Monday, August 10, 2009

...MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD.

A few years ago, I wrote an article for our regional English newspaper. The Federal election campaigns were in full swing, and I had attended the press conferences of both the Liberals, the favoured party in our county, and that of the controversial, pro-separatist Parti Quebecois, or P.Q.. I wrote the piece describing what I had experienced, what I had seen and felt at each of those events. I mentioned how I had noticed that it was mostly “suits” – the ‘white-collar’ business faction, doctors, lawyers, etc., those who were relatively well-to-do, participating in the Liberal activity; whereas the majority of the P.Q.’s group were what is termed blue-collar workers – farmers, those from the service industry, mechanics and industrial labourers, etc.. I ended the piece by wondering if this could mean that people thought the P.Q. was more attuned than the Liberal Party to the needs of the ordinary citizen.

When the newspaper hit the streets, there was some heavy reaction. The editor found himself having to field anonymous calls (some in the middle of the night) from irate readers. The paper was accused of being a separatist rag; the writer was a traitor to Canada; there were even veiled threats that the story should be retracted or else…. The editor, like any good editor, responded by telling the callers they were welcome to send us their views in writing; he would make sure they’d be published. He also added that they should maybe read the article again with the purpose of quoting any statement that would support their accusations. No letters were received. One fellow did call back, saying he had heeded the advice and now found he was mistaken, but we are still not certain if it wasn’t because the editor, in spite of this fellow’s first call happening at 1:00 AM, had recognized the voice and inadvertently said “You have a good night now, Robert.” at the end of their conversation, LOL.

It seems that I have once again ruffled some feathers with one of my latest posts. Although I find it unfortunate, I feel no need to apologize. Anything I write in my blog, unless it is fiction, reflects, as in the former case, what I experience, what I see, and what I feel. It doesn’t mean I’m right, nor does it mean I won’t view if another way at a different time but, at that precise moment when I put ‘pen to paper’, it is my present and personal description of events. Like any aspiring writer, I won’t ever insist that everyone agree with me either. We live in Canada, a great country where there still is freedom of speech. Written comments, for or against, are welcome. I would, however, make the same suggestion as the editor did so long ago – read it again to make sure what is really written there can support your censure.

With that said and done, Shan has advised me that nearly all her packing is completed in preparation for her move. It looks like the vacation I have planned for next week will be mostly real vacation!!! Ain’t that something?

Another footnote – I am making one of my rare visits to the doctor tomorrow morning. I couldn’t believe there was only a 10 day waiting period! I’ve found a lump on the side of my leg, just below my hip, and it’s bugging me, and just painful enough to make the hours I do sleep even less. It’s the side I curl up on while waiting for Murphy to do his stuff. Bird (my bro) is thinking maybe bursitis, but I suspect it will be wiser to get the doc’s opinion, LOL.
And that’s it for tonight, folks. Sweet dreams to you, and a great day tomorrow. I’m counting down to vacation, so of course I’ll be SMILING! Hope you’re all SMILING back!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

1 comment:

polichon said...

Koolcat you got me thinkting. It is true that the Bloc Québécois and the Parti Québécois are made up of the working class.The poor against the rich. Makes me think, not necessarily approve. Matter for thought. I don't recall that you ruffled feathers in you blog. Remind me what it is. When you put your mind to it, you can write a hell of a good subject. Kilroy...XXX