An Open Letter to Prime Minister Trudeau’s mom – 2nd try


Wha’ happened?

You were supposed to call Justin and do your Mom thing on him and convince him to open the local border. Please tell me you didn’t go all Mommie Dearest on him, did you?

You did? Oh, Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. Everyone was getting so excited. Legions of Point Roberts women swiveled to the north in unison and shouted, “Yes! Send in the Big Gun!” while the guys just leaned back in their La-Z-Boys and let out one long, beer burp, “I always knew he was a momma’s boy.”

I was totally amazed by the number of personal stories that people told me after they read the letter. Most of them I can’t even repeat.

One of them I can, though. I hear that during the ’70s you were a frequent guest at parties in New Westminster where many of the guests were pilots and, as my informant put it, “stewardesses.” And all the booze came in little airline bottles.

Maggie – Look me in the eye. Were you an accessory after the fact of theft in the 3rd degree of liquor from everybody’s favorite airline, Air Canada? Because if even a drop passed through your lips into the beyond, you were. You did, didn’t you? I knew it, you little party animal!

Hot damn! That makes you a fugitive from justice. This is getting so exciting!

Can we get down to business?

The. Border. Still. Isn’t. Open.

Even though we had the governor, a congresswoman, two really smart state representatives and one county executive all here at the same time last Friday, the border still isn’t open.

What do you say? Are you ready to give it another shot? Tonight, pop on over to Justin’s just about the time he’ll be mixing his second drink of the night. Give him a brief but sincere apology about the last time. Then give him the pitch again about how almost all of us are vaccinated, yada, yada, yada.

Be sure to dial back the Joan Crawford/Mommie Dearest act.

Cause things are still desperate around here. Some days we wish we were the subject of Edvard Munch’s The Scream and we don’t care how long we’re stuck in the oil and the varnish, we just want to let it all out. All of it.

So, Maggie, show him who’s the real boss! Make him open that damn border.

Thanks, Mags.

Your friend and fellow alumnus,


P.S. Remember SFU’s motto – Nous Sommes Prêt. We Are Ready.

To get the hell out of here.


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