It's been a big year for us Canucks fans. In fact, big doesn't describe it. After '94, many of us didn't think we would ever see this day again. And the Canucks run and the Vancouver Spirit and Pride was reminiscent of the 2010 Olympics. And it would have been amazing. Winning the gold medal and then the Stanley Cup! And not one Vancouverite doubted that Lord Stanley's Cup would be finally making its way home...back to where it belonged. Such high hopes we had1 Such dreams we dreamt! And such pride and spirit we held for our much loved Vancouver.
And then the Bruins scored, not once, not twice, not thrice but four times. And our hearts sank. Our dreams for this year died and we wept. We wept individually and we wept as a city. I wept for my Grandfather. For you see, he was a Canuck and he would have LOVED to have been witness to this extraordinary year. But, my Grandfather passed away two years ago and was not here to witness our amazing, heart pounding and stopping, Vancouver rallying journey. So we wept. Some individually and all as a nation. I, wept both for my Grandfather, sad that he missed this year, thrilled that he was not here to witness the evil of some who claim to be our own.
And then the unthinkable happened. Riots, worse than '94 broke out. Now a day later, it has come to light that these riots were planned. It was not a by-product of a heartbroken city. It was a planned terrorist attack on our city, by it's very own! Many of us sat at home and watched the horror unfold before our eyes on our tv sets. Much like 9/11. Many of us were there. But ALL of us were horror stricken and outraged. Many innocents were beat, stabbed, bit and bruised. Our beloved fellow Vancouverites. All for the sick pleasure of some home grown terrorists.
This morning, our horror had not abated. But this morning the TRUE red and white spirit of our city came alive. For you see, today, we took and funnelled our anger in a movement to reclaim and restore our city and re-establishh our spirit. Today we came together, ignorant of the color of our skin and stood side by side to wipe clean the remnants of the terrorists. Today, rather than seeking revenge, we stood together and reclaimed what is ours.
And we have moved forces to capture those terrorists. Thanks to technology, many people took pictures. And many people posted statuses on their facebook. And again, we stood arm in arm and remained vigilant and forwarded all our pictures, and all the facebook statuses we could to the Vancouver Police Department so that we could do everything to ensure that justice is served.
Yesterday, we thought our dream had died. In my humble opinion, today our dream came alive. For you see, as much as I longed for and yearned for the Cup to come home, the Cup is not really a true symbol of who we are. The Cup is not the real dream. The real dream occurred today in Vancouver's streets among brooms, dust pans, rubber gloves and rags. Today the dream came to life as we as a city fought to protect, preserve, reclaim and restore what some thought they could steal from us. But you see, this dream cannot be stolen. For this dream involves mankind loving on and caring for one another. This dream is not about a Cup, it's about who we are as a people and what we stand for. This dream came alive. And this dream will always live on. It will always come alive when hope seems lowest. Because this dream is intangible and cannot be killed. This dream cannot die. And today, this dream LIVED!
