Pussy cat, Pussy cat, Where have you been?
I've been to Ottawa to see Michaelle Jean.
...
or, better still:
Pussy cat, pussy cat, Where have you gone?
I've gone to Ottawa to see Michaelle Jean.
I attended the Governor General's Literary Award Ceremonies at Rideau Hall in Ottawa last week. The winner in non-fiction was The Golden Spruce, by west coast writer John Vaillant, a good book with a lot about the history of west coast logging, the Haida, and much else.
Michaelle Jean, I'm here to report, is doing A GOOD JOB. She can do serious and thoughtful (as I guess she had to when Paul Martin came to visit yesterday) but she also does that megawatt smile thing that convinces everyone in the room that this is all pretty terrific. Stage presence: amazing what a difference it makes in a head of state.
On a beautiful late summer evening last September, I drove up to the Sharon Temple in the lush farming country north of Toronto (tho' the suburbs are encroaching) to hear John Ralston Saul give a speech on one of their Excellencies' last official duties. Good speech: JR has a unique ability to move between contemporary issues and the kind of political principles that were being worked out around Sharon by 19th century Canadians like W.W. and Robert Baldwin. Adrienne Clarkson, I reflected then, set a pretty high standard for governors general.
I've written elsewhere (1867: How the Fathers Made a Deal) that our constitution would be stronger if the governor general were elected. And it would. But in the meantime the office is being pretty well served these days.
