The good-natured fellows stood in a semicircle while I held up my lyrics, written largely on cardboard, and Peter, assisted by Jim Zolis, recorded the blend of their mostly untrained voices line by line to add to the last chorus.
A few months later Michael and I performed at the Hockey Alumni dinner in Toronto, and I sat beside Ron MacLean, who appeared to be idolized by all in attendance, including many famous players.
Serena Ryder, a very popular singer-songwriter and bouncy pigtailed brunette, generously came in with her manager, Sandy, and added her sonorous voice to “and music in the rocky mountains reaching for the sky.” I invited francophone Michel Bérubé, whom I had heard live in concert, to sing, “From the coves of Come By Chance to Quebec, la belle province,” and he and Divine were able to add some subtle, improvised “vamps,” which intensified the emotion at the end of the song.
The exceptional Etobicoke School of the Arts choir, directed by Trish Warnock, sang their hearts out for me in the choruses. They were a most fitting choice of choir, I thought, since Etobicoke had played such a significant role in my life. I chose three talented string players who had won the Canadian Music Competition to record the instrumental bridge — Alyssa Delbaere-Sawchuk played the viola solo, Emma Meinrenken the violin solo, and Danton Delbaere-Sawchuk the cello part.
• • •
Peter originally travelled to St. Catharines to work with Mark Lalama on the orchestral parts. Ron Korb had added his flute, and now with all the voices singing along with mine, and my classical guitar of course, we had a proudly patriotic song that I hoped school kids and choirs would learn for years to come.
Productions like “Canada, My Canada” never happen overnight, but I was glad that we had made the extra effort. I had even been lent the famous Six String Nation steel guitar, “Voyageur,” to add some zing to the opening riffs and choruses. The story of how this guitar was created from pieces of Canadiana — wood from Pierre Trudeau’s canoe paddle, from the deck of the Bluenose, and from Wayne Gretzky’s hockey stick, a moose antler used in a native ceremony up in Heron Bay on Lake Superior, bits of muskox, whale, and walrus, copper from roof of the Library of Parliament — is itself an epic tale, and there is a book about it, thanks to the passion of its creator, Jowi Taylor.
A year later, when “Canada, My Canada” was all but finished, I started to obsess about adding another voice to support my own in the opening line. Which singer had the right type of voice and attitude?
Nobody seemed right, apart from Lightfoot, but I suddenly realized that there was one perfect person I hadn’t yet considered: Chris Hadfield, the astronaut, a true Canadian hero, and a fine singer and guitarist. Chris had walked in space and excited millions of young people about the universe through his poetic tweets from the International Space Station, where he lived for almost six months. Chris had insisted upon taking his guitar with him into space and singing David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” live from the station.
Chris is an amazing scientist and pioneer, a man of whom we Canadians should feel very proud. It was only later upon reading his autobiography that I realized how much he and his wife and family had actually sacrificed for his career, and how challenging and nerve-wracking it had all been at times.
I sent a letter off to the Canadian Space Centre, not really expecting to hear back, but a few weeks later I received a “Hi Liona, this is Chris” telephone call. To my delight, he was familiar with my music, and in spite of his exhausting bookings he generously agreed to join me on the opening line as well as singing the last line of verse two. Juggling all our crazy schedules, Peter and I were able to record him in a studio in Sarnia using Skype. I discovered that Chris is not only a true hero, but also a real sweetheart!
How had I ever pulled off such a coup to have all these renowned singers contribute to my song, and gratis, too? I felt immensely honoured that they had all chosen to join me. Peter and I hugged each other when we heard the final blend of voices blasting from the big speakers at Zolis. We had somehow manifested my dream patriotic song. I felt proud that without any manager, grants, or loans, I had been able to create a patriotic song that I hoped Canadians could be proud of.
• • •
The fact that to this day I have not heard “Canada, My Canada” played once on the CBC, our national radio station, saddens me to no end, particularly because Universal had assured me that the station would be all over it the minute the song was sent to them. Does it make me cynical and disappointed? Yes, indeed, it does, and it makes me feel let down by the audience I hoped would celebrate such a song and the huge effort I personally invested to make it happen. Could it be that the intentional folky style, featuring my guitar, is no longer be hip enough for Canadian radio? Gordon Lightfoot, who no doubt influenced me when I wrote this song, told me he loved the whole The Return … to Canada with Love album. I hope he noticed how part of my chorus melody pays tribute to his own immortal “Canadian Railroad Trilogy.”
Despite my disappointment that radio stations appear to have practically ignored “Canada, My Canada,” I am extremely grateful to all the wonderful singers who contributed to it, and I hope that one day this song, my gift to my country, will not be forgotten. I am grateful to the thousands of people who have bought and downloaded the album, and who have enjoyed my performances, but I wonder if they have ever called a radio station to request it be played. I think we Canadians have a much more apathetic attitude than Americans, who love to celebrate their country. Stompin’ Tom, a much loved and authentic Canadian country performer, was so right to reprimand us all, as he believed fervently that Canada should sing her own praises and not feel apologetic about expressing our own brand of patriotism. He had even gone so far as to ship back his six Juno Awards as a protest against their habit of favouring American artists over Canadians, and often paying them ten times what they offered homegrown performers. I only learned too late that Tom was unwell, and I regret that I did not take time to track down the passionate Canadian who had given me my start in the recording business.
• • •
As December of 2013 rolled around, I once again returned to my tropical paradise of Palm Beach, and for the second time my sister and mother came to spend Christmas with me after a Caribbean cruise they had enjoyed together.
How many more Christmases would we be able to share? I wondered. Remembering the two that I had spent alone, I composed a wistful Enya-like song in waltz time, titled “Alone on Christmas Day,” and promptly recorded a demo to email Peter. Unfortunately, far too many people do spend Christmas Day alone and often not by choice, as had been my case. This particular song I dedicated to them.
The muse also inspired me to write a folky style song called “People Who Care for the Animals,” referencing several of my heroes who have championed animal welfare: Tippi Hedren, whom I had met years earlier at her Californian animal sanctuary, Shambala; Madeleine Pickens, who rescued thousands of wild mustangs; and Wayne Pacelle, who runs the Humane Society of the United States. If only we humans could be more compassionate to the needs of other species that we share the planet with. I have always believed that we should not exploit and abuse them the way we do for our own ends. I have such great respect and admiration for the tens of thousands of courageous people around the world who are tirelessly fighting to save and protect animals, educating and enlightening humanity and changing laws. It is an overwhelming and often thankless task, and this song is dedicated to all of them.
I refined and edited the long poem I had written called “The Cat Who Played Guitar,” and hoped I could one day find the right children’s book publisher to bring the story to life. Back in Los Angeles I had spent days producing an unbelievably realistic cover image of Muffin sitting on a tiny Mexican chair holding in his paws a miniature guitar from Sevilla. In the photo my very cooperative kitty is wearing the diamond-buttoned black velvet tuxedo that my dress designer, Gilles Savard, had created
