Remember/Denver

I’m ashamed to admit that last week’s Remembrance Day service at the Winnipeg South Osborne branch of the Royal Canadian Legion was the first I had been to since high school.

There I had proudly buzzed the Last Post and The Rouse on my trumpet.  Now my trumpet has collected dust and I’ve forgotten the tune.

Our recent Remembrance Day assignment in Journalism class (I’m in CreComm, remember) made me realize how selfish I’d been for the past few years.  Thanks, Duncan!

Also, Melissa Martin, a talented and spunky writer for the Winnipeg Free Press spoke at school today about immortalizing experiences through journalism.  Those words rang especially true after recently completing the assignment, which included a profile of someone affected by armed conflict.  I can only hope that I was able to responsibly capture their story.

The other part of our assignment was to write about our experience at the ceremony.

Here’s mine:

A small boy wriggled in his metal chair.  He stretched his neck to see over the puffy white hairdos of the women in front of him.  He pulled the hood of his camouflage-pattern winter coat over his face and tugged at his mother’s sleeve.  She calmly placed one hand on his leg.

The boy was one of the few children who had come to the Winnipeg South Osborne branch of the Royal Canadian Legion to pay their respects on Remembrance Day.  According to the legion’s first vice-president, Maureen Dunlop, about 250 people attended the service, a similar number to previous years.

“Of course, it would be nice to see more young people out,” she said.

The boy continued to shake.  He curled into his seat and tried to press the crown of his head through a space in the back of the seat.  During Last Post he mimed a trumpet, squishing his lips into the invisible mouthpiece.

When O Canada crackled through the dusty speakers, a woman behind the boy began to sing.  Her shrill voice rose above the quiet recording.  She stretched each line of the anthem longer than the recording, often sounding the words moments after the rest of the crowd.

The boy turned around to watch her.  Her blue blouse hung loosely on her thin frame.  Her dark glasses were framed by wisps of white hair.

The boy’s mother grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to facing front.  The woman continued to sing above the music.

After the boy had wiggled along to a recorded recitation of In Flanders Fields by Lt.-Col. John McCrae, a big-band arrangement of Amazing Grace played through the speakers and the boy turned to watch the woman sing again.  His mom’s hand returned to his shoulder but he continued to watch.

His bottom eyelids were puffy and red.  He turned toward his mother and nestled against her side.  He sat still for a few moments after the song, but was soon pulling the hood of his camouflage-pattern winter coat over his face and wriggling in his seat.

–  –  –

After the service, Eva Wasney, Kyle Goldstine, and I visited the Oakwood Cafe on Osborne for a late breakfast or lunch.  Or brunch.  Or lunkfast.

Here’s what I had at the Oakwood Cafe:

Denver:  Two eggs, diced ham, green onions, mixed bell peppers and cheddar cheese on your choice of Texas style toast.  $10.99

Impressions:  The toast was done right – actually toasted, not floppy – but had a little too much butter for my taste.  The egg was fluffy and stuffed with ham and onions.  The cheese was tasty but I couldn’t help but notice the melted cheese had already cooled and solidified by the time the sandwich reached my table.  Adding the bell peppers to the traditional ham and onion of the Denver added a satisfying crunch.

The Oakwood itself was small and classy.  While it was busy (Monday morning on a long weekend) we were greeted politely and seated quickly.

What made it? Unfortunately, the sweet potato fries.  This sandwich was great, but didn’t stand out  in the sea of Denvers.  Perhaps that’s why it’s not one of the 5 sandwiches highlighted as the Oakwood’s specialty.  The fries were spectacular, however.

Sexism

SANDWICHES IN THE NEWS PART 1

That was May 8, 2013.  23 days later…

The former Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard dodged 2 sandwiches at 2 different high schools on 2 different days.

While Gillard joked that the culprit must have “thought [she] was hungry,” many saw the flying lunch as physical representation of sexism.  It was seen as a refusal to respect the authority of the female Prime Minister.

Was it?  Could the sandwich heckler have been a class clown, ready to throw a sandwich at any politician or guest speaker?  Or, could this be the kitchen equivalent to when a man told Hillary Clinton to “iron my shirts?”

Before you answer, consider that Gillard had recently made her famous Misogyny Speech.  Also consider how the phrase  “go make me a sandwich” has evolved into a common dismissal of women.  ALSO consider this menu from Australian Liberal National Party candidate Mal Brough’s fundraiser dinner.

It describes the Moroccan Quail as: “Julia Gillard Kentucky Fried Quail – Small Breasts, Huge Thighs & A Big Red Box.”

She was the country’s Prime Minister.

So often I hear/see people say/write that sexism is a thing of the past.  They say that it’s done its job. Women can vote, they can even be Prime Minister.

No one ever talks about Stephen Harper’s thighs or chest.

Gillard is one of many women in power who are not given the same respect as men in the same position.  Evidence of this is found in media coverage that focuses on a female politician’s clothing instead of her policies and in the lobbing of sandwiches.

Shannon Sampert, a University of Winnipeg Professor, wrote this about gendered politics in the Winnipeg Free Press.

Later in the summer, public opinion of Gillard began to fall drastically.  Australian writer Van Badham wrote in the Telegraph:

“Julia Gillard navigated through the financial crisis, presided over a 14 per cent growth in the economy and pushed through several impressive policy reforms.  The problem for the Australian PM was not her performance.  It was that, from beginning to end, she remained female.”

This may have happened in Australia, but I think it applies to Canada, too…It’s all the commonwealth.

Gillard said, “At the end of the day, yes, it happened to me, but it’s not, you know, about me. It’s about all of us, about women and about the kind of society we want to be for all of us.”

But wait, you say. You are a boy!  What do you care and what could you possibly know?

Yes I am but I think the last ‘us’ in Gillard’s quote above includes me and men and boys.  I care to write a post like this not because I think it will transform the country but because there are so few males that write or talk about issues of sexism.  It has been relegated to a ‘women’s’ issue that men aren’t expected to talk about.  I think equality whether that be between gender, race, sexuality (I know that Gillard strongly opposed marriage equality), etc. is everyone’s business.

I don’t know much, but I hope that by looking at the abuse Gillard received we will realize that there exists a culture of sexism.  We will realize that this culture permits the dismissal of women, especially those in power, and, hopefully, work to end it.

*Next week, I’ll be back on the sandwich grind!