Dear Sometimes,

You are so two-faced. The purveyor of hope but also despair. Because Sometimes it's all in your head and everything is fine. But Sometimes they really are plotting behind your back, talking and laughing about you. Sometimes you ride off into the sunset and get your happy ending. Sometimes you tell the person you love something painful about yourself, hoping it will bring you closer, but they accuse you of making it up. Sometimes the sun shines, the birds sing and all is well in the world. Sometimes a guy walks into a school and shoots a lot of little children.
Just to clarify Sometimes, this is not a love letter.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Why,

You're not a rhetorical question. We want an answer.


Sincerely,
PC

Dear Santa,

For Christmas I would like:

1. A pony

2. Donald Trump's head on a platter. Taking extra special care with the hair, of course. But if the Donald is considered too indispensable for Republican imbeciles or late night comedians, then I would gladly accept the heads of George W Bush, Rush Limbaugh, or Karl Rove instead. I'm easygoing, Santa.

3. Honey Boo Boo placed with an Amish family for a year or two. I'm thinking the severe culture shock will help to balance the poor little thing out and give her a shot at a better life. And imagine all those sad tabloid stories the world would be spared from reading, Santa. I believe that is called humanitarianism.

4. Justin Trudeau to win the Liberal leadership and become the next Prime Minister of Canada. This one I'm begging you for, Santa. Stephen Harper has been very very naughty. For the sake of little Canadian boys and girls everywhere Santa! Justin has the hair, I mean the heart to make this country great again. Please Santa!

5. Peace in the Middle East. Or radio stations to stop playing that damn Woop it Gangnam Style song. Whichever is easier. I know you're busy, Santa.

6. Michael Fassbender or Leonardo DiCaprio. Or both if I'm very naughty, I mean very good.

We'll that's it. Thanks Santa!


Sincerely,
PC

Dear Fifth Business,

It's been many years since I read the classic by Robertson Davies but I've been thinking about it a lot lately. You're an interesting concept, Fifth Business. The idea that the primary role of some people is to move the action forward in other people's lives. Like the man who makes a comment that resonates deeply with a woman and inspires her to enter politics. Or the girl who helps a boy realize he's finally ready to have a woman in his life, but just not her.
Now don't get me wrong, Fifth Business. It's good to be helpful. It's an honour to contribute to the building of someone else's dream. But to always be the sidekick? To always be the friend and never the star? Doesn't everyone deserve the chance to be the main character? In every life, shouldn't the story actually be about that person once in a while? Perhaps it's time to divvy up the action, Fifth Business. Perhaps it's time to be fair.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Insecurity,

I am deeply ashamed of how completely I've allowed you to control my life. Every step I haven't taken, every word I haven't written, every romance I've destroyed, you Insecurity have been behind it all. You're the voice whispering incessantly in my ear, telling me I can't, I will fail, I'm not good enough, he could never love me.
I know what I'm supposed to do, Insecurity. I'm supposed to make a pretty speech about how I will muster the strength and courage to overcome you. But you've been working on me for over three decades and I'm feeling a little spent. I have no pretty speeches for you at the moment. They say, though, the first step in overcoming a problem is to recognize you have one. So be on notice, Insecurity. I have recognized you.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Taliban,

I pity you. Trapped in the sickness of your mind you kill and terrorize for the reward of a glorious after life. Too bad it doesn't exist. Not your version. So the joke is on you. And it always will be.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Such is Life,

It's amazing how thoroughly and consistently you're able to spread your message of the crapshoot nature of our existence. Quite admirable, really. So congratulations to you. Yet again.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Summer,

You're an asshole.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Mechanic at the Oil Change Place,

Thanks for ripping me off only a little bit. You're swell.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Mary Pipher,

I heard you on CBC Radio a few years ago and never forgot something you said. You were promoting your book Seeking Peace: Chronicles of the Worst Buddhist in the World and you talked about why you and your husband are such a good match. You asked him once what he was thinking about and he said "Pie." Then he asked you what you were thinking about and you said "The Holocaust." Mary, I so get that. Like you I often have heavy world matters on my mind. Your husband lightens you up and this is an important thing. So thank you for inspiring me to search for a man who thinks about pie.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Charles Worley and all the other Baptist pastors preaching against gays,

Seems to me it would be far less time consuming, and a lot more fun, to round up all the fat white bigots and place THEM in an electrified pen. Just think of the lovely sizzling sound y'all would make.
Sincerely,
PC

Dear Wall,

Unless you're providing structural support, we've always been taught you're bad. I remember watching the Berlin Wall come down and the ensuing jubilation and gushing commentary. Politically, socially and individually, the consensus is you're a negative thing, Wall. There should be no barriers, within reason, between countries, ethnicities, rich and poor. And individually we must always let down our guard in order to have meaningful relationships. But there is a kernel of an idea that has been forming in my mind these last few years - a terrible, treasonous idea. I'm a Liberal. A Canadian. An enlightened being with a heart and conscience. I'm supposed to be the good guy! These thoughts should not enter my mind. But they're there, swirling and threatening to multiply like bacteria in a petri dish. I will never admit this to any of my left-of-centre friends. And at dinner parties I will continue to extol on the evils of Harper and Bush - for I truly do despise those guys. But this idea brands me a traitor to everything I have believed in and held dear. The idea is this: maybe you, Wall, are a good thing. Maybe you're even a necessity. Maybe the grand human experiment of co-existing on this planet has failed. Maybe we need to build a lot more of you, Wall, strong and thick and high. Maybe Al-Qaeda wouldn't have crashed into the towers if you, Wall, had been between us, so tall that we could go about our lives as if the other didn't exist. After the end of the Cold War human beings decided to be human beings and age-old animosities were dug up and acted upon. Would the souls that were lost in the Bosnian War still have been lost if the Berlin Wall had been left intact? In Rwanda, if the Hutu and Tutsi tribes had you, Wall, between them maybe Romeo Dallaire wouldn't have had to shake hands with the devil. And if long long ago Jews had you around them, Wall, incredibly high and protective, would the Hitlers of this world have had nothing to say? Am I wrong? Am I terrible? If my twenty-year-old self were to meet me now would she be disillusioned? Have I turned into an old crank like Archie Bunker before I've even turned 40? It's fitting that I should think of Archie. It was while watching an episode of All in the Family that I remember first learning all was not well on planet earth. Meathead and Gloria were discussing having children. Gloria was pressing for a baby and Meathead got angry and yelled that he didn't want to bring a child into this terrible world. I was 8 or 9 at the time and understood that there was truth in Meathead's words because the studio audience fell eerily silent. How did this happen, Wall? How did I reach a point where I could consider you a good idea? Maybe one day it will make sense. Until then, publicly I will support your dismantling. But privately, between you and me, Wall, I see your merits.
Sincerely,
PC

Dear Cruelty,

You continue to surprise me. Not that you exist. I'm not that ridiculous. I watch the news. I've done my time in a schoolyard. You exist all right, Cruelty. But for some reason I'm surprised when I personally encounter you; when otherwise mature and rational adults put you on display. Not long ago I learned that someone I care for, someone who I thought cared for me, at least a little, has been speaking cruelly about me. The discovery was, shall we say, disillusioning. You're at your most potent when you aim for the heart, aren't you Cruelty? Of course, in true optimistic fashion I attempted to deny it, to tell myself it wasn't true. But of course it's true. Well, you may leave a mark, Cruelty. You may leave a scar. But your work is never permanent. For as much as you're a part of human nature so is your arch enemy, Compassion. And I still believe, even after 39 years of witnessing human nature, that an act of Compassion can fling any act of yours into oblivion. I'm proving this to be true. The everyday kindnesses of friends, family and that stranger in the supermarket are already working to erase his affect on me. Already my heart is lighter. Your work is being undone, Cruelty. I have a theory that if I were to compile a list of all the instances of you in the history of the human race, from lions eating Christians to imperialism to Hitler, and compare it to a list of all the instances of Compassion, from separation of church and state to the WWI Christmas truce to Gandhi, that the scales would tip, ever so slightly, in favour of good. So, in the end you don't win, Cruelty. Any feelings of triumph you may experience will only ever be fleeting. Compassion will defeat you every time. And so, until we meet again, Cruelty. For unfortunately, I know that we will.
Sincerely,
PC

Dear Evolution,

My friend, we need to talk. I don't know if you're going through something in your personal life or if you're hitting the bottle too hard, but your work is suffering. What happened Evolution? For so long you were the epitome of ambition. From caveman to Albert Einstein your work was a thing of beauty. But even then things were starting to slip. It showed in little ways, like wisdom teeth and foreskin. People have been forced to yank out and cut off these unnecessary parts for generations. And speaking of inefficiency, most ladies are wearing clothes now and no longer living in caves, so body hair isn't required. Do you know how much waxing costs, not to mention hurts? Help a girl out Evolution!
But where you've really dropped the ball, where you've really let everybody down, is the progression of the human mind. It was all going so well. And then...the Kardashians. The Real Housewives. The Tea Party. That Wild Rose debacle. Jesus, Evolution. We're supposed to be getting smarter, not dumber! Glenn Beck? Sarah Palin? While you've been holed up with god knows who, doing god knows what, human civilization has become a disaster of moronic proportions. So let's get you the help you need so you can get back to work. We need you, Evolution. Now more than ever. You don't want Rush Limbaugh to be your legacy, do you? Because we both know you can do so much better than that.
Sincerely,
PC

Dear Edna St Vincent Millay,

You are one of the few poets I love to read. I am not particularly fond of most poetry. In school it always seemed like a contest: "Who can grasp the meaning of all these muddled words first? You will win a prize...acknowledged intellect!" Stanza after stanza of convoluted meaning. I always wanted to yell at the page "Just say what you bloody mean already!" But your poetry is direct, blunt and piercing. Achingly beautiful in its simplicity. Your words have meant different things to me throughout the years. For example, this has had different layers of meaning for me, depending on the man of the moment weighing heavily on my heart:

I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year,
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest you with my favourite vow.

But this has always been the same - always the same cry to live life fully:

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light!

The life you lived was an inspiration and a cautionary tale. You were, on the one hand, a trailblazer, on the other, yet another divinely talented artist who did a bunch of interesting things before she died too young. But your words live on, making generation after generation think and feel. It is like achieving immortality, to command a person's emotions from beyond the grave. For a writer, I can imagine no greater thing. Thank you for making me feel.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Newfoundland and Labrador,

Your tourism commercials are brilliant. Each one more breathtaking than the last. It's so impressive. Who wouldn't want to rush to your shores and experience paradise after viewing one of those ads? But I'll tell you this, Newfoundland and Labrador. When I finally step onto your glorious Rock, if I don't spot a cherubic child frolicking dangerously close to the water's edge, or if I'm not immediately struck by colours so heartbreakingly beautiful my faith in a higher power is restored, I'm going to be pissed.

Sincerely,
PC

Dear Christopher Hitchens,

I've been putting off writing this letter. The one in which I must say goodbye. I really believed you'd beat the demon cancer. Thought you'd show them all. But in the end you were human. Would never have guessed it by your writing. Your wizardry with the English language continually left me spellbound. I may not have agreed with every single thing you said but I loved the way you said it. Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for making me want to be better. To be smarter and more courageous. We have your wonderfully majestic and brutal words to remember you by. What more could we ask for?

Sincerely,
PC