Hypocritical Slogans

We've all heard, in some form or another, the constant bashing of non-Canadian made products, especially in the latest manufacturing economical disaster in Ontario. The auto sector is arguably the largest part of this, with General Motors and Chrysler standing on an uneasy surface a few months back. This has brought about the abundant "Made in Canada Matters" slogan; which, in my opinion, it definitely does!
In Canada, we are blessed to have wages that are well above the world average, and we have human rights and labour laws, just to name a few.

Being part of the manufacturing sector for nearly five years now (2 in a "box factory" and just over 3 in "The Motors"), I think I have at least a tiny understanding on where things like this slogan stem from. The autoworkers get portrayed as the money-hungry jerks of the universe, but I dare anyone to spend even 4 hours in a factory, not even an automotive one, and tell me those guys don't deserve the money. There are tons of other jobs out there that get more money than autoworkers, do less, and get less flack.

Okay - now that I am pleasantly off topic, let's get back on track.
People have adopted this "Made in Canada Matters" campaign in full force (or so it seems). BUT - do they actually understand it? Some people do, others don't. I have found that some of the autoworkers do not even understand it. What am I getting at here? I get so frustrated when I see a "Made in Canada Matters" bumper magnet on, for example, a Chevrolet Cavalier.

There is a difference between a made in Canada, and made by a "Canadian"/North American company. The Chevy Cavalier was made in the US, but also in Mexico. They were never made in Canada. Another common one that makes me want to scream is the Chevy HHR (the PT Cruiser look-a-like). The HHR is also made in Mexico, but yet people seem to put "Made in Canada Matters" magnets on it. It doesn't make sense! Either people are just plain ignorant, or they think that they can be a hypocrite because noone else will know the difference. Maybe they won't, especially if they are not involved with the auto sector or know something about the origins of products. People just assume that because a company headquarters is stationed in a particular country that all of their products are made there. The Chevrolet Optra is actually made in Asia (YES! And it's still GM!). Some Optra drivers are also guilty of showing a proud "Made in Canada Matters" magnet. Get a grip.

Thank you to the many Chevy Impala, Ford Edge, Ford Flex, Dodge Caravan, and Pontiac Grand Prix (2004-2008) owners who actually use this slogan correctly!

Since the Canadian and American economies are so tightly bound (as is, really, the rest of the world) maybe the slogan should be something like "Made in North America Matters". It would make more sense; when sales in the U.S. dropped drastically, we here at the Oshawa plant were laid off. When the U.S. started up a Cash for Clunkers campaign, we had Saturdays of overtime booked to keep up with demand.
Personally, if a product is made in the U.S. it is still far better than something that has had to come thousands of miles across the sea from workers who make an absurb amount of money to support their families, and who have to endure impossible working conditions.

I am by no means trying to say that everything I have said here is right, but it is something that I feel is escalating and deserved some attention.

For a listing of products (clothing, restaurants, cars, etc.) that are "Made in Canada," the link is here.

Oh...also, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

- Heidi

Saying Goodbye

I never thought that saying goodbye to a family pet could be so heart breaking. My wonderful little dog, Broedie, passed away last night at 15 years old. He was one of the best dogs in the world - the best, if I have anything to say about it - and I consider myself and my family so lucky to have had the privilege of being Broedie's family for the past 15 years.

When we went to pick out a dog at the breeder's, our aim was to find a female dog and name her Hannah. We had one picked out, but it was Broedie who decided that no, we would not be taking Hannah. We wanted him and he was determined to make that known. He took hold of the towel we brought for Hannah with all of our scents on it and attached himself to us. That was it; he was ours.

He was so easy to train, was never yappy, and was always there to make me smile and laugh. When he was a baby, he was so small that going down the stairs was a daunting task for him, so he stood at the top of them and barked until we rescued him from the top. As he got older and going down stairs proved to be too difficult on his little body, he would start with a sneeze that would again escalate into a bark if we weren't moving fast enough to come and assist him.

I loved that little guy more than I thought it was possible to love a dog. I took every opportunity I had to kiss his head and cuddle him up, so much so that he probably got tired of it after a while. Grandma and Grandpa Bella had custody of Broedie during the week, while we got him on the weekends, so that he was never left alone for long periods of time. He was the most loved dog ever. He ruled the roost, so to speak, and we all catered to his needs. He was such a good boy that it just seemed natural. Even my seven year old self's relentless cuddles and fussing didn't deter him. His love was unconditional, as was mine for him.

He had his blanket - his girlfriend, as we dubbed it - that he loved to play with, and he and I spent countless hours playing tug of war and just "fighting" in general with it. Whenever he came home from my grandparents', he was in a fighting mood. I would come up the stairs and his little body would start to shake and his tail would wag as he crouched down in attacking position. I loved to cover him with his blanket and watch him try to get out, lifting up his blanket just a little so that his tiny, sniffling nose would peak out. My favourite thing to do was go up to him really slowly and act like I was going to grab him so that he would bark and jump around like crazy.

If Broedie happened to get really excited and try to take a bite, any connection he made was followed by his immediately slacked jaw and lick to the hand. I loved it. I always made sure to give his back a good scratch whenever I saw him because, aside from his belly, that was his favourite place to be scratched, and he rewarded me with a kiss every time (and then I had to reward him - for what, I don't know - with a treat).

Treats - or t-r-e-a-t's - were his favourite thing. We had to spell it out while he could still hear, because saying it meant that he HAD to get one. He wouldn't leave us alone until he did. Actually, all he had to do was look at me with those big brown eyes and he would get whatever he wanted.

Whenever I felt down or sad, he could always lift my spirits. His contentment - shown through little sighs or tiny licks of his lips - made me content. Even as his health got worse over time, he was always there to make me laugh or smile. He was a trooper right until the very end, still trying to play and act like himself. Not only was he the cutest little puppy in the world, he was also the best. We really lucked out that Broedie wanted us to be his family.

Losing him has been one of the hardest things that I've had to experience, though his passing was very peaceful and he just went to sleep. Grandpa and Momma Bella and I were there with him as the vet administered the drug, and I know that he knew he was really loved. He will live in our hearts forever and I will never forget him or what a fantastic, loveable, wonderful little "brother" he was.

I'll love you forever, Bubby. Sleep tight, sweetheart.

Snow: A Blessing or a Tragedy?

Do you remember that glorious, white, undeniably beautiful, white stuff we call snow? Well, it’s back for another Canadian winter, though a little bit later than I would have liked. Who doesn’t like snow? Well, sure, I know some people who despise it for various reasons (i.e. driving, the frigid cold, having to dress warmly)... but I always brushed it off saying it was a lame reason to dislike the amazing form of precipitation. If you haven’t noticed, for me, snow is the gift from the Gods.

I have now experienced first-hand one group of individuals that DESERVE to dislike the snow: teachers. Personally, I believe that it takes a special type of person to be a teacher (i.e. one who can put up with 20 kids running around, tattling on their “best friend”, and later hiding under desks...but let’s not get into that bit of the profession). The kids themselves take on an entire dynamic that makes the career a neverending maze with new turns. Snow, however, is possibly the teacher’s worst nightmare.

We had our first bit of snow yesterday (Monday, December 7) while the students were learning about subtraction in math. Now, let’s do some critical thinking here: do you think the students actually learned about subtraction? Or did they possibly add up the amount of snowflakes coming down in the student-claimed ‘blizzard’ that was occurring outside? If you guessed the latter, you are correct, minus the adding up of snowflakes. It was more like, “Miss Harrison! Miss Harrison! Did you know that it is snowing? Did you know that there is a BLIZZARD going on outside? At recess I’m going to make a snowman!”

If I could have turned myself into a snowman, maybe, just MAYBE those students would have heard one single word that I said instead of staring out the window. I am going out on a pretty sturdy limb here, and am going to say that snow is the direct cause for students turning into complete unfocused, wall-climbing...students. It is like sugar that kids just have to see in order to feel the immediate effect.

This morning I was informed 15 minutes before the morning bell rang that my teacher was sick and was not coming in. Instead, a supply teacher would be in, but since I have been here for 2 weeks I was asked if I could teach the entire day. I had to teach the entire class today for the wholeeee day; not just the math and media lesson I had to have planned for the afternoon.

Snow covered the ground this morning. The kids were bonkers – you would have thought that Santa himself made himself visible on the school roof that very morning for all to see.

We’re supposed to get a huge snow storm tonight. There is rumour that my teacher will be away tomorrow, too. I may call in dead. FML

A very stressed Heidi

‘Tis the CHRISTMAS Season

Given that my place of work is getting into the Christmas spirit with decorating and carol singing, I wanted to look into the issue that people of different faiths have with Christmas being the prominent holiday among all of the others around this time of year.

One of my colleagues is in the work choir and, despite being able to sing Christmas carols, they have to leave out the line “war is over” in John Lennon’s popular Christmas tune “Happy Xmas (War is Over)”. Really? I am well aware that there are still wars being fought around the world and in no way do I think that we should be oblivious to that fact, but this song was written many years ago to protest the Vietnam War. It’s a Christmas song, people, and it’s from a different time. Be happy that that particular war IS over.

I definitely think that everyone should be proud of who they are and where they come from. I certainly am. I’m very proud that Canada is seen as a safe haven, and I am happy that we give those who are running from volatile lives some freedom.

The problem, though, is that so many immigrants expect to live the same way in Canada as they did in their home country, and Canada bends over backwards trying to let them. This isn’t India, Pakistan, China, or Afghanistan, to name a few. We celebrate different things here and we have a different language and different laws. If they want to come here, then accept Canadian culture (or what is left of it) and adapt. In a predominantly Muslim country, for example, I would conform to the custom of covering my head and face in public (I wouldn’t even have to wear makeup!) and I certainly wouldn’t object to not having Christmas celebrated because I know that Christmas isn’t their major holiday.

Canada is a primarily Christian country – a majority of people claim to be Christians and, therefore, celebrate CHRISTmas. Others are free to believe in and celebrate whatever they want – that’s what makes living in Canada so wonderful. But it’s a different story when people make a huge fuss about Christmas being publicized and act they’ve been insulted to the nth degree. I would like to tell those people to go back home where their religion is the major faith if they want to celebrate their holiday.

It’s ridiculous how Canadians are so accommodating to the minority when they complain that Christmas celebrations are discriminatory or whatever their problem is. This is CANADA. We celebrate Christmas – we have for years and we will continue to do so for many years to come.

Listen. People don’t have to agree with our customs, our beliefs, and our celebrations. All I ask is that they are respected, and that people respect that things are different here. Well, and I also ask that please, for all that is Holy in this world, learn our bloody language.

Love,

Bella