When I was a kid, we were taught that Canada had the world's largest supply of fresh water. We had something like 3 million lakes and endless rivers clear enough to drink from even if your mom didn't think it was a good idea.

And while Wikipedia now insists the "Most Fresh Water" resides in Brazil with Russia, China and Canada close behind, it's hard to find a tourist poster for the country that doesn't still feature pristine lakes, glacial streams or Niagara Falls.

We've got water everywhere. But for thousands of us, there's not a drop fit to drink.


I was born on the Siksika Reservation just east of Calgary. And before anybody starts thinking that hiring me makes them eligible for one of those Aboriginal incentives our governments are so fond of -- sorry, they just had the closest hospital when I was ready to make my debut.

But I grew up with a lot of "Indian" kids (the acceptable descriptive back then) and soon became aware that the way they lived was different from the way the rest of us did. The housing on the reserve wasn't as good as it was in the nearby towns. The people were poorer and they seemed to have more problems. And while we got our water from a tap and had indoor toilets, they relied on a communal well and outhouses.

A lot has changed for Canada's Aboriginal peoples over the last 50 years. But in a land still rich in fresh water, thousands living on reservations don't have access to it.

We've all heard the stories of Northern outposts relying on water supplies tainted by raw sewage. Every time one of those makes the newspapers, there's a national outcry. And then it fades. And then nothing happens.

Right now as you're pouring yourself a tall glass of water there are thousands of Canadian children without access to drinking water unless it comes in an imported bottle and forced to visit community centers if they want a bath or a shower.

And the only difference between you and them is that you live wherever you live and they live on a reservation.

This has been going on for years in some places. The continuous "boil-water" advisories, the recurring epidemics, the endless indignity of fetching the day's drinking water and carrying it home in a pail.

All of this could have been solved long ago. Some say $15 Million could solve it permanently. $15 Million! 1/1000th of the money we're spending for the Vancouver Olympics. 1/100th of what was granted this week to our failing automakers.

Money in both cases granted immediately without the need for the reams of feasibility studies and environmental assessments that seem necessary anytime a little is needed by our less fortunate citizens.

Good to know there'll be no thirsty athletes in 2010 and you'll still be able to get a cold Evian or Valverde at the Chrysler dealership when you drop in for a test drive. That Mohawk kid trying to get through his school day -- well, he'll have to wait.

I think we all know the problem here is a political one. And there isn't a political party in Canada who is blameless. They've all held power in one place or another where the lack of drinkable water on reservations has been a concern.

But in the Canadian tradition of political parties, they reward their supporters with consulting contracts and ministry reports that carve away the money regularly set aside for these projects. It's much easier to study an issue than simply solve it and that's how most of those in government service make their salaries.

Gosh, if the problem were solved how would they justify their jobs or their hefty consulting fees?

$15 Million. Less than the budget of "Passchendaele". Fewer public dollars than get spent each year on Film festivals and script development.

During the Christmas season, it's usually pretty easy to run into all stripes of politicians from local officials to your MP, a cabinet Minister or somebody from an opposition party who'd like to have those jobs. They're hosting parties, attending levees and, this year in particular, looking for your support for or against a coalition.

When one of these guys buttonholes you, or you manage to get his or her attention, could you change the subject and ask them one question?

Isn't it time every kid in this country could turn on a tap and get a glass of water?

Because you can't be a rich nation when so many among us live this poorly. You can't be a nation that wants to be great or thought of highly and still treats its children this way. And there's no such thing as National Pride when this kind of shame and disgrace keeps hanging around.

This Christmas season, please add this issue to whatever you're talking to your representatives about. And don't let them just smile, mumble something compassionate and walk away. Demand a commitment. This needs to be dealt with now.

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We're gonna do things a little different this Sunday. Video first and then Jim's little sermon.

And I can't exactly show the video either. That's because it's not in an embeddable format in the only place I can find it.

It's also a commercial as well as technically NSFW and in the spirit of the season, we're trying to stay "family-friendly" as well as fiercely independent here at the Legion.

So go here first and then come right back.

Okay, now I don't care who you are -- that's funny right there. (To coin a phrase)

And don't you just wish some theatre company near you had the cojones to run it?

But theatre folk are generally a conservative lot, imbued with a feeling that they need to respect and protect the rituals and the traditions of their art.


I love the theatre. It's where I got my artistic start and where I have been both enormously inspired and spent evenings the memory of which will entertain me for the rest of my life.

There is simply no experience like being swept into a story which is taking place right before your eyes -- involving real living breathing people just like you!

But all over the world, the theatre is dying. Theatre companies are closing up shop or reducing their seasons, unable (or perhaps a little unwilling) to compete with new media that's more accessible, more affordable and where you don't have to turn up on time and relatively open to participate in a group experience.

Have any of you noticed how so many of our great recent leaps in communication (instant messaging, social networks or blogging) actually succeed in isolating us even further from each other? Oh, the information and the opinions are shared -- but the physical aspect of interacting is slipping away.

Going to the theatre is also hard work. You're required to suspend disbelief on a number of levels; accept that a canvas drop is Elsinore, that there really are 76 trombones leading the big parade and somebody named Godot is actually waiting in the wings. Films and TV fill in the blanks and deliver all the trimmings, theatre expects you to bring something of yourself to the party.

And lately that includes a lot of your money.

When I was starting out, tickets to movies used to cost more than tickets to most plays. I saw great stars like Lawrence Olivier and great plays like the debut run of "Equus" for less than a buck and a half. Well into the 1980's most theatres in Toronto still priced their shows just under the going rate at Famous Players or Cineplex and many still have a "Pay-What-You-Can" matinée to serve those who can't afford a seat at prices that have skyrocketed.

But the costs of producing live shows keep rising and have to be amortized over a constantly shrinking audience base. Tickets for Broadway shows and their touring companies regularly reach triple digits, and locally produced shows aren't far behind.

This Christmas, I decided I'd try to inspire people to do a little something extra in honor of the season. The first was in the post below, and the final one will follow tomorrow. Just little things you might do to make life a little better for somebody else at a time when the rest of the world seems to be going steadily South.

Today, I'd like to ask you to buy one ticket to see a play. Just one ticket -- at whatever price level you can comfortably afford. Because the simple economics are -- if everybody living within a few miles of a theatre bought one ticket, that theatre would be sold out every single night of the year.

And then theatre wouldn't be dying and some of the great performances and great ideas that have inspired generations would be around to inspire one or two more.

The news these days would have you believe that massive forces and unimaginable amounts of money are necessary to turn things around. It can make anything you want to do seem insignificant and impotent. But, in truth, it's the little things that make the biggest difference.

And making a difference for all the people who work in the theatre is as simple as buying one ticket.

Think about it. And enjoy your Sunday.

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Last Spring, a freeway near me was renamed "The Highway of Heroes". It was a special designation recognizing a 100 mile ribbon of asphalt running from Trenton, Ontario to downtown Toronto. This is the route taken when Canadian soldiers who have made the ultimate sacrifice in Afghanistan are returned home.

Military protocol requires the bodies of our fallen be flown to CFB Trenton, where their families have been gathered to receive them. Then a procession of hearses and limousines ferries them on a solemn two hour trip to a morgue in Toronto where their autopsies are performed.


As of today, 103 Canadian soldiers have made this final journey of repatriation and that alone would seem reason enough to rename a road.

But that's not the whole story. Because right from the return of our first casualty something very special has happened along this stretch of road.

While our politicians debate whether or not we should be in Afghanistan, a debate that ramps up in the media with each new casualty, ordinary Canadians are doing something else. They are coming in ones and twos, carrying flags and homemade banners and waiting, sometimes for hours, to show their respect as the fallen pass.

This grassroots show of affection and respect has grown to the point where thousands now line every mile of the route, a truly overwhelming sight to witness.

This week I was in traffic going the other way when our last three fallen soldiers were returned. I'd passed several of the overflowing bridges and overpasses, so I knew what lay ahead, but it hadn't prepared me for the moment when the procession arrived.

Traffic ahead slowed, then came to a stop. As the leading police cars passed on the other side of the median, two elderly gentlemen got out of the car in front of me. They walked to the shoulder, came to attention and saluted as the hearses passed. The Semi behind me laid on his air horn, sounding a long, forlorn salute of his own.

Inside one of the limousines, a woman placed her hand on the window acknowledging one of the banners or maybe the high school kids standing in the bed of somebody's pick-up with their hands over their hearts.

It only took a minute for the vehicles to pass. One of the old guys wiped away a tear as they returned to the car. The other gave me one of those waves old guys give you when they've disrupted the flow of things. And then the traffic started moving again.

An hour or so later, some talking head on CBC radio was going on about how the latest deaths meant we were paying too great a price for the mission. It made me wonder if anybody in the media ever considers that the immediate moment of grief might not be the best time to suggest a family's sacrifice has been in vain.

I've never had to go into combat and I'm not sure what it would take to make me willing to risk my own life or take someone else's in the name of a cause or a commitment made by my country. But I look at Afghan women executed for seeking rights Canadian women don't think twice about. I see little girls disfigured with acid because they just want to go to school. And I see cultural treasures destroyed because they represent the "wrong" religion -- and I figure having fewer of the guys perpetrating those crimes around is probably a good thing.

I also think that we should be doing a little more to let our men and women in uniform know we care about them than simply paying our respects on their final journey home.

If you'd like to send a Season's Greeting to one of our men or women in Afghanistan, you can do so by going here.

And if you'd like to do more, say make a donation to comfort those who've been wounded in battle, assist a military family or help out the people of Afghanistan who have been ravaged by this war, you can do any (or all) of those things by visiting this site.

However you may feel about their mission, these people are half a world away from their families at Christmas and each and every one of them is tackling a problem that requires a heroic personal sacrifice.

Let's show them that we care.

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