Let's Put Working Men into Politics

A week from today there will be a provincial election in British Columbia. Gordon Campbell and his minions will likely roll into their third consecutive term as BC's governing party. There is no middle ground when it comes to the government there. In BC, as you may know, you are either right or left – or as a certain columnist may quip, you are either right or wrong.

Let me re-state the above: You are either balanced and steady or you are NDP.

I won't waste your time or my space with my rant about BC's turbulent politics over the past forty years. My awareness of BC politics began with a successful hardware store owner from Kelowna, a certain W. A. C. Bennett, back in the 60's. He was the leader of a party that no longer exists in any viable form, namely, the Social Credit Party.

Today's "small-l" Liberal party in British Columbia is really a reincarnation of anything right of center, from conservative Liberals and liberal Conservatives (please note appropriate use of adjectives), and a smattering of former Socreds (clipped version of the words Social Credit). Alberta had the latter party at its helm for decades, but only earlier in the last century.

When Campbell came to power in his first term, he had inherited a province that had had been bullied for ten years by the New Democratic Party. The NDP, as I have stated before, are great as the opposition, but should never be allowed to run – or is it ruin? - a province.

The province was in shambles in every possible way. One of the most consistent 'have' provinces for decades had plummeted to a 'have-not' status, just barely above Newfoundland. Campbell introduced many draconian measures to restore BC back to its proper place - many that seemed very unreasonable and cruel at the time by conservatives, including your faithful scribe.

Years later, we have come to see that his drastic moves have paid off in a huge way. He has since backed off, toned down, and become more accommodating in his relationship with First Nations, environmentalists, and others who are not normally in concert with the right wing. Every sane-thinking political leader should be monitoring next week's election, and with good reason: Mr. Campbell is doing many things good for his province, things that would benefit each and every province and territory of our great country.

If I had any advice for Mr. Campbell – which I do – and if he would just phone me – which he won't – I would tell him one thing: Place as many mothers in your cabinet as possible. (I may have to shout the rest of the column to those of you that have keeled over at the outrageousness of that statement.)

Well, of course, I am teasing a little bit, but work with me on this one, people. Who would make a better Minister of Health than a mother who has nursed every one of her kids through broken arms, bloody noses, and sleepless nights? Who would make a better Minister of Education than a veteran homeschooling mother who has worked through math she doesn't understand and kids who don't want to learn – all on a budget that is smaller than a monthly food bill?

I could go on, only to add that Mr. Campbell would be wise to install working commoners – farmers, retailers, housewives, truckers, and all – as his cabinet ministers. Many cabinet posts are filled by lawyers; I suggest that the office of the Solicitor General would be good for a lawyer, but that may be it. (For the record, in the waning years of the Socreds, the Minister of Agriculture was – you guessed it – a farmer from Delta, BC. A very common sense move, indeed.)

Methinks one reason that the Bennett-led Socreds were so successful for so long was because Mr. Bennett ran a business long before he entered politics. As a result, he knew how to balance a budget, keep his "customers" happy, market his product, and keep in touch with his people.

So, Mr. Campbell, if you are reading this column, congratulations in advance on your victory next week. And if perchance you are looking for a fresh voice, say, in the ministry of Finance, I have a list of perfect candidates for you. They are called stay-at-home moms, or as I like the term, home managers; they are part of a home where there is a single income. If anyone knows anything of handling money responsibly, they do.

And tell them that the Minister of Wit sent you.

To My Wife, Happy Birthday

Today marks my first wife's birthday. I wanted to buy a cake to accommodate all the candles on it, but it was almost too big to come through the door. And once I did get all the candles lit, we had to call back-up to get the flames out. Sixty-five candles produce a lot of heat (and so does the number of candles I had on her cake).

You may wonder how we had stayed together for as long as we did. It just seemed that we had so many differences. After all, she was from the country, I was a city boy. She, the eldest of five girls, had no brothers, whereas I was the youngest of four sons, with no sisters. I was good looking and she - well, she recognized that. Marriage, then, became a steep, steep learning curve for both of us.

Like any marriage, we stuck at it through thick and thin, mostly my thick skull and my thin skin. It's not that I wanted to be pampered – perish the thought! - but someone should have told me that "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" was not a pre-marriage manual. It's a wonder she stuck with me as long as she did.

So much changed when the first child came. And the next one, and then number three. After that, who was counting? My personal demands didn't change; my daily routine pretty well stayed the same. But for my first wife, well, let's just say she took this parenting – and motherhood, in particular – very, very seriously.

Let's see: There was a change in priorities, a change in schedule, a change in vocabulary, a change in perspective. Even the diapers had to be changed. She went to bed tired, slept tired, woke up tired, then slaved tired all day. The one and only time I came home and said, "What did you do all day?" was the last time I ever asked that question.

I should clarify: I can still see out of one of my eyes.

But the years marched on, and no matter how much we tried to avoid it, we celebrated her birthday on a annual basis. (Technically, of course, it's not her birthday each year; there is only one birth day per person, per life. It's actually the anniversary of her birthday.) I suggested we celebrate the anniversary of her birth day every second year, thus saving time and money (to say nothing of candles and phone calls to the local fire department). I did that once, but it was not well received – to put it mildly.

I should clarify: I still have hearing out of my left ear.

I was going to phone my friend Russ at the Rolling Pin to bake a cake for her, but I was afraid he would run out of flour. I told that to my first wife and she didn't exactly laugh at my version of humour, to put it mildly. Or, as I told my neighbour later, "No, sir, I actually do enjoy sleeping out here in the doghouse."

So my first wife's birthday is today. I'm sure she is out there somewhere, reading this column, perhaps even now as you read it. And when I say somewhere, I mean at her desk downstairs, or maybe she is relaxing on the couch for a few brief moments.

You get it now, don't you? My first wife is still my only wife, my present wife, the devoted mother to my nine children.

So, happy birthday, Gwynne. I'm doing this in my column because I couldn't find a card that could say it quite this way.

A Tribute to My Dad

Today (April 21) marks a sad anniversary for me: Seventeen years ago, in the early hours of the morning, my father passed away. He had been a healthy person all his life, but one of the greatest curses of the modern world -- colon cancer -- took him indirectly. (He survived the procedure, but his heart couldn't handle the stress.)

Next week, he would have turned 93 years young. I can't imagine having a father that old! But, then again, he probably couldn't imagine having a sixty-three-year-old son. (That, people, would be my eldest brother.)

My dad was raised in the days when life issues were pretty well black and white. You know, the stuff that made this country great, a generation ago – bedrock institutions like marriage, employment, faith, law and order, and education. As a young man from Vancouver, he fell in love with a girl from Edmonton. He married her (my mother, of course) and remained faithful to her till the day he died. (Would that make me part Oiler and part Canucks? I can't help it if it's in my genes.)

He was one of those rare birds that had a healthy balance between his family, work, and faith. Okay, I fib: He probably spent more time with the church and less time with the family than he should have, but I didn't know any better back then. Actually, the lines between church and home were blurred back then, because both institutions were so inter-connected.

My best recollections of Dad are tied to the two weeks we spent at Cultus Lake, a holiday hangout a couple of hours out of Vancouver. Our cabin was only one block (or five leaps) from the lake. Those were the carefree days of swimming, sleeping, eating - and that was just before lunch. My dad? You would never catch him in the water; but that didn't matter to me: I didn't need to be entertained. I had food, siblings, and a lake.

I am not really sure how we spent our time as kids, or even as a family, for that matter. You see, those were the days before cell phones, computers, DVDs, and most fast-food restaurant chains. (You might say that Burger King was just a prince back then.) I guess we made our own fun: There were trees to climb, books to read, and games to play; there were outdoor activities like Kick the Can and street hockey. We didn't need 'things' back in the 60's to keep us entertained; we just used our ordinary unbridled sense of initiative.

My parents were not rich people – at least in terms of money. They had their mortgage paid off in the early years of their marriage. That freed up money for other things, though they spent their income frugally and wisely. This meant, for example, that going out for a meal was a rare yet happy event. Unlike today's generation, it was an occasional event. Needless to say, when went out, we behaved well.

I have been thinking recently about my father's legacy. It wasn't name or fame or any other claim. You wouldn't know a thing about him (except for what you have just read). I think of legacy in terms of simple things - things like four sons who continue to honour his wife (our mother), because he modelled that behaviour. I think in terms of four sons who have made his faith their faith and have continued to practice what he preached. And I think in terms of four sons who have 126 years of married life among them (and still counting).

Would that be the legacy of everyone from that generation!

You may be reading this and swear that I am talking about your dad. Well, in an indirect way I probably am. Methinks we are losing that generation far too fast. Whatever they did, they had a steadying influence on our society, even though there was nothing splashy or flashy about them.

I know my dad had a lot of faults – he was a "son of Adam," after all – but at this stage of my life, I can't remember any of them. I just trust my own kids can rise up and say the same thing after I'm gone.

Would he want to come back? I doubt it. So much has deteriorated in our society in the past seventeen years. And he's a whole lot happier and healthier where he is. I'm already looking forward to the reunion.

An added bonus would if there is swimming, sleeping, and eating.

About Spring Break

"I would personally like to thank the person responsible for coming up with the idea of Spring Break." That quote - my own, natch - could have come from many sources other than a teacher. Mall retailers would concur; mall security would not. Children would agree; parents may not. School bus drivers are on the positive side; service stations weigh in on the negative.

A break, then, is like hunting: It all depends on perspective.

Let me play the devil's advocate and give you some reasons why I wonder if Spring Break (aka Easter Holidays, in some places) is actually in the best interests of all concerned. (Maybe you want to back up and read that again.)

Don't get me wrong: I am all for breaks, whether they are longer lunches, four-day weeks, shift work, banked hours, or even paid paternity for men. I know these options are actually in vogue with various companies, but I venture to say that they are less common, not more common. The real question is, Are they effective?

Reason Number One: With the loss of academic momentum, students find it harder to get going, mentally, after ten days of doing nothing. Case in point: Even you must admit that you find it hard to get going to work after a long weekend (like today, for some of you), and that's only after one extra day! And don't you feel you need another holiday to recover from your two-week holiday? I thought so.

Reason Number Two: More breaks do not necessarily translate into better effort. I am not advocating for a return to the abuses of sweatshops or to the cruelty of child labour; nor am I suggesting that it was easier back in the '40's and '50's when your dad and granddad slaved for ten hours a day, six days a week. (That was one reason why unions were invented.) But I would nod in the direction of a higher, better work ethic back then – in part, because of a higher, better attitude towards work.

The cavalier attitude towards studies (school) or employment (work) is, quite frankly, very scary. Modern technology has not contributed to better effort or greater productivity, and I am speaking strictly in the area of "quality control." Quality control shows up in the form or workmanship, work habits, and completed tasks, for starters. There are many contributing factors here, with a comfortable lifestyle being the principle culprit.

In other words, easier daily demands – whether at school or at work – are not necessarily good.

Reason Number Three: Breaks are necessary, but perhaps they could be better spaced. You have read it here before, that is, my (genuine) argument for year-round school. University students need to get out and earn money, to be sure, but for regular students, a few days here and a few days there would work in their favour. If it sounds like I have issues with a ten-week summer break, you're right.

If I had my 'druthers,' I'd re-start school by the first of August, with a week-long break by the first of October, and the next one at Christmas. That would be followed by something in March and early May. If the school schedule was based on semesters, I would likely work around them.

A careful reader may sense my apparent inconsistency. On one hand, I seem to be arguing against breaks, and on the other hand, allowing for more. Well, I 'm not inconsistent at all. A very careful reader would notice that I am simply suggesting we take a long look at how we plan and place our breaks - be it school or work. Well-planned and well-placed breaks are a blessing; not so well-planned or placed are a bane.

So here's to the rest of the week of Spring Break. Just be grateful that I am not the Minister of Education (yet). If I were, we would be discussing this column tomorrow...in class.