Even in summer, being carefree is not easy. But let’s give it a try
It may be summertime but being carefree is not easy.
Maybe it’s the recent controversial actions of Doug Ford’s new government: The repeal of a modern comprehensive sex-ed program in favour of a temporary curriculum designed way back in 1998; the abrupt and arbitrary move to drastically decrease the size of Toronto city council; the costly court case to show the feds that they can’t stick the environmentally friendly carbon tax down Ontario’s craw, no siree. (By the way, my friends, it’s anoth- er paralysingly hot day out there. Hmm.)
Maybe it’s U.S. President Donald Trump’s ever escalating war against the free press, whipping up hate and catcalls wherever he goes against “the enemy of the people” otherwise known as respected reporters travelling with him.
Trump’s hate-the-press campaign, as Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Eugene Robinson of the Washington Post recently tweeted, “is not just a play to the base” but “an existential struggle against what has always been his nemesis: the truth. He knows it can destroy him.”
Or maybe it’s just strolling along my favourite neighbourhood street, the Danforth, in the soft summer night air and stopping to ponder those poignant messages of flowers and love in the wake of a mass shooting that wounded 13 and killed 10-year-old Julianna Kozis and 18-year-old Reese Fallon: “RIP little angel.”
But I’m finding it difficult to innocently enjoy a summer that now, having passed the civic holiday mark, is fast dwindling away.
(See, even that sentence contains too much negativity.)
Why can’t I wake up and smell the iced coffee?
Usually I’m all about extolling summer’s simple pleasures — a walk through a leafy urban park, a threeflavour gelato to share with someone I love, a brisk swim in a cold lake.
You think I want to be the grump at a summer picnic secretly consulting my phone and then rhyming off the latest political nightmare as people are blissfully licking the barbecue sauce off their fingers?
As Arthur C. Brooks wryly observed in the New York Times, perhaps an obsessive focus on politics may be making you (moi?) unpopular this summer.
He suggested a “politics cleanse” for August, aka just enjoying the next few weeks: “Here’s the truth: If you stop talking about politics for a couple of weeks, nothing will change, except you might get invited again to parties.”
I floated that idea of a cleanse to a visiting friend who lives in the U.S. as we sat at an outdoor café drinking our wine. She said she dared not look away, although her response to people who bitterly complain about what they consider a political mess is always a pointed, “Well what are you going to do about it?”
Summer for me has always been a celebratory Canadian treat.
Why do your travelling elsewhere when your own country is at the height of its beauty this time of year?
Even my favorite cities, Toronto and Montreal, are awash in greenery and good feeling. We are the north, but we are also the most devoted twoand-a-half month patio culture in the world. I am always thrilled when I can’t remember the last festive supper I’ve eaten with family or friends indoors.
Summer is also the perfect time for relaxed catching up with old friends who generously invite you to share a cottage weekend with them. That way we can revel in the kind of leisurely conversation that takes place over two days: “And another thing about Trump…” no, wait.
Indeed I’ve enjoyed some memorable moments this season despite political preoccupations.
On the Canada Day weekend, my husband and I toasted our country with two of our best friends on magnificent Georgian Bay, just the four of us, even loudly singing the national anthem (after a few glasses of rose you can change even more lyrics and make it sound just right.)
In Montreal, we sat on another friend’s backyard deck getting to know some young Americans who were the children of family friends — bright, well-educated, and determined with their knowledge and empathy to change their world. It felt magical to listen to young voices who weren’t as worn down as others I could name by the news of the day.
We took in Robert Lepage’s stunning Coriolanus, and a charming production of An Ideal Husband at the Stratford Festival, reminding us that both politics and marriage make for irresistible drama or comedy, often in the same scene.
I like the idea of a temporary escape rather than a complete political cleanse. I refuse to cleanse my mind of necessary warning signals and observations.
To wit, yes it does matter if a Ford cabinet minister uses the now discredited term “fake news” to deny something she does not wish to acknowledge.
We in the Canadian media, having observed the embattled American press, have a chance to do things differently here, to push back sooner and more forcefully against politicians who maliciously seek to undermine a free press by blurring the line between lies and truth. We can’t let down our guard. Which isn’t to say I won’t try with all my emotional might to enjoy what’s left of summer.
The fight for democracy can be waged even from a paddleboat.
I’m counting on it.