We’re all chez nous ici

Bob Morrissey

Often, francophone separatists and many nationalists insist that the only way they can preserve their language is by having their own country; to separate. Most anglophones don’t buy it, and neither do a majority of francophones.

These same malcontents like to double down by adding, “We don’t feel at home in Canada.”

Excuse me?

When I hear that, I feel like asking, “Why not? What makes you think anglophones feel more at home than you do?”

Then I remind myself, “I know I feel at home … and I also know why.”

I think about all the things English and French Canadians share: universal health care, low unemployment, a low crime rate, a strong economy, diversity, social services and free education up to university. No wonder Canada usually always ranks inside the top six in best countries.

And don’t forget our shared love of sports and our vast tracts of wilderness; in fact, the only thing we don’t like about our country is our climate. Brrr … unless you live in B.C., and then it’s: “Don’t forget your umbrella.”

So what would make francophones feel more at home here? One answer is: stop trying to divide us. It’s not working. The latest poll shows only 25 per cent approve of Quebec Premier François Legault, leader of the CAQ. Poor guy must be asking himself, “Is this the thanks I get for making life miserable for the English, the allophones, the universities and the Muslims?”

My advice for Monsieur Legault is to expand his horizons. Spend more time in the Montreal area. Forget about the rest of the province — that’s all entrenched francophone.

Case out our hospitals and see how many different languages you hear, many spoken by doctors. You might want to bring a bodyguard. Go to golf courses and see how the French and English mix. Watch how we interact at Canadiens and Alouettes games.

No need to go downtown again, Monsieur Legault. You’ve already done that and complained about hearing too much anglais. Any opinion on all the run-down, shuttered stores? Didn’t think so.

You must be wondering why your popularity is in a free-fall. After all, you’re only trying to save the language. Well, maybe a lot of francophones in Montreal, the West Island and Laval view things differently. They know their language has survived for hundreds of years without draconian laws.

Maybe in their heart-of-hearts they think you’ve done enough; that now it’s piling on. Maybe some francophones actually LIKE us. Plus, there are more pressing matters that need addressing that actually affect our day-to-day lives.

And, please, lighten up a little on language. The latest census shows that more than 70 per cent of Quebecers whose native tongue is English are bilingual. There are waiting lists for French instruction.

You guys are winning. Maybe it’s time to move on — but please stay away from sports: no more decisions like one that cost Quebec $7 million for two NHL exhibition games in Quebec City.

Now, about not feeling at home in Canada? What does that even mean?

Do people in Maine have warm, fuzzy feelings about people in North Dakota? Of course not — and nobody expects them to. Do people in West Virginia feel all snuggly about citizens of San Francisco? Not likely. Does it bother them? No. These places all have their own distinct cultures, viewpoints and ways of doing things. And they’re all under one big umbrella. Like Quebec is.

It’s the same in Canada, second largest country in the world, behind Russia, with territory spread out over 9.9 million square km. Do I feel a closeness to people in Newfoundland or the Gaspé? No. But that doesn’t make me feel like a stranger here.

I don’t even feel at home in Valleyfield, which is a 20-minute drive from my front door. Or Little Burgundy. Or Villeray.

The reason is simple … and obvious: Those towns have never been a part of my life. I have no memories — good or bad — there. But I definitely feel at home in the Snowdon area where I was born, and in Côte St. Luc where I spent my teenage years and, now, in the West Island.

But aren’t most of us like that? Don’t we all have are special places: where our favourite restaurant was, where we played outdoor hockey, where we went to school, where we had that weird neighbour, where we had our first date (in my case, my first refusal).

There’s a saying people often use when they return from vacation: After opening the front door, the first words out of their mouths are, “There’s no place like home.”  And that’s a feeling all Quebecers should share. You MAKE it your home. It’s right there; right in front of you.