How's that working for you?

I don't usually discuss politics because it frankly depresses the crap out of me and wilts any meager hope I have for humanity, generally (and also, I'm usually quite undecided about a lot of the issues).... but I heard an interesting piece on the radio this morning.  Canada's Finance Minister, Jim Flaherty, has recently come under a lot of fire for comments he made pertaining to future changes in the employment insurance program.

The context is namely that our ultra-conservative government is going to change the eligibility standards for those needing employment insurance, aka: financial support for those who are jobless. Of course, it is expected that users of this program search actively for jobs in their field, and they are expected not to abuse. Some people do, obviously... and the government seems to have decided that this is the norm, rather than the exception, and will no longer be making as many allowances for highly-trained people to look for jobs at their skill level.  Right now, you can be paid for longer, (as long as you are searching) to find a job which is relevant to your academic training and former pay-scale... but the government is fixing to change that.

Basically, if you have a degree in chemical engineering and are laid off (I'm not talking about people who quit without just cause or anything like that)... you're expected to take burger-flipping job if you can get it.  Work is work. And hey, that's not to denigrate service-industry jobs either. I work in administration, so... I'm at the same level myself. I'm not sure it's such a bad idea, but compromise has to be made on both sides. You can't be too picky after a while of course, but if you're well-schooled and have a lot of experience, you should also be assisted in finding work suitable to your level of education and education. I also think that people can and should adapt, however, when necessary.  That debate isn't really the point though.  What I have issue with is what the guy actually said.

What Minister Flaherty actually said was: "There are no bad jobs. I mean, I've driven taxis before, I've coached hockey. You do what you have to."

I mean, who does this guy think he is? His statement resumes in a sentence the entire ethical conflict in all of this, and how this government blatantly perpetuates insidious class structures.  He clearly illustrates how privileged he has been, and how he truly has no clue at all what "the real world" is like. If in his world, the idea of a "bad job" is coaching kids at hockey (our national sport/religion) I guess no one in FlahertyLand is an immigrant working low-paid, hard labour in fields, no one has to work in a manufacturing plant, and bad bosses are just a figment of our imaginations.  I guess in his world, chemical engineers really ARE "better people" than waiters or cabbies while we're at it, since he's perpetuating this entirely flawed value-system.

Anyway. I really have trouble putting into words how his snobbery is not only completely inappropriate, but literally ridiculous. I mean, I know a lot of people who'd LOVE to be hockey coaches... and I've also met a lot of taxi drivers who LOVE their jobs, who do it by choice and are the happiest people you could meet. The point is, jobs and status are RELATIVE to each person and their context.  It's naive to try and streamline a system which has so many variables like education level, experience, origins, reasons for joblessness, etc.

However, it seems that the government has decided that we are all lazy and are all out to siphon money off the system for as long as we can. It has nothing to do with the fact that we'd rather work in a field we were trained for. It must be that we all have impossibly high standards, that we're all lazy... and  off course, I'm SURE this sudden decision certainly has NOTHING to do with the fact that the workforce has paid into this system for years, but now that the government has spent the hard-earned surplus intended for employment insurance elsewhere, they're in a financial bind. I'm sure it's TOTALLY unrelated to how we're supposed to pick up the tab for our government's general lack of moral responsibility that way. Nah, we're all just lazy assholes who hate being productive members of society. None of us really want to work, and we're just being difficult. I know I AM.

I'm just glad that I work a government job and am better than everyone else. I shudder to think at what my lazy ass would do, should the government change things and force me to work (cuz obviously, I don't DO that, here) ...... hell, I might even be desperate enough to be a Finance Minister.

Mario

No, not the plumber with the underachieving brother, who adventures through the mushroom kingdom to save some fool princess who can't take care of herself.

I'm talking about someone who I haven't thought of in years. Probably a good 15 years, actually. He was someone who touched my life in many ways.  I was sorting through a random bout of nostalgia yesterday when I suddenly remembered him, and how much having met him has impacted me... even though the recollection was dream-like and fuzzy, because it was so long ago. He was from another life, really... but the instant I thought of him, I knew he warranted an entry. I felt compelled to write something about him, and offer him some small tribute, in my own way. 

Mario was an educator at the after-school daycare program at my primary school (grade school, for you Yanks). He was a 30-something year old man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, who always wore plaid shirts with a vest on top (it was the 90's, ok) along with his customary blue jeans. He drove a black Cabriolet convertible. He always had a smile. He was a good man, from what I knew about him. He would go out of his way to accomodate the kids and make us happy.

Since both my parents worked late, I'd always be at the daycare until about 6 pm, until I was old enough to walk to my grandparents' house after school, a few years later.  Even before that though, I was one of the oldest kids there... so he had me do a lot of things around the place, like putting on a puppet show for the younger kids, or organizing games and other various responsibilities, along with my friends. I don't remember very much about him, other than I was very fond of him.  I recall that he managed to be someone who exerted the authority of a teacher, but managed to do it while always being kind and understanding. I don't remember him ever raising his voice, or getting angry... which some of the other educators did occasionally, even if I don't blame them at all.  (Overtired kids would get under my skin too, haha.)

I don't remember very much else about him, honestly, which I find unfortunate... but two moments stand out most in my mind, aside from the feelings of fondness and appreciation.

The fist most vivid recollection of him was when one of our friends (who has been in a wheelchair her whole life, her name is Emilie) had to get an operation on her lower back.  He had asked our parents and organized an outing to the Children's Hospital, all the way to Montreal, for the small group of kids who were her closest friends. I lived out in the suburbs back then, and Montreal was a good hour away. He'd driven us there himself in his cool, convertible car, and we'd gotten to see our friend all together, and surprise her with presents. We all felt special, cared for and important around Mario. I remember feeling so fortunate that I'd gotten to go on that roadtrip to surprise Emilie and thinking how awesome Mario was to do this for us.

The other very distinct memory I have of him is far less cheerful, unfortunately. It was at his funeral. I remember standing beside my mother, and tears rolling down my cheeks. I remember getting the news in early highschool (maybe 2 years after I'd left primary school) that he had died at 34 years old. 34 years young, really.  My younger sisters had told me that he'd left on a "vacation" for a while... and a few months later, he was gone. It was shocking news to me. My heart had fallen through the floor when I heard it.. even though it had been a few years since I had graduated.

I didn't fully grasp it back then... but you see, Mario was my first encounter with a lot of things.  Mario was a gay man, and he had died of AIDS.  They had told us it was cancer.

His loss was quite a shocking one, especially when my mom tried to explain to me all of these big notions to me at once. The existence of homosexuality. The horror of disease in general. The reality of death.  And don't mistake this list as one with negative connotations. They are just all this concepts I was forced to learned about all at the same time.

I admire her for having tried to explain everything to me honestly. She didn't back away from anything, even the cause of his death. But I also remember a painful realization hitting me when she did.  Simply, that Mario had suffered.  Not only because of the disease, but because, as was the case at the funeral... the nature of his relationship with his "friend" who stood there weeping, had been kept secret. Not maliciously of course... but just because of ignorance. We had never known that he was with anyone, and I always thought he lived alone with his dog. We'd known about the husbands and wives and kids of the other educators at the daycare... but his personal life had always been shrouded in a hushed mystery, and I suddenly realized why.  

I guess they thought that we kids wouldn't understand that kind of love.  But the fact is, I think it was mostly the adults that didn't.  I was surprised, sure, when my mother told me that that sad, sad man standing by the coffin "lived with Mario", but I understood. And honestly, I just felt more sad for him, as I watched him from afar. It didn't mean anything more to me, except that he too, missed Mario, just like the rest of us. Probably far more, in fact. And I swear to you, I'm not trying to sound holier-than-thou here either, but 13-year old me was actually happy that Mario hadn't been alone. I felt a bit confused, but that he had been with someone he cared about was far more comforting to me than the idea that he had died alone.

There were hundreds of people at that funeral, or at least it felt like it. The room was hot, and crowded. Back then, I hated it. I was uncomfortable, anxious and sad... not to mention that I was having a great deal of trouble coming to terms with the fact that I'd never see him again. I'd never been to a funeral before. I'd never lost anyone before.

But now, I see how positive it was.

Even though many didn't understand his lifestyle, and tried to keep it from us... there was no denying how absolutely positive Mario's impact had been on everyone around him. On the kids he tutored, on the parents who trusted him, on his loved ones who missed him.

He was my first experience with death, and with the tragedy of illness... but mostly, I remember Mario for being my first defining experience with the idea that love really does change everything. His love of life, his love of his kids, his partner... and how people loved him back, despite not understanding him completely. I didn't understand everything surrounding his death, or his life... I mean jeez, I remember wondering "what will happen to his dog now?".... but I knew that I'd cared for him, like all of his daycare kids, most of which who were present that day. I even think Emilie was there, too.  

I am not trying to sound needlessly dramatic, but in total honesty, I really will always remember Mario for teaching me that final and most important of lessons, through his life and death, that being generous and loving with all transcends all barriers. If I remember him so fondly all of these years later, even for that relatively brief moment that he was in my life, it's proof enough.