Home Sweet Home

 

When garbage men are combing the dump, they are usually looking for junk someone has mistakenly thrown away; when police officers do the same, they are generally looking for junk someone threw away intentionally.

The latter was the image I saw last week, namely, police officers looking for a body -- the body of a newborn baby, no less. The mother had apparently killed her baby (and is under arrest as I write this), wrapped it in a garbage bag, then tossed it into the local dumpster. Even though this is not the first time it has happened, and I know it won't be the last, I was still horrified.

Then there was the recent news out of Vancouver. There's a new programme at a downtown hospital, whereby newborn babies can be delivered to the hospital (note the phrase "delivered to" and not "delivered at") by parents who can't care for them. I am trying to be as sensitive as possible on this topic, as I know there are a lot of extenuating circumstances.

At least the baby is presented alive in the above case, and has a fighting chance. Not much a day-old child can do when its first moments of life are also its last moments of life. With the Vancouver hospital option in mind, being placed in a loving, supportive home is the most likely outcome.

I really don't know which is worse: killing a baby right at birth or killing a baby months or even weeks before birth. I know we try not to use the word "killing," choosing rather to call it "abortion" or even "choice."

If you have read this column for any length, you would recognize that I am pro-living (my term). The conventional term is "pro-life," one that is often used in the abortion industry context, one that is the opposite viewpoint of someone who is pro-choice, or better stated, pro-death. As harsh as that sounds, that is the frequent result of the truly pro-choice decision.

Today's column, however, is a mere reminder that life must also be valued once birth has taken place. Every child has the right to be raised in a loving and nurturing home. If the mother, for any host of reasons, is unable to provide that, there are many, many families who can. The mother has not failed if she recognizes this possible shortcoming. I personally laud her for carrying the child full term.

Back to the hospital for a moment, please. My initial reaction was confusion. It struck me as similar to dropping one's laundry off, but without picking it up at the end of the day. My delayed reaction, however, was a little more positive, in that, at least the parent knows there is an option, and the newborn doesn't have to end up at the bottom of a dumpster.

Someone should get really creative with these two options, and even play a little with words. You see, what is wrong here is a word that has three syllables, starts with an "a" and ends with an "n." And what is right here has three syllables starts with an "a," and ends with an "n." The first, of course, is "abortion" and the second is "adoption."

I suggest some independent, non-government institution assume the role of connecting pregnant mothers with homes that are desperate for children. To be sure, some of them already exist, but they are being strangled (rather ironic choice of words) by bureaucratic red tape. These said institutions should have as much freedom as possible to bring mothers and families together – for the well-being of the child, the dreams of the eager parents, and even to fill the desperate economic void that millions of deaths has created.

You see, a happy home is where children belong, not a garbage dump.

The Nightly News

I suppose one of the advantages with not having a television (that would be me) is that I don't see how bad things are in the world. Or at least how bad they appear to be. The audio news (also known as a radio) or the cyber news (also known as Internet) is bad enough – especially if you can follow events without having to view them.

So, as I hear about the economic meltdown in Greece, the ethnic cleansing in Nigeria, the religious barbarianism in Iraq, the natural disasters in the southern States, Chile, China, and Haiti, as well as the social chaos in Thailand, I get very, very alarmed. I get alarmed because I am not certain that there is the usual spin-doctoring by the world media, as well as I think things may be as bad or worse elsewhere, but there aren't enough reporters and cameramen to go around.

To be sure, it wouldn't be news if it wasn't ugly. Death, blood, gore, and tragedy are the order of the day, and there is something strangely intriguing about the grisly drama of life that gets played out before our eyes in our living room each night.

We are curious creatures – and that would be a play on words: Curious, in the sense of strange, and curious, in the sense of inquisitive. You and I know a lot of people who fall into the former category, but this column is about those of us in the latter category.

For example, the person who slows down to gawk at a traffic accident is quite likely the same who will stop on the highway to observe a bear sow and her cubs. The same person who stands in front of someone's house as it burns to the ground is quite likely the same person who will park along the side of the road to watch some special airplane fly over.

Never before in the ages of news reporting have we been so aware of what's happening right across the world. News or otherwise, we are as informed as any generation, whether it is the mind-numbing reality shows, the sordid talk shows, or the variety of special interest features. You want to hunt a fugitive, re-model your house, or peer into the lives of the rich and famous (and bored) middle-age women of America, it's all there for your viewing.

At the end of the day, though, I am not clear whether we are better off than our parents (and grand-parents) relative to having instant access to world misery. Some could argue that the quick response to Haiti's grief, for example, was due in part to the media exposure. Possibly, but who knows for sure. I would suggest in this case that the news stories should be on-going, that the continuing grief in that country remains a newsworthy item. That's where I personally see its value.

If we are so consumed with using the media for our information and enlightenment, and not mere gratification, we should think in terms of exposing moral corruption, sexual exploitation, and deadly tribalism – starting right here in Canada. I believe that we really need to know what's going on in the world, then react positively to it by something about it.

Anything less is mere voyeurism. It makes us a nation of bystanders, when we should be participants (that is, getting involved to help).

I love watching the news as much as anyone, though I rarely have the opportunity to. When I am finished, however, I often feel helpless about other people's situations, or I feel depressed about what a crummy world we live in. The solution is not turning the news off or not having a television. The solution is having a pro-active newscasts that somehow allow viewers to get actively involved with plausible solutions.

That would indeed be newsworthy.

Celebrating Maturely

What in the world do Montreal Canadiens' fans, graduation celebrations, and my son's thirteenth birthday ever have in common? If you guessed the letter "a" or "e," you're close. If you think along the lines of moments of coming of age, you're really close. (I'd say you're hot, but I suppose that meaning is too dated.)

The answer (drum roll, please) is that they are cultural excuses for idiocy, buffoonery, and stupidity.

I say that in light of what happened in Montreal last week when Les Habitants took the Boston Teddy Bears out in seven games. It was a magnificent Canadian (Canadiens?) moment, that is, the last-standing Canadian team lined up for a further shot at Lord Stanley's cup, while the Bruins lined up for their first tee shot.

The actual issue was not the team: It was the wannabe fans, morons who hooted, tooted, and looted all night long. It was also the city officials, morons who apparently thought that this behaviour was expected, accepted, and essentially encouraged. After all, they said, this is a time for celebration.

It harks back to Calgary's infamous "Red Mile," where all sorts of debauchery (read: lewdness, indulgence, and excess) took place after each significant step in Calgary's similar quest for the Stanley Cup. Somehow, the fringe element of urban twits took over that section of the city and did things to each other, officers of the law, and the businesses of law-abiding citizens that would make the Thai government proud.

Now we are faced with the annual rite of passage called grad season. I think it is a wonderful time in a young person's life and should be celebrated. Where I personally take exception is that there is a certain mode of behaviour that is likewise expected, accepted, and essentially encouraged. That's why I laud those parents who rise up to offer an alternative, something known as dry grad. It is a wise and safe option.

The argument for the former could be the same as that used for the "joy" in Montreal, namely, it is a time for celebration. It happens once in a lifetime, it is a major accomplishment, and it suggests a shift to a more mature, adult approach to life. At this point, I'm with them.

It's the excessive carousing, drinking, and shenanigans that gets me. Not everyone, of course, and not for days on end, either, but just enough to worry me.

Then, there is the rite of passage where a child morphs into a teenager overnight. Again, even with many of the above excesses aside, there are certain expectations – ah, there's the word – that we present to the child-cum-teenager, and allow them to stoop to them. Any student of history would see how shortsighted this low bar of expectation is. Someday I would like to catalogue the long list of what so-called teenagers (a fairly recent term) accomplished long before they turned twenty.

Now those ages are marked by ages for driving, voting, and drinking.

My alarm is that we have such low expectations of celebrants – fans, grads, and kids – that we are continuing to allow misbehaviour at every level, then turn around and call it something like "freedom of expression" or the "pursuit of happiness." Again, I agree with that notion, but not when things gets out of control at a very low level.

Memo to son, Kyle: Now that you're on your way to manhood, I expect you to start acting like a man. It's the right thing to do.

Don't Trust a Movie Star

 

Recent studies revealed that there are certain professions or trades that are questionable in their moral bent. Personally, I have very little regard for statistics, though the list certainly intrigued me and posed few surprises. Whether they're accurate or not, I cannot say, but I can say I believe they made one glaring omission.

Movie stars, as in actors and actresses, should on the list – and probably right near the top.

Before I attempt to prove my accusation, let me give a token defense of that profession. I am often moved by exceptional acting, whether it is on the stage or on the screen. One thing I really like is when an actor, such as a Johnny Depp, can play a wide variety of roles, each one so different from the other. Tom Hanks and Tom Cruise are two others that I feel are outstanding actors.

Ironically, I suppose one of the greatest qualities of the movie industry is how they are able to make their viewers really believe that what they are doing is actually happening, that it is actually true. Oftentimes, I have felt that I was right there in that room, right at that crime scene; and it seemed that I was somehow watching the actual event through a little crack in the door.

I use the word "ironically" because sincerity, genuineness, and authenticity is conveyed but it isn't practiced. Let me explain: These characters are simply living out a role expected and demanded of them, reading lines and simply saying things they are supposed to. If it wasn't their "job," we would consider them liars and hypocrites in every way. And there is no way we could trust a liar or a hypocrite, is there?

Fake virtue, misleading commitment, and mere lip service are the hallmarks of this profession. And then I have to bring up the unfortunate issue of morality and ethics, something that goes far beyond physical intimacy and grey areas. To be sure, I am fairly naive as to ratings and content of probably 95% of anything out of Hollywood in the last few decades, but what little I know appalls me. And this is the stuff that's influencing our kids and students.

One rule of thumb I attempt to have in my home is the following: If I don't want some stranger speaking, drinking, or doing things on my living room couch, I don't want them doing it on a DVD in my living room television.

So, the question begs: Why would I trust a movie star? Answer: I don't. Of all the professions, for all the above reasons, an actor has to be one of the lowest on the employment food chain. There is a serious credibility issue here. That's why, when they start hawking things on commercials, take political stances, or stand up for this or that cause, I am prone disregard anything they say – even though there may be some legitimacy to it.

I am so conditioned to the fact that they are role-playing and reading their lines, that I find it impossible to believe them – even if they told me what time it is. But others I know are consumed by them - groupies, I think, we used to call them. They form fan clubs, follow their hero's every move, and essentially worship them.

Such adulation, of course, is not limited to movie stars. All sorts of celebrities create this sort of response. I have to admit that there are times I slip into that groove and place a higher value on a, say, Sean Connery or Steve Martin, than I should. Both guys, by the way, are phenomenal actors, but what are they like in the real world?

Maybe they and others should stick with acting. After all, if they were politicians or bankers, where would our country be?

Professional Athletes

 

For years, I had dreamed of becoming a professional athlete when I grew up.. There are so many things that I could do and places I could go, I couldn't think of any other job – if one could call it that – I would rather have. This column is truly based on wishful thinking, as you will see shortly.

And I should also qualify my definition of 'professional athlete': I suggest to you that the main five sports (hockey, football, baseball, soccer, and basketball) are under discussion here. What is not under discussion include the following: golf, tennis, lacrosse, and wrestling.

While I admit that there is some effort and ingenuity involved in those four, there is no way they can be in the same league, no pun intended, as the other five. I think that the individual prowess, the team skill, and the season length are only some of the many reasons for my rationale. You may disagree with my viewpoint, and in all sincerity, I don't care. (Well, actually I do, but I'm trying to sound assertive.)

Professional athletes do their thing for exorbitant salaries that most of us would do for free. They travel all over North America, stay in very good hotels, eat out all the time, accept the adulation of their frenzied fans, then justify their out-of-control wages by playing their sport for fifteen to twenty minutes per game.

Do I sound envious? Maybe a little bit, but I am not too seriously pining for their "jobs." The shelf life of a mediocre athlete is very, very short – part of the reason while their agents demand such disgustingly high contracts. Like a model who is popular until she pops her first wrinkle, the professional hockey player, for example, is only secure until some faster punk takes his place.

While I have a bias towards hockey – even though I have never played it myself – I know the rules of durability and disability also apply to the other big four. I bring up the example of hockey because of the current NHL play-offs, you know, those post-season games that the Vancouver Canucks are playing in (and the Calgary Flames aren't.)

I do have issues with professional sports, and in the long run I would not choose to be a career athlete, even if I had the ability. I think all that travelling with a bunch of guys for a big chunk of the year is not healthy for family life. I hear of the rampant indiscretions on the part of NBA players, for example. Repeat freedom from the necessary parameters of accountability are not good for any profession – including many other walks of life.

Another struggle I see is the energy of moment that is followed by the paralysis of the decades. That's quite a statement, so let me explain: For a few fleeting years, there is the rush of the challenges, crowds, and camaraderie, and then the player's services are no longer required. He is cut loose, and unless there is a game plan – this time, pun intended – for the post-sports years, there is potentially serious emotional, social, and financial problems.

As created beings, we are not wired to accept the praise and worship of fellow-humans. Someone much bigger than us holds that privilege. Ironically, in the cult of professional sports, with the star athletes playing the role of a messiah, such adoration is unspeakably unhealthy. Such worship messes with the minds and consciences of athletes, creating a sense of power, infallibility, and recklessness.

One of the sad ironies of this discussion revolves around the word "discipline." On the ice, court, or field, most of these guys are the epitome of discipline; but after hours, away from all necessary restraints, the opposite holds true. Drug abuse and promiscuity are but two examples of their undisciplined lives.

So perhaps professional sports isn't quite what is appears to be. Maybe, just maybe, I should stick with table tennis. The only "fault" there is a bad serve.