I never thought this would happen to me, but I’ve become one of those “disaffected youth voters” you hear so much about.

I admit, approaching 40 years of age at a fast clip as I am, that calling myself a “youth voter” is a bit brazen. But I’m not ready to hop over the fence from the dungarees to the suits just yet, so humour me.

It all started last week when Steve Sutherland, from CBC Radio in Halifax, called to see if I’d be a good person to have on some sort of “election issues panel.” I told him that I wasn’t a good person, and that, in fact, I had no thoughts whatsoever about federal issues. I didn’t actually realize that this was true until I said it. But it is.

While I might feel close to my municipal and provincial politicians (how can I help but, given the small size of their districts and the fact that I know both of them, and they’re actually indirectly related to each other by marriage), Canadian federal politics exists for me on some disconnected ethereal plane that bears more in common with Survivor and The Apprentice than it does with “real things that affect my life.”

Indeed I’ve found myself relatively unaffected by the whole sponsorship scandal thing, mostly because I simply assumed that sort of thing happens all the time. There’s little difference, in my books, between crooked cash transactions and, say, the Solicitor General putting an Addictions Research Centre in his riding. Sure, one is perhaps criminal while the other is simply “working for the people of Cardigan.” But come on…

I don’t think any of this means that the people involved in federal politics are evil — indeed I happen to think my local MP, Liberal Shawn Murphy, is a stand up guy. I just think that politics practiced at such an abstract level is both liable to corrupt the sensibilities of just about anyone, and so far removed from real people’s lives as to be essentially irrelevant to the individual.

Yes, I know that federal politics can make Important Changes for Canadians. It’s just not clear to me how I’m actually a participant in this process in any real way.

And so I’m left to simply treat my franchise as I would the purchase of a car or a brand of toilet paper. And those running for office seem content to service me on this level: Stephen Harper is an evil worm, Paul Martin is corrupt, Jack Layton is a spendthrift, Gilles Duceppe wants to pull apart the country. None of which seems substantive, real, nor particularly interesting.

I think I might just sit this one out.

This post has been brewing in my mind for two weeks. Truth be told I considered not writing it for fear that my revelation of my own stupidity might render me unemployable.

But I must come clean, if only because sharing my own story might help others: for 39 years I have been under the impression that toasters know how toasted the toast is.

For example: I dial the “darkness” dial up to 3, put in a slice, and wait. The toast pops up, and it doesn’t look dark enough, so I dial up to level 4, put the toast back in, and assume that the toaster is smart enough to take the darkness from level 3 to level 4.

In other words, I simply assumed that (somehow — I really have no idea how) the toaster could “read” the toast, judge how “toasted” it was, and react accordingly.

I have really, honestly, wholeheartedly believed this since the day I was born.

It turns out that I have been wrong.

Toasters have timers in them. The “darkness dial” simply sets the length of time the toast stays toasting: the higher up the dial, the longer amount of toasting time.

While this might seem like minor-league revelation — I didn’t see Mary’s face in bowl of corn flakes or anything — my world has been rocked. Mostly because I now have to re-examine my assumptions about every other piece of technology I use on a daily basis. Not such a bad idea, actually. But it does put my relationship with the physical world in a bit of flux.

If the last federal election here in Canada was the dawn of the “blog campaign,” this one brings podcasting into the mix. So far there are signs of two parties at it:

• Conservative
• Liberal

Only the Conservatives actually have podcasts so far. And calling them “podcasts” is perhaps correct only in the strictest “using RSS to deliver audio” meaning of the word, as the content appears to be “Stephen Harper giving speeches.”

No sign yet of Greencasting or NDPcasting.

By the way, where is Shawn Murphy’s campaign website? It has been 404 all week, displaying “No pages are found on the rootlevel!” Surely someone can figure out how to make it say at least “coming soon.”

For almost 10 years now I’ve been working as a volunteer with the L.M. Montgomery Land Trust, a non-profit charitable organization working to preserve the scenic, agricultural coastal lands between French River and Sea View, Prince Edward Island.

Over those 10 years, the pressure to develop these lands has intensified dramatically — land that once sold for $3000/acre for development is now demanding $15,000/acre or more. At the same time, the agricultural economy has suffered several bad years, and so the economic pressure on local farmers in the area to sell land is tremendous.

The L.M. Montgomery Land Trust works with local land owners to find ways to keep non-developed agricultural land free from development. We do this using a combination of seeking donation of “development rights” for land (or outright donation of land, which we then resell, minus development rights) and purchase of development rights. We’ve had three successful transactions to date:

• 75 acres of land near Cape Tryon was preserved by purchasing land slated for cottage development from a U.S. developer and reselling the land, by tender, to a local farmer with a restrictive non-development covenant attached.
• 38 acres of land at Cousins Shore was donated to the Land Trust by a developer; the land was then resold to a local farmer with a restrictive non-development covenant attached.
• The development rights for 17 acres of farmland at Park Corner were purchased from a local farmer. The farmer continues to own and farm the land, but is restricted in perpetuity from developing the land by a restrictive non-development covenant.

Currently the Trust is working on several fronts: the land surrounding the Cape Tryon lighthouse is under imminent threat from development, and we’re working on several fronts to try and keep the land in agricultural use. And we’re working with several sympathetic cottage owners who own large parcels of agricultural land, seeking donation of the development rights.

The Land Trust website has more information about who we are and what we do. In particular, this presentation to Cabinet will give you a good overview of the organization.

And, starting today, you can make donations online to the L.M. Montgomery Land Trust. If you’re concerned about the loss of Prince Edward Island’s agricultural lands to development, and want to help the Land Trust’s work, I encourage you to make a donation.

Just a reminder to PEI-based readers: if you pay your Provincial Property Tax in installments, your latest installment is due today (November 30, 2005).

From the same folks who brought you LoudHush comes the technology driving Stampileonline.ro, a very sharp online rubber stamp ordering website based in Romania.

It being November 30, it’s again time to remind ourselves of the time Oscar Wilde came to Charlottetown.

It’s also a good time to remember that our friend Catherine Hennessey has been blogging longer than most — her first post was back in the winter of 2000. She’s been “on hiatus” too long (2 years!).

Johnny and I are off to Elections PEI to set up for the Plebiscite. Watch the fruits of our labours, starting at 7:00 p.m. AST, at results.electionspei.ca.

In addition to the RSS feed for the Plebiscite on Mixed Member Proportional Representation that I announced yesterday, there’s now also a podcast feed. This experimental feed contains a brief computer-generated audio update of the current unofficial province-wide percentages for “no” and “yes,” and will be updated every time one of the 90 polls reports results.

Regular readers of this space may have inferred that I am not on Jesus’ Christmas card list. As such, the yearly coming around of the “holiday season” is always tinged with a vague mist of “okay, I’ll join in, but you know this is insane, don’t you?”

The sting of the vague mist is lessened considerably given the “peace, love, goodwill towards man” upside of the holidays. And the presents. And the delightful lights. And the sparkle of wonder in children’s eyes. Etc.

So, in other words, it’s usually just best to fall in line and get with the Christmas program rather than bringing up the whole “insane” thing.

But this year, being Oliver’s kindergarten year, brings new challenges with it, and at this time of year one of the challenges is the Annual Christmas Play.

To the kindergarten’s credit, they do ask parents for permission for their child to participate, and they do warn that the play is pretty well 100% “The Christmas Story,” with angels, sheep, unpregnant women, etc. So if our convictions were steelier, and we were willing to pay no heed to Oliver’s wishes, we’d have him sit out the play. It’s a good story and all, but it’s just not our story.

But our convictions are not steely, and Catherine and I have both been child outcasts enough to know that being branded as “the weird kid who doesn’t love Jesus like we do” at age five isn’t exactly the path to getting a good prom date.

And Oliver loves singing and acting. So he’s in. As a shepherd. Tending his flock by night. Getting the glad tidings of great joy. Etc.

And we’ll go to the play, and sit happily and enthusiastically in the audience. We’ll laugh in all the right places, and cry in all the right places, and we’ll probably even sing out loud and sing out strong when called upon.

So I’m not complaining.

But it does have me thinking about the best way to match up public education and religious traditions.

The 2001 Statistics Canada Population By Religion data indicates that Prince Edward Island has 93% of the population, or 123,795 people, self-identifying as some sort of Christian variant, 625 people identifying as another religion (Hindu, Jewish, “eastern religions,” Buddhist, or Muslim) and 8,950 people (or about 7% of the population) marking themselves as having “no religious affiliation.”

Looking specifically at the City of Charlottetown, the numbers are about the same: 90% Christian, 1% “other” and 8% “none.” (By comparison, there are some Island communities, like Tignish and Wellington, with 100% Christian sign-on).

So you’ll get no argument from me that we live in a “predominantly Christian” place. It’s not everybody, but it’s pretty close.

(Which makes you wonder when it’s the 90% of my neighbours who are insane or maybe just me).

That aside, I’m not one to suggest that we emasculate Christian holidays in the name of equality. I don’t see the point of “Happy Holidays” over “Merry Christmas.” I don’t mind that there are Christmas songs blaring from speakers at City Hall throughout the season. Close down the city for a Saturday afternoon for a Christmas parade: I’m in. Think what you will about Christian birth festivals, they’re central to the Canadian winter, and to pretend otherwise — or worse to try and “universalize” them, does nobody any good.

At the same time, I’m mindful of that whole “freedom of conscience and religion” part of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Of course there’s also the oft-overlooked “Canada is founded upon principles that recognize the supremacy of God” part of the Charter too. Which kind of sets up a “we all agree God is charge, but we also agree that we’re all free to disagree” system.

So, back to the shepherds tending their flocks: I’m wondering if teaching the stories of the predominant religion, even with an opt-out clause, is properly living up to the “freedom of conscience and religion” agreement.

I’m wondering if, given the predominance of Christian mythology for the month, it shouldn’t be at least part of the role of public education to support and encourage tolerance, to open childrens’ eyes to the notion that the entire world isn’t like them. That it’s okay to think differently. To believe something else. Or not believe at all. Surely equipping kids with dissonance management skills is not only good for breeding religious tolerance, but might also come in handy later in life.

Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea how to do this in a way that doesn’t offend Christian parents, doesn’t stigmatize non-Christian kids, and doesn’t suffer from the style of “multiculturalism” education that I received 30 years ago (wherein the net message was that “customs of other lands” are quaint and all, but that’s them, not us).

In many ways my personal task would be made much easier if I was either virulently anti-Christian, or at least strongly [insert name of deity here]. Or if I truly thought that Christian practice was insane. As it is, I’m generally content to be a non-affiliated free agent living in harmony with, but out of spiritual step with, 9 out of 10 of my neighbours.

Jesus, it seems, has won.