doing something about it

My best friend, Chris Tyrell in Vancouver, has developed a new policy - he won't listen to complaints.  When friends and acquaintances are moaning about health, work or the state of the world, instead of offering sympathy, he simply says, "What are you going to do about it?" It's annoying, and it's effective.   

So I realise that I can't complain about the American election because there's not much I can do about that, except wear the "Obama for President" button and put up the Obama sign that I bought from the "Democrats Abroad" table during the Cabbagetown Festival yesterday.

And I can't complain about the Canadian election unless I'm willing to do something - give money, which is hard for a writer, or give time, which is always hard but not impossible.  I must stop moaning about Stephen Harper's cold timber wolf eyes and the fact that citizens mistake bullying for leadership,  unless I'm willing to do even one tiny thing to make sure that he and his Bushian band don't win a majority government and destroy this country.  

I did something yesterday, a tiny thing.  I was watching the wonderful little Cabbagetown Festival parade, which features Chinese drummers, South-Asian dancers, a bagpipe band, a Caribbean band, gay flag twirlers and Hakim the Riverdale Farm farmer in a tractor filled with hay  - is any neighbourhood in the world as diverse as mine? And there were the politicians - Bob Rae, our M.P., the local Greens and NDP's, whom I applauded.  And then there were the Conservatives, smiling and waving - our equivalent of George Bush's Republicans.  So I booed. I booed in a Canadian, polite way, but I made as loud a disapproving sound as I could.

Perhaps now I should consider doing a little more, so that I have the right to complain.