Essays in Idleness

Sixty years ago, today, Canada received her new flag, the so-called “Pearson Pennant”; and I do not remember it because my family were settled in Asia at the time. Of course, being Canuckistanis, my father and I had produced several proposed draft versions in various hues and patterns, not all of which included the brand identifier: a Norway maple leaf, in Pantone matching colour 032. Norway maples grow only in a few parts of the country; but so does any tree, for we have much surplus geography. My preference would have been for a beaver, the original Canadian lumberjack.

I missed the premiere, in which the winning entry was displayed: a superior example of monochromatic graphic art from the Liberal Party’s advertising agency. Several greeted it by singing the “Internationale.” (Was Pearson a Communist?) But I read about this controversial event only later, on the front page of the Montreal Star, when it arrived by sea.

The best part was when the Liberal minions tried to hoist their new banner in the Senate Chamber, over the objection of partisans of our traditional Ensign, with Union Jack next the flagpole in the canton. Some members of Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition had come prepared for a rumble. It was a fine brawl, such as we seldom get to enjoy except during hockey games. But it was the last scrap of British North America, torn from its mast, and a preview of the fifty-first state.

It is also the sixtieth anniversary of Lament for a Nation, by the metaphysical Tory, George Grant.