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liking his face

I think of those movies where a subjugated people are freed from tyranny and emerge, dazed and disbelieving – are we actually free? And then – were we actually prisoners that long? That’s how Canada feels to me today. I think of Narnia under the spell of the ice queen, and how, when she was finally vanquished, spring returned. I know, Justin Trudeau as Aslan is a stretch … but you get the idea. We live in a different Canada today.

It was not just any victory – it was a monumental victory by a party that had been completely undone. But more importantly, the victorious leader is someone we have known all his life – at least, those of us old enough to remember his birth on Christmas Day 1971. We remember the love affair of his parents and its painful dissolution; we remember his father’s canoe trips and overseas junkets with Justin and his brothers. We remember, with great pain, the tragic death of his brother Michel and the subsequent death of his devastated father. If I ever want to conjure up a portrait of grief, I need only think of Pierre Trudeau’s drawn and haunted face the day of Michel’s funeral, and I weep.

We Canadians have watched this man grow up, and now I feel a maternal pride at what a fine upstanding man he has turned out to be. And – to tell you the truth – I feel something more than maternal, because he’s a treat to look at. But so are his gorgeous wife and their children. It’s like the early days of Barack Obama’s administration, when we felt liberated from the ugly shroud of the Bush years and rejoiced to look at idealism and beauty, intelligence and accomplishment.

I wrote once here about seeing a photo of Harper with his mother – he was trying to hug her, but he couldn’t actually touch her, his arms were sort of hanging nearby uselessly. There’s something seriously wrong with that man’s heart. But not with this man’s.

Justin and his mother last night.

I know there are tough days ahead, and that a certain disillusionment – as with Obama – is inevitable. But right now, we Canadians have our version of Camelot. And as the days grow cold and dark, that sunny face is a most welcome sight.

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3 Responses to “liking his face”

  1. Anonymous says:

    Very well said…and written. I like your analogy of Narnia and the Ice Queen. Just thought of this now – remember the Munchkins dancing in The Wizard of Oz and singing "Ding Dong, the Wicked Witch is Dead"?

    I was watching Justin Trudeau on YouTube today as he made his acceptance speech and I thought, Damn, that's a fine-looking man! His mother must be SO PROUD!! It'll be interesting to see how he handles himself, both in Canada and on the world stage. He's so young and inexperienced…meeting all those world leaders will be like walking into a den of wolves. But I have a feeling he'll be OK. Good luck.

    Juliet

  2. beth says:

    Let's not forget he spent his childhood with those people – meeting the Queen, the Pope etc. – so he won't be intimidated as you or I would be. That's not to say that there won't be HUGE problems – this is politics, this is a complicated country. But there's a bright new light at the end of the tunnel.

  3. 'bright new light' indeed!

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

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Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.

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