My Canada

Short Story

2009-03-06T12:25:00.001-08:00

The Transformation of James Moon

James could feel his father’s disappointment in the air as he drove away. Their trip winter camping together on Lake Temagami was supposed to last four nights. James only lasted three nights. After his constant complaining his father finally told him “just go home James for both of our sakes,” and he’d finish the trip by himself. In some ways he felt bad leaving him however he was just glad to be getting home.
James Moon hated the outdoors. He would rather be cramped up in his tiny, musty apartment than have to spend any duration of time out in the fresh air. This trip was supposed to be a father son bonding trip before James went back to university in January. James and his father had never really been close. It had been his father’s idea to come to Lake Temagami in the frigid December temperatures. James had not expected such cold, cold temperatures and after the first night he’d done enough complaining to last a month. Finally after the third night his father couldn’t take it any longer. He sent him home feeling more distant from his son than ever.
As James drove along replaying the events of the three days in his mind he began to lose focus of the road. He briefly thought about his father’s disappointment in him but in his typical selfish ways his mind slowly drifted to thoughts of his plans with friends when he got back. The first thing he was going to do was call a few of his buddies so they could go out that night. He forgot all about his father… and the road.
A while later after James had finished daydreaming he suddenly focused back on the path ahead of him. He looked around at the sea of white ahead of him. He suddenly realized he had not looked down at the map in what felt like ages. He stopped the car abruptly starting to become panicked. The winds were fierce and the wet snow made loud patting noises as it hit the car. James studied the map his father had given him. He then looked out the window at the landscape in front of him. Nothing matched the path he was supposed to be on. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea where he was. He frantically looked all over the map. James did not want to admit to himself that he was lost. After many more minutes of frantic looking around him and at the map he finally stopped.
James got out of the car. He decided that it would make sense to retrace the tire tracks in the direction that he came. The snow was swirling around him and all he could see was white. As he squinted through the mass of white before him he realized that with all the time he wasted his tire tracks had been completely covered and blended in. James’s heart sank. He was stuck.
James got back in his car. He thought about what he had learnt from his father during their three nights together. James was terrified. He knew he would have to spend the night. James had never needed to step up like this before in his whole life. He had always been kind of immature and he knew that. Tonight, James knew he must grow up. James remembered making the hollowed out snow mounds called quinzhees to sleep in. He thought back to how he had watched his father pile all that snow while he sat back because his hands were ‘numb.’ He decided it was the right decision to make one to sleep in for the night.
The blizzard was dying down now and James was becoming tired. His arms ached from piling snow using a pot for cooking because it was all he had. He had to use a plastic bowl to scrape away at the walls of the tiny quinzhee he had made, in order to hollow it out. He was becoming slightly lightheaded from having nothing to drink in the last few hours. His father had told him to bring a nalgene filled with water with him but James had insisted that he would not need it. He greatly regretted that now. James remembered how his father had used a long thin blade to cut out a hole in the ice. He went to the back of the car and opened up the trunk. He moved around all his things but could not find anything that would possibly be able to cut a hole in the extremely thick ice. This is one of the times James knew he needed to step up and be creative. He needed water to survive.
The sun was setting and James had yet to have any water. He needed water to make some food and for him to drink. A snowflake fell onto his nose and quickly melted. That’s when it hit him. He could melt snow in a pot over the fire he had made. He remembered his father talking about this now. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It didn’t make sense to him though. Wouldn’t the water evaporate? When he put the snow filled pot over the fire he continuously stirred. He thought this would prevent the water from evaporating. He was right.
After James had cooked the Kraft dinner he had found in his pack it was almost completely dark. He retrieved his flashlight from the back of his car and put out the fire he had made. It was time to get into his quinzhee. He dragged his pack in after him as he climbed into the small hole. It was completely dark. He switched the tiny flashlight on and pushed it into the snow so it would stand up. James remembered his father talking about how it was important to change from your sweaty clothes to fresh new clothes as painfully cold as this might be. As stubborn and immature as James was he had not listened to his father and slept in the same clothes as he had worn in the day. Tonight was different. James needed to survive anyway he possibly could. After changing in the extremely cold air, James climbed into his sleeping bag and drifted off to sleep.
James woke to the sound of a revving engine. He got out of his sleeping bag and put on his jacket and pants. He heard a man’s voice.
“Hello? Is somebody out there,” James called.
James heard a muttered answer but could not make out what he was saying. He climbed out of the hole into the daylight. There stood a large man all bundled up in a red coat. Behind him was a large blue pick-up truck.
“Howdy. What are you doing out here all by yourself?” the man asked.
“Trust me it was not by choice.”
The man looked confused.
“I got lost and had to spend the night,” James continued.
“Well where are you looking to go? Hop on into your car and I’ll lead you wherever you need to go bud.”
James packed his things back into his car and got ready to go.
“Where are we going bud?” asked the man one last time.
James thought back to how badly he had wanted to see his friends before. He could go over to his friend’s house and tell him all about the crazy night he had spent alone on the lake. They could go out tonight like they were supposed to the night before. But there was only one person James really wanted to see right now.
“My father’s house,” James replied.

Poem Response

2009-03-06T12:18:00.000-08:00

After reading all the poems I really enjoyed ‘The Canadian’s Home- Song’ the most. I really liked the way that Duncan Campbell Scott captured Canada. I love the way that Scott focus’s a lot on imagery. He talks about sounds, sight and landscape all in this poem. When he uses this technique of imagery it really helps to enhance the readers understanding of what Canada is like. For example when he writes “I hear the sparrows sing;/I see the bloodroot starting,/All silvered with the spring,” the reader gets an example of sounds from Canada and images that you might see. Also, the fact that this poem was written in the early 20th century reveals how Canada would have been at the time which is interesting to me. Scott writes, “My snowshoes creak and whisper,” he reveals to the reader the adventure and exciting things Canada has to offer as snowshoeing is not a common activity in a lot of places but it also shows the lack of technology and greater focus on nature at the time. Nature is a huge theme in this poem and seems to be what he is focusing on. I really feel that it is nature that Scott finds beautiful in Canada. You can see his passion for nature when he says “darling maple-tree.” To me this shows he has a lot of passion because not a lot of people would refer to a maple-tree as darling. It shows that he really cares about simple elements of nature like the maple tree. Overall I enjoyed this poem the most out of the ones we read in class because of its focus on the beauty of Canada and nature. I enjoyed reading what somebody else loves about the country I live in. His descriptiveness describes places in Canada that few of us really get to see. This poem really shows Canada in all of its uniqueness.

Form Poem

2009-03-06T12:16:00.000-08:00

Blue Sky- Viator

With a blue sky over my head,
I take a walk in the crisp spring weather,
Whimsical flowers line the creek bed,
And floating on its waters, a single feather.

I trudge along the creeks muddy side,
With a blue sky over my head,
I see a young squirrel trying to hide,
It appears all the other creatures have also fled.

I turn from the creek to take a rougher path instead,
In the distance I hear the buzz of the city,
With a blue sky over my head,
It is the city folk that I pity.

As the dirt path nears its end,
The sound of the city is becoming widespread,
I see the masses of people as I come around the last bend,
With a blue sky over my head.

Outdoor Poem

2009-02-16T13:19:00.001-08:00

A Winter Walk

Trudging through snowy banks along the lake’s side,
The winter wind swirls around me acting as my guide.
I follow that bitter breeze wherever I am lead,
I gaze down at the footprints where others before me tread.
On the cold lake water, the reflecting winter sun dances,
Each shining gleam catches my eye as the sun continuously prances.
With that frigid lively wind acting as my guide,
I am led beyond the bridge, up a hill, standing on the lake’s side.
Snowy branches act as a canopy over me as my body shivers,
I hardly notice the white flakes falling down, tiny as slivers.
Overhead a ‘V’ of geese flies swiftly against the orange sky,
The sun is starting to set saying its final goodbye.
I turn around to admire the forest behind me,
The temperature is dropping and it is time for me to flee.
That bitter breeze recognizes my concern,
And as I spin around to leave, that breeze, I can also feel turn,
I follow the now hardly visible prints back to where I came,
And to my surprise that swirling wind does the same.
The crinkle of my snowy footsteps echoes in the night,
In the dark sky I see the full moon shining bold and bright.
I reach my door and turn to tell the wind it’s time to say bye,
But as I go to speak I find it has already drifted up to the dark winter sky.

Canadian Identity Poem

2009-02-16T13:19:00.000-08:00

Could It Be

Canada is a country full of heart
But what is it that sets us apart?

Could it be British Columbia’s calm waters and rocky mountain tops,
Or perhaps it’s the breathtaking Pacific where British Columbia stops.

Could it be the boreal forest that occupies Alberta’s terrain,
Or perhaps it’s Banff where it’s always beautiful even through rain.

Could it be Saskatchewan’s national flower the Western Red Lily,
Or perhaps it’s the bitter winters in Saskatchewan that can get rather chilly.

Could it be Manitoba’s majestic forests spreading far and wide,
Or perhaps it’s the pristine rivers with no developments on their sides.

Could it be the wonderful attraction of Ontario’s CN tower,
Or perhaps it’s the Niagara Falls, a must see sight with so much power.

Could it be Quebec’s predominantly French speaking women and men,
Or perhaps it’s the Parliamentary building which is busy no matter when.

Could it be Newfoundland, the province that is farthest to the east,
Or perhaps it’s the Appalachian Mountains you must see once at least.

Could it be the beaches and bays and marshes of P.E.I,
Or perhaps it’s how they produce potatoes at a very large supply.

Could it be New Brunswick or Nova Scotia, two provinces that are rather small,
Or perhaps it’s these provinces which were inhabited by aboriginal peoples first of all.

Could it be the northern territories in a group of three,
Or perhaps it’s the Canadian Arctic Islands located here that few get to see.

So what exactly is it that makes Canada so unique,
It’s all these characteristics and wonders of which I speak.

Canadian Poem

2009-02-16T13:13:00.000-08:00

Canada

It was formerly believed, on a sea-battered shorethough the storm at home blasted,that in the distant west there still lay lands,where calm and sun never ended,for there the good season had found it's retreatand freedom and compassion - all that is best.

They set no sail, but thought high,by the ocean they dreaming stood,as the sun slid into the lowest westin the evening's blue-misted spring dusk,then hope and desire glide out with the breezeon the still-blank, sun gilt, wide armed sea.

Though oceans still flood, that separate lands,the passage across is effortless.And our Markland, Canada, its genius and carethe world held out to you over the sea.To the Greeks you could only appear in a poem -but to Icelandic sea kings you gave yourself first.

Still human hope turns its tired eyesfrom the east, to dream about you -you proved good to all, who loved you fervently,who possess here rapture and home.And all with you is fullfilled and able to rootwhich the unquiet spirit has dreamed best.

Stephan Stephansson