Chicken Soup for the Canadian Soul Read Online Free PDF Page A

Linkert.

The Unity Rally—
Canada’s Woodstock
     
A ll those Canadians [who went to the rallies] can look at their children and say to them the next time the Canadian flag flies, they own a piece of it. They made a difference.
Jean Charest
     
    It was October 1995, right before the Québec Referendum, and the future of our country hung in the balance. Like millions of Canadians, I sat at home watching TV to see what would happen. The news had more suspense than the 1972 Canada–Russia hockey series. We’re up, we’re down, were up, we’re down—we’re a country, we’re not. Québecers had been invited to vote either “Oui” to separate from Canada, or “Non.” Then, as the “Non” side began to lead, I began to cheer—just as if Canada had scored. Like many Canadians when the polls started showing Québec might actually go this time, I found myself scared that my country was about to disappear and frustrated because there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.
    Then my friend Donna called to tell me that a big Unity Rally would be held on Friday, October 27, in Montreal, and Canada’s airlines were offering a seat sale so anyone could go. Five minutes later, without any sort of plan, I dropped everything and booked a flight to Montreal. Thousands of other Canadians spontaneously did the same. Like them, I suspect, I had a million good reasons not to fly to Montreal that day. But I also suspected that all of those reasons would have sounded pretty hollow the following Tuesday if the people of Québec had voted “Oui” and I had stayed home.
    When I told people I was going on the “save the country express,” I expected to be teased. After all, it’s pretty hokey to fly 3,000 miles just to wave a flag and sing the national anthem. But to my surprise, even my most cynical friends thanked me and said they wished they were going. My dad asked me to hug a Québecer for him.
    In the departure lounge at the Vancouver Airport, I wondered how many of us were heading to Montreal in a heartfelt attempt to show the people of la belle province, that despite what they may have heard, we really did care about what they decided.
    Standing in line, I found a man I knew from work right behind me. “Why are you going to Montreal?” I asked.
    “To say no,” said Chris, who was bringing his son and daughter along to do the same.
    Once onboard, the woman next to me told me she and her husband had been watching TV wishing they could go, but couldn’t afford the airfare. Then some politician came on and said the rally was a stupid idea, and who cares what English Canadians have to say. A minute later she was on the phone to a travel agent. The woman explained she was a Franco-Ontarian, and even though she and her husband were broke, they agreed that when they were ninety, she’d be able to tell her grandchildren that she did her best to help keep Canada together.
    Then there was the schoolteacher from Bonneville, a small town in Alberta. He was carrying a big flag signed by every single kid in Bonneville.
    A flight attendant told me about half the 170 passengers on this regular business flight to Toronto were headed to the Unity Rally. This was not one of the special Unity charters; there were no organized groups on board. No one I met had spoken to anyone except maybe their significant other before deciding to do their bit to help save their country.
    Once in Montreal I spotted Much Music vee-jay Terry David Mulligan, who was covering the event for Much Music. At that moment, I realized this was Canada’s Woodstock. I half expected the organizers to broadcast warnings that “there’s some bad maple syrup out there!”
    The Woodstock image was confirmed when I saw a vendor selling souvenir T-shirts depicting a happy face with long hair, dark glasses, a bandanna covered with peace symbols, and the slogan: “Keep Canada Together.”
    The next morning, Donna and I headed out early to Place du Canada to beat the