I am sitting in a hotel bar room in Victoria listening to a jazz piano version of O Little Town of Bethlehem. The syncopation feels like an awkward fit. It makes me wonder if there is a jazz version of Handel's Messiah? I try to picture folks in the back row of the choir snapping their fingers and scatting Hallelujahs.
There are a couple of girls on the other side of the room discussing their plans to drink their way through the dessert coffee menu while they take selfies in front of the Christmas tree.
November is like that. Hardly content to be itself, with its early dark, blustery cloudscapes and wind-blown leaves scattered on sidewalks, it can't wait to be December.
And to think, only a few weeks ago, it felt like Canada had rediscovered compassion. Now, apparently, many of us want to bomb somebody, somewhere, who knows who and who knows where, back into the Stone Age. When in doubt, fall back on a failed strategy. It's so much easier than to have the courage to try something different.
For a generation we have fought terrorism as though it is a war that can only be won by pitting our guns and bombs against their guns and bombs. It's not working. We need a different approach. But alas, tonight, there are too many voices falling into the trap of over-reacting in exactly the way the terrorists want us to. By assuming this is some kind of war for civilization instead of the desperate thuggery of a tiny ragtag collection of homicidal maniacs.
By all means, find those who perpetrated the violence in Paris, and punish them according to law. And mourn not only for those who died in Paris, but also the children bombed by the gunship attack on the hospital in Afghanistan, and those bombed in Beirut, and the passengers on the Russian airplane. But maybe, instead of just mindlessly ramping up the violence, let's see if there's something we can do to bring it to an end.