From The Desk Of John Graves Simcoe

Good people of Upper Canada,

Recently, when Googling myself, I came upon the fact that the first Monday in August is a holiday named for me. What a wonderful honour, I thought, but certainly no surprise. After all, I was your first Lieutenant-Governor (and you always remember your first). Take that, Lord Dorchester. When’s your day?

Although a midsummer holiday was declared in 1869, it took until 1968 for Toronto city council to declare the day “Simcoe Day.” That’s 99 years, if you’re counting. And this after I made Toronto the capital of Upper Canada and was the first to try and convince tourists it was a World Class City. Toronto the Good can kiss my lily British ass.

I can only deduce that my public has fallen out of love with me. Simcoe Day is a mere municipal holiday, not even a provincially designated holiday, and as such it is up to local councils to set the rules. That’s why, on the one day a year set aside to honour me, your first L-G, the man who made your province what it is today, you can still go to the beer store or the mall. That’s right, the Beer Stores are open on Simcoe Day. The sun has truly set on the British Empire.

I fear you may view my complaints as mere desperation for glory lost. Perhaps, but screw you. I hope you enjoy your “Civic” holiday, especially if you happen to spend it at a cottage on Lake Simcoe. What, hasn’t anyone named a lake after you? Pity, that.

And for the record, on Simcoe Day, I do not pop out of a hole, see my shadow and declare six more weeks of summer. I can’t even begin to explain what is wrong with that.

I remain, your humble and obedient servant,

J.G. Simcoe
Lieutenant-General