My heart is at the hundredth meridian

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 19/08/2016 (3368 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Whenever I hear the Tragically Hip, I think about my father. I find this odd, because my father was not a Tragically Hip fan — he couldn’t name one song — but their music takes me back to a special place.

My parents’ story is a great example of what makes Canada great. Newcomers who arrive on Canadian shores are capable of reaching tremendous heights, regardless of origin, colour, religion, culture, gender or sexual orientation.

In the late 1950s, on a summer night in Aachen, Germany, my father, the late Syed Waris Shere, pulled out a map of North America. His young fingers traced the vastness of a country called Canada and his eyes landed on a city he would call home for over 50 years. “Winnipeg sounds like a nice place,” he said to himself. “I’ll go there.”

Excitedly, he began his journey — a young Indian immigrant who had just finished studying engineering in Germany boarded a ship bound for a foreign land. He went alone, not knowing a soul at his destination.

At the time, Winnipeg was home to very few who shared his Indian heritage.

Quickly, the uncertainty of how to navigate this new, uncharted territory crept in. He wrestled with unnerving questions: how he would find work, pay rent, eat; essentially, how would he live? He secured a job as a professor, married my mother and raised three children. Along the way, he was able to pursue his personal passions as well.

In one of his proudest moments, he was a guest in Canada’s highest political office. His devotion to the field of education, along with his writings on Canada’s role in international affairs, caught the attention of the right people. Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau invited him to discuss his work at Parliament Hill in Ottawa.

Moreover, he took an active interest in the passions of others: he avidly supported my mother in pursuing her dreams as an artist. She became so successful she was nominated for the Women of Distinction award in Manitoba in 2004.

When I look at the photo of my father with the prime minister, it feels incredibly improbable. How could it be that this man, born in a small village in India, managed to find his way to this great country and manage to shake hands with the prime minister? How did my mom share a stage with the finest women in the province? This is the Canadian way. Canadians make it possible for newcomers to dream big and achieve their full potential.

Most importantly, Canadians of all backgrounds lift one another. That certainly held true for my parents; their best friends were, and still are, from Jewish, Hindu, Muslim and Catholic families.

To my parents, faith was not part of the equation in friendship; everyone was just Canadian. In their lowest moments, Canadians of all faiths and all ethnicities supported them. I’m always reminded of that. It makes me proud to be Canadian.

My father is no longer with us. We lost him to a sudden heart attack nearly two years ago, but he was a proud Canadian, and forever a Winnipegger. My father’s undying love for his country and his city still rings through my heart. And the rest of my family and I still carry this love for our country.

Though I currently live in New York City and recognize many parallels between the American Dream and the Canadian Dream, I have never let go of my roots. In a tall office building in midtown Manhattan, my American colleagues often end up discussing Winnipeg. Every hockey season, everyone is frequently reminded about my love for the Winnipeg Jets.

This brings me to the Tragically Hip, a group of five men from Kingston, Ont., that managed to capture the heart of a nation and touch the souls of millions. And Gord Downie: the voice of Canada. In my view, it is fair to say the Hip (love them or not) form an important part of the Canadian identity.

I remember my first Tragically Hip concert many years ago — oddly enough, it was on a chilly winter night in New York City. And while the venue was small, the concert was grand. I will never forget the feeling; a concert hall packed full of Canadians. Some waved flags, some wore Team Canada jerseys, some just sang along and many knew all the words. True to our identity, it was just one Canadian family — nothing else mattered.

Somehow Gord’s voice has had incredible staying power. It doesn’t matter whether you’re young or old; if you’re a Canadian then you like (or at the very least, respect) the Tragically Hip.

I guess everyone is drawn to them in his or her own way, but in my case, whenever I hear the Hip, I think about my father. Growing up in Winnipeg, I listened with great passion to their songs. I took in their sound and their lyrics, and they always made me feel Canadian.

To this day, when I hear greats like Fiddler’s Green, Bobcaygeon, Fifty Mission Cap, Fireworks, Courage or [insert your favourite Hip song here], I feel Canadian to the bones. I feel like a Winnipegger, and it feels good. With every chord Rob Baker strikes, my love for Canada is amplified.

On Aug. 20, my brother (flying in from San Francisco), three cousins (one from Vancouver and two others from Winnipeg) and I will travel to Kingston to watch the Tragically Hip take a final bow onstage.

It will be an emotional experience to hear Gord sing Wheat Kings for the final time. This song, above all others, hits our family hardest, given its ties to the prairies.

However, this show will also be a celebration — of Gord, the band and Canadians banding together, from coast to coast.

And for my brother, my cousins and me, a reminder: no matter where we are in the world, our hearts will always be at the hundredth meridian, where the great plains begin.

Feraz Shere was born and raised in Winnipeg and currently works as an investment banker in New York City.