Running for a cause; Terry Fox

Or; Lessons in Canadianism part 1

Okay. So, we are from the Netherlands. And one of our infamous Dutch traits is that we tend to be cheap. In my case it is fair to say that I am Mrs Cheap and married to Mr. Stingy. Thus, it comes as no surprise that we are not too smitten with the Canadian tradition of fundraising. 

Aside from a preschool fundraiser involving family pictures taken by a professional photographer (suggested donation $20...really?!), our first year in Canada was relatively, erm, cheap. But this school year started off at a different level. It started with an announcement in the school calendar at Jura's school that they would participate in the Terry Fox run. I had no clue about Terry Fox...not yet. But that changed pretty quickly. Two weeks before the run, Jura got home with a leaflet about the Terry Fox run. On one side of the page it told the story of Terry Fox. On the other side, it had the dreaded fundraising form, where you could fill in who was paying what amount to help the cause.

It was this side of the page that propelled me back in time to the first, and only, time I participated in a fundraising run. We are talking 1985-ish in a small, Dutch town. The elementary school I went to, wanted to upgrade the "fort" in their playground. I say fort-in-their-playground, but actually the fort was the playground. Apparently in the 1980's having a round fort constructed out of railway-beams that allowed the boys to live out their war-playing-fantasies was the ultimate schoolyard design. Us girls just played "bird" in the bushes, trying to stay out of range of the boys with their acorn-loaded catapults. 

But, as it turned out, the fort needed replacement and for that, the school needed money. So they decided to organise a fundraising run. All the kids brought home the same kind of sheets Jura came home with. And all kids harassed their parents, grandparents, neighbours and friends into sponsoring them for their run. I should mention at this point that I was never one for running. The set-up of the run was that the kids would run on a track around the school grounds and they would get a certain amount of money for every time they completed a round on that track. The usual amount was 0,10 or 0,25 guilders (oh boy, talking about our old money makes me feel so, well, old!). 

However, when it was time to do the run, it turned out that the track was not set-up around the school grounds, as was intended. No siree! Apparently one Scrooge-like teacher had had a cunning plan...so instead they put the track around the old school fort. Basically reducing the length of the track to 1/10th of the original track. Even for someone with my abilities, raising money this way was a breeze! I can still picture the veins popping up in necks of the grandparents who saw their puppies run 100 rounds around the track, thus setting them up for a 25 guilder payment! Luckily for my grandparents, I ran 4.5 rounds, thought I spotted a weakened fledgling in the bushes and spent the rest of the run trying to catch the poor bird to take it home. 

Back to our present time with my own daughter running for a cause. The story on the other side of the leaflet spiked my interest in this Terry Fox person. Even more so, it was the kind of story that I knew would keep Jura awake at night and busy during the day, pondering the more obscure aspects of Terry's life and actions. Preparing myself for questions along the lines of: "Did Terry Fox take his leg off when he slept?" and "Did his mom go with him every time he had to go to the hospital", I decided to google him. And, with every page on Terry Fox that I opened, my respect for Terry Fox and amazement at what he has done grew...

In the week leading up to the run, my very best highschool friend came to visit me in Vancouver. During the 47.5 hours he was in Vancouver, I tried my best to show him what our life in Vancouver was like. However, it was so nice to see him that I feel we mainly spent our time in Tim Horton's or equivalent, sipping on tea/lattes and getting up to date on eachother's lives. As long as I have known him, he has been my literary and musical mentor, i.e. he introduced me to basically every good book and good song I know. He was also the one to introduce me to Douglas Coupland. For those of you whom I have not yet bored senseless with this story; Douglas Coupland is a writer from Vancouver. He is also my favourite writer. Even more so, it was the way Mr. Coupland wrote about Vancouver, that made us decide to try and find a job for Menno in Vancouver so we could live in Doug's city. 

It goes without saying that it was this very same friend who pointed out that my favourite writer had written a book on my most current subject of interest. It took one trip to Chapter's to find it and one really great friend to give it to us as a present (Florian, you rock!). Of course, when we got home, Jura snatched the book and devoured it... 

The next day was Terry Fox day. Of course, the parents were allowed to watch the kids run. By that time, I had read quite a bit in the, beautiful, book on Terry Fox. And I had cried a wee bit already for this courageous guy. I found myself thinking that with a person this inspiring, I could understand where the tradition for fundraising comes from. Yet, I could also not help but feel slightly gigglish when thinking of my little girl running around a track for half an hour. I mean, it's not as if she is known for her physical abilities ;-) 

The Terry Fox run at Jura's school started with an assembly at the auditorium. There is this thing about elementary school kids and assemblies that gets me teary-eyed just by thinking about it. So imagine me standing in this auditorium, with Eluin sleeping in the wrap and Nori next to me, watching my daughter sing the Canadian national anthem. Cue tears. But, it got worse. To educate the kids, they showed a short movie about the life of Terry Fox. Just as the movie was reaching the part of Terry falling ill again, I looked for Jura in the crowd...and saw her sitting crosslegged, with her fingers in her ears, looking at her socks. Cue second bout of tears. When I asked her later why she had plugged her ears, she told me she knew they were going to tell that he got ill again and died. And that would make her too sad and she didn't want to cry in school.

Outside it was gorgeous. The sun was shining, the leaves on the trees already started to colour. The kids running around the track were kicking up great clouds of dust. No matter how fast or slow they went, everybody had fun. 

And all of a sudden I felt amazed. Amazed by this country that is still so young. A country that nevertheless has it's heroes. And is teaching their kids about these heroes, engaging them in actively remembering and honouring them. And I felt proud. Proud to be a part of this. Proud to see my daughter running and knowing that she will never forget about Terry Fox. And proud of the $20 we put in the envelop for Jura to take to school. See, we can change. We can be generous too. Apparently it's all about the cause...