The Cavalry Rolled In
In my rural northern Ontario city of barely over 50,000, 7,000 people spontaneously showed up on the side of the road yesterday. It was a blistering -38°C (with windchill).
This happened simultaneously and without any central planning, everywhere across the country.
If I had to pick a tipping point that led to this moment, I would have to say it was three weeks ago when the Premiere of Quebec threatened to tax the unvaccinated.
My most ardent covidian friends began to privately convulse over the letdown. It was cathartic. I am not even sure how many people put it all together, it just seemed to be too much nonsense in too small a time span.
The narrative of the truckers was beautiful and tragic. The same people who we all believed had taken an enormous risk to their lives in early 2020 to feed the country during peak Covid hysteria, were now being fired for doing exactly what they were called heroes for last year. It made no sense.
And just like that the media turned its attention from the "resistor next door" onto them. They were vilified.
This was the second galvanizing moment. The stories went: They weren't heroes after all; they were every "ist" you could imagine; there were only 12 of them - no maybe a hundred, tops; they weren't coming - the highways were closed; they were dragoons and thieves coming to rape your daughters in the night (no, seriously this was written). At every twist and turn we secretly questioned their resolve in the face of this ruthless onslaught.
This is only the beginning of this moment and it is not nearly over, but there is no going back. I feel deeply that Canadians—led by our cavalry—were dragged across the Rubicon today.
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