentimental about some holiday spot, or a country in your past or some place you saw in
National Geographic.
And, of course, you would be allowed to get dreamy about Paris. Everyone does. But this country would be your number one, top priority—your very own place, your home.
You would feel good about other people from your country, even if they were a little different. You wouldn’t act like a goof and insult them or treat them in a way you wouldn’t want to be treated.
This country would have a nice touch of pride—but pride in important things, like integrity, intelligence, cleanliness, decency and fairness.
What else?
I think I’ve left out fun. This country would have lots of fun because life isn’t worth much without fun. You wouldn’t want a country where everyone has a long face and snaps about the littlest thing, would you? You’d want to hear laughter. It’s as important as sunshine.
So. No idlers. No bullies. No grouches. No ingrates. No shouters. No sourpusses. No crybabies. No parasites. No hotheads.
Yes, let’s start a country.
We could call it Canada.
Gary Lautens
Toronto, Ontario
C
anada is a country built on dreams,
dreams of men and women who come
here from many of the countries I have
travelled through. If you combine the
richness of the country with the spirit
of the people, our potential as a nation
is unlimited.
Rick Hansen
F
eel the flame forever burn, Teaching lessons
we must learn, To bring us closer to the power
of the dream.
David Foster
When my son Ryan was six years old and in first grade, his teacher, Nancy, talked to his class about developing countries and how they could help people, particularly children, in other parts of the world. She explained that besides not having toys or enough food, some of them didn’t even have clean water. For these children sitting in their comfortable classroom in Kemptville, Ontario, the idea of children not having any toys, or enough food or water, had an enormous impact.
The principal had distributed a list that showed the costs of buying supplies in developing countries. A penny would buy a pencil, a dollar a hot meal, two dollars a blanket. Seventy dollars would buy a well. When Ryan heard people died because they didn’t have clean water, he was deeply affected. He came home that day and insisted he needed seventy dollars for class the next morning.
We thought it was very nice that he wanted to do something important, but we didn’t take it seriously. My husband Mark and I both do volunteer work, but Ryan was only six years old—and we just brushed it off.
The next day, Ryan came home very upset because he hadn’t been able to take the seventy dollars to school. People were dying, and he insisted he needed that money.
Mark and I discussed it, then explained to Ryan that seventy dollars was a lot of money. If he was really interested in doing something, however, he could earn it.
I drew a little thermometer on a sheet of paper and said, “This is how many dollars it takes to get to seventy, and if you’re prepared to earn it, we’ll give you extra chores.” He happily agreed, so we put an old cookie tin on top of the refrigerator and started giving him chores.
Well, Ryan worked and worked and worked. With every two dollars he earned, he got to fill in another line on the thermometer, then throw his money into the cookie tin. He never stopped working. Ryan vacuumed, washed windows and much more.
He did chores for the neighbours and his grandparents, picked up brush after an ice storm—and it all went right into the cookie tin! When we realized he was really serious, we thought,
Okay, what will we do with the money once
he’s raised it?
We had no clue. After four months, Ryan was nearing his goal.
I called a girlfriend at CUSO (a Canadian International Development Agency) and asked her for suggestions.
“We can take it here at CUSO,” she replied. “But let me look around for a more appropriate organization that might specifically build wells.”
Brenda contacted WaterCan in Ottawa and set up a meeting for us. WaterCan is a Canadian nonprofit organization providing clean water and sanitation to people in developing countries.
In April 1998 we went for our meeting, and Ryan brought his cookie tin full of money. Nicole, the executive director, and Helen, her assistant, were very gracious, thanked him and told him how important his donation was. Then they told us it would cost a lot more than $70 to build a well—in fact, it would cost $2,000.