Pity the Orphan

It is so dreadfully sad, is it not, when truly the disaffected among us, convinced of their disadvantage continually gripe and bitch about their lot in life. They have burdensome needs that no one else must grapple with. Life has been so unfair to them. They live in a continual state of want and insufficiency. Yet they have pride, and why shouldn't they?

They are imbued, despite their bitter aspect, with beauty (although grace continues to elude them) and culture (deriding everyone else's lack of same) and tradition (despite a bitter history not of their making) and a mellifluous language (effectively negating the need for another, universally-used one). The ill-will they bear toward others within their own family tries the patience of even the most family-dedicated member of the extended family.

Their continual carping and whining wears thin the cheerful acceptance that other family members and friends of the family send their way in hopes that eventually, this sad case will outgrow its whining adolescence and finally mature into a fully-functioning, accepting part of its own family. Hope springs eternal. Blandishments and sincere apologies from those whom they claim have wronged them in the past are shrugged aside. They will not be placated. The fire of their anger consumes them.

Do you recognize the entity behind the smouldering resentment and obdurate sense of righteous entitlement? Certainly you do. Quebec, the cranky petulant child of the Canadian family. The jealous, bad-tempered child who moans that someone else got a larger marshmallow and they demand equity. The larger marshmallow is accepted grudgingly, then a further demand: assymetrical benefits.

Yes, one big happy family. The parents of this family are determined that each of their beloved children will benefit equally from having been born into this family; their children are equally loved, equally valued, equally endowed albeit in their own inimitable ways. The diversity of character expressed in each of these children, their various concerns mark them as somewhat different one from another, but basically they have long imbibed identical values and despite occasional family quarrels they are comfortable together.

Oops. Have I yet mentioned Quebec? Oh yes, of course I have. The one who charges its parents that its siblings are better loved and cared for. You'll be sorry, the tempestuous pouting child warns darkly. You'll regret abandoning me, insisting that I be treated just like the others. I'm not! I'm not like them! I'm different, I'm my own self! Yes, yes, say the parents soothingly, we know, we know. We love you for what you are.

The child sulks and skulks away to a dark corner, dreaming about its parents' grief when they discover its lifeless body. I'll kill myself! That'll teach them! It will be all their fault. How could they do this to me? I'm precious, they tell me, yet they treat me just like all the others. How precious can I be to them then?

Anyway, the miserable child weeps, they can't be my real parents. I was given to the wrong parents. Someone else got my real parents. Someone else has taken my place as a royal princess. And that's simply intolerable! My real parents would love me, give me everything I want. I don't belong here!

Was I adopted? the child asks its parents. That would explain so much. No, the parents respond, eyeing their demanding child warily, you were not. You are our very own child, an integral part of this family. We love you, your brothers and sisters love and admire you. What more can we say to prove it to you?

Even if I'm not adopted, the child screams hysterically, I'm different, I'm special! So there!