Foremost on my Mind: The WTS Store

 

Being the single income earner for my large family ever since the kids started coming 28 years ago, my family budget has often been stretched big time. Note I said nothing about being the single income worker: No one one slaves for the good of my family more than my wife. I'm sure many of you guys would say the same about your respective wives.

And if you don't, shame on you.

That being said, we have turned bargain hunting and quests for deals into a science. What with, garage sales, thrift stores, and any sign in any store that spells C-L-E-A-R-A-N-C-E, we have dressed and eaten most acceptably (my opinion only, of course) for these past thirty years.

One advantage with not having two incomes, ie., having extra money for extra clothes, is that we often have a revolving wardrobe. Hats and coats, shirts and pants, even shoes tend to be bought up and brought in one year, worn up then simply worn out the next. If someone else's clothes are the highlight of poor man's fashion, then we as a family are as dapper as they come.

Oh, I forgot about the other place I "shop." It is actually a lot cheaper than the cheapest thrift store, though clothes are impossible to find there. In today's political parlance, it is called a waste transfer station (WTS); back in the days when gas was $1.00 a gallon (note: gallon), it had a another name.

It was called a "dump," as in D-U-M-P, a place where people would dump their used and useless possessions.

Quite frankly, I wish I was so rich that I could dump what gets dumped in the dump. I have shocked, thrilled, and maybe even ticked off some of my equally-frugally friends with the "clearance" items that I have found at the local WTS in recent months.

As I write this witty prose in the brave solitude of my family office, my wife—the hard-working, constantly serving one I wrote about—is sitting at another desk in a different corner on a very nice office chair. In fact, it is almost as nice as the one I'm sitting in, the same one that retails for about $200 from Staples--except hers was free. All we had to do was put a few wheels on for a mere $25.

In a few minutes she will be going upstairs to put some of the kids to bed; she'll be sitting on a rocker-recliner that I also found at the WTS store. I saw a the identical chair in a recent Sears catalogue, retailing for pennies just under $400.

I don't feel richer by getting these items, but I certainly feel wiser. I can't fathom—nor can the scavengers, er, people who were with me recently at the WTS store—how people can dump off lawnmowers, chairs, walkers, windows, desks, and bikes (just for starters). The waste, the careless waste, is actually quite revolting. There must be a better way to dispose of the odd toy or piece of furniture that seems no longer useful. Maybe a better equipped clearinghouse, where these things could be re-furbished and given to our less fortunate friends.

It sends all the wrong signals about us as a society: One, it shows we do not value things when they no longer work as they once did; and two, it shows the sheer shallowness of a part of the culture that no longer bothers to take the initiative to try to repair or fix things that are broke. I think there's a metaphor for marriage here, people, but that is, as I have said before, fodder for another column.

"One man's trash is another man's treasure" is an axiom for garage sales. Add "dumps" to that application, please. What one person or family de-values or discards, another seizes as a priceless (or at least useful) treasure.

I still think there's a place for garage sales, thrift stores, even a clearance department at a Walmart these days. Because I constantly fight the temptation to bring home some quaint gift from the WTS store for a family member, I need to keep all my options open. I draw the line when it comes to birthday or anniversary presents.

After all, how could I take it back? The WTS Service Counter, I hear, a hole.

Foremost on my Mind: Oh Canada

 

I'm not quite sure if I have ever lived in a time when virtually every nation on our poor planet is in some sort of serious trouble—be it economical, theological, cultural, or even natural. From Greece and Portugal in Europe, to seemingly every nation in Africa; from the Middle East to the Far East; and these are only the areas we hear about on CNN.

Even the bedrock of western civilization, the USA, is in deep financial, moral, and cultural trouble. And it's not only the leadership that's to blame: The people who make up that fine nation need to assume some responsibility. It's too easy to blame the government for everything.

If I believe half the information I have regarding America's money woes, I fear greatly for the future of our wonderful neighbours to the south of us. And, by extension, the rest of the Western nations. There are so many inter-connected strands of economical strategy, that when a strong nation fails, others could potentially go down with it.

And then there's Canada, my home and native land. I say this in view of Canada Day (also once known as Dominion Day) this Friday. Celebrating the birth of someone special is very important; celebrating the birth of a nation is likewise very special.

So, happy 144^th birthday, Canada; you don't look a day over 100!

No matter how boring your History class was in public or private school, Canada has a very, very interesting past. Most of my historical gaps have been filled in by reading the likes of Pierre Berton and Ted Byfield. So as a warning, please don't let school get in the way of your education.

It is really hard to define what is distinct about Canadian culture these days. Back in the Dark Ages, it was easier to generalize. There are still vestiges of the old stereotypes, such as the prairies, hockey, maple syrup, the maple leaf, toques, our French and British heritage, and so forth. When I experience these words, I sense a genuine Canadianesque feeling in my bones. (It may not be a word, but it is certainly an emotion).

Over the years I have seen some serious revisionism regarding Canada's past, mostly through Social Studies textbooks. This is something all parents and school administrators should be wary of. In fact, in a moment of exasperation, I had indicated to my principal that I had no interest in teaching any revisionist form of Canadian history. Fortunately, others ended up teaching that subject, and I stayed with my favourites, namely, Bible and Grammar.

My point is simple: If we don't know where we have come from, how can we know where we are going. I know that's not original with me, but it still rings true. In terms of Canadian nationalism, we need to ask ourselves some questions. Here are some samplers:

Is the British parliamentary system the most effective for a country as widespread as ours? Is there a purpose, even an advantage, to a bi-lingualism? Did our forefathers handle the First Nations assimilation in the best possible way? Would the nation as a whole be stronger or weaker if we broke into three or four distinctive economic units? There are many more questions, and each one could not be thoroughly developed in a column like this. And you may be quite shocked at my personal take on these issues. But in the meantime, I leave these questions for the students and the politicians.

We do have a wonderful country. If you're not clear on that point, go live in the Congo for half a year, or try holidaying in East Timor.

I thought I would finish with what appears to be a poem. Actually, you know it as a song, with the first stanza getting sung at every major public event; this is simply the second stanza. Just sing it to the tune of "O Canada." You probably never learned this your high school history course.

Almighty Love, by Thy mysterious power,

In wisdom guide, with faith and freedom dow'r;

Be ours a nation evermore

That no oppression blights,

Where justice rules from shore to shore,

From lakes to northern lights.

May love alone for wrong atone;

Lord of the lands make Canada Thine own!

Lord of the lands, make Canada Thine own!

Foremost on my Mind: Mighty Canucks Have Struck Out

 

If you're as old as I think you are, you will recall the famous poem (at least in my mind), "Casey at the Bat." In it, you will remember, there was the huge build up to this so-called all-star slugger (Casey, of course) who is to save the game with his hitting prowess. Stanza after stanza, the tension is building, to the point that, when he comes to the plate at the end of the poem/game, it is his destiny to bring the base runners home and win the championship.

Well, to save you the tension of where I'm going with this (if you don't know already), Casey ends up striking out, and the other team wins. I'll never forget the last line, even though it has been probably forty-five years since I read it "...mighty Casey has struck out."

Fast forward to June 2011. A Casey of another sort has struck out. As I sat grimly in front of someone else's television the other day, eating fresh pizza from Costco, watching a bunch of millionaires play hockey on channel 911, I saw the Vancouver Canucks implode before my very eyes.

There is no doubt that the tougher, hungrier team won, and I say kudos to the Boston Bruins. An ugly, dirty, and cheap team, to be sure, but they did win the Stanley Cup mostly on the merit of grit and tenacity.

I don't know if my heartburn was from bad pizza or bad hockey, but I'm leaning towards the latter.

Guys who are paid to do what I am trying to do here will be filling column after broadcast, broadcast after column, with the gist of the following questions: What went wrong with the Vancouver Canucks? and, How could they lose what appeared to be theirs?

Well, the simple answer is that they didn't score enough goals at the right time. (Read that last line slowly again, if you want to.) You see, in order to win in any sport, you need to score more points than your opposition—even if it is one more goal, one more basket, one more touchdown. It works every time. No matter what the pundits say over the next few weeks, you will recall reading this simple yet cutting-edge answer here first.

It's part of most solutions in life, you know. You want to be the head of the class? Have the highest marks. You want your business to succeed? Make sure you make more money than you lose. You want to be the best runner? Make sure you finish ahead of whoever is in second place.

Sincerity, looks, tradition, rights, marketing, and whole host of other reasons do not factor in when finishing out on top. And in the context of this column, the Canucks should have won the Cup hands down; they will win so many other awards by the end of this week, possibly more than any other team in history. It's just that the Stanley Cup is the biggest mug of all, the most prestigious award in hockey. It is the Holy Grail, if you will, and all the others (combined) are mere styrofoam imitations. First place is fine, second place is sour (Do I sound like Ogden Nash, or what?)

Funny, as passionate as I am about the game in general, and that team in particular, my life was absolutely no different the day after the Canucks officially crashed and burned. I still had to milk the cow, cut the grass, pay my bills, and deal with my kids. Even as I sat there, glued to the set, I reminded myself that I'm watching guys who earn more money in two games than I earn in one year--by a huge margin, I'll have you know.

So what should the Canucks do for next year? I cannot say for sure, but I have a couple of suggestions: One, get tougher. They got pushed around far too much. Having Glass, Torres, Rome, and Lapierre, is a good start. Two, swing a blockbuster deal that involves Luongo and Bieksa (try the Philadelphia Flyers); both players are marketable, (usually) very good, but far too inconsistent. (On that basis, get a veteran goaltender who can then groom Schneider, the goalie of the future.)

I'm thinking Erhoff and Ballard (maybe even Salo) are gone, so they will have to look at replenishing their blueline big time, especially if there is that long-promised deal to get rid of Bieksa—something they were threatening to do back in October.

Just an idea, but maybe they should get some of the goons (note: they weren't fans) who were "protesting" out on Georgia Street after the game. Seems like they had more feistiness and spark than the players themselves did. Just give those morons a jersey and a stick, and tell them: "Go fetch the puck, Rover." It might work, it might not. But at least something might happen at the other end.

Anyways, hockey is over, at least for a couple of months. By the end of this week there will be some interesting drafting, some significant trades, and some unexpected retirements. The other blessing that comes with no more hockey is the players can start shaving and stop spitting.

And just to be safe, if they trade for someone, make sure he doesn't have the initials K.C.

Foremost on my Mind: Cell Phones

 

I am unaccustomed to tackling heavy issues in this column, at least not in consecutive weeks. And the past two issues have been, well, a little emotionally overweight, if you will. People glued to this column (hardy har har) know that I try to present a balance between something "hee-hee" and something heavy, something witty and something weighty.

If I didn't follow that sort of pattern—or at least attempt to—then week after week I would be prone to tackle such monster topics as some of the struggles in public and private education (note operative word, "some"), gender issues (once again), and the killing of defenseless humans, euphemistically known as "abortion."

Believe it not, as sincere as I would be about these touchy subjects, I think we'd all be weary of what would appear to be a usual weekly rant. And I think, between you and me, it would lose its effectiveness. So just a word of warning here: I will continue to present real socio-economic-spiritual issues here, when the need arises.

On the other hand, if I were pursuing lighter subjects consecutively, I would discuss the joy of the return of the "Manitoba Jets" (my biased suggestion for the NHL's latest hockey team), the similarity between BC's Lower Mainland and Southern Alberta (similarity? rain, except their roads can handle it), and the Calgary Flames. You know: shallow, glib, and easy reading.

So I choose to go Foremost-on-my-Mind Lite today: Cellular Telephones.

Granted, we don't call them cellular telephones; we call them simply cell phones. In a grammatically technical sense, "cell phones" are known as clipped words, owing to the fact that some of their letters or syllable appear to have been, you guessed it, clipped.

I personally have a phone, as does my wife, daughter, son, and another son. I'm not sure if we communicate any more effectively than we did ten years ago, when only I had the phone. I need it to be available to the many people I work for and with, but I personally use it only for one purpose: I talk on it.

You know, talk, as in T-A-L-K. Talk, as in not text, not take pictures, not use as a computer. I suppose I am a bit of a neanderthal in this area. Now, if cell phones could make my bed and wash my dishes, I might have a purpose to switch.

Whether I am in my classroom or at my diningroom table, I don't allow cell phones. Not merely cell phone usage—the actual cell phones themselves. Just think of trying to talk to one person while they are talking to another person and you get the picture. I don't know about you, but I consider that very rude and inconsiderate.

We are aware of the law of driving and talking, where talking on the phone is prohibited. I have found that talking on the phone during my long drives home to be a very useful way to spend my time. I know it does represent a supreme distraction to the driver, even in pristine driving conditions—like lonely stretches down the Foremost Highway. (I hope Officer Whodunit isn't reading this.)

I think that cell phones should be turned off during any significant public event—weddings, funerals, church services, and reading famous newspaper columns. The ring alone would be disruptive. If nothing else, at least put the ringer on vibrate, especially if it is just a "hey-what's-happening?" type of call Even then, getting up and rushing out to answer the phone seems so unnecessary. I understand the need to stay in touch if you're a volunteer fireman or your wife is having a baby, but that probably eliminates about 99.99% of us.

Do we really need to cling to a corner and text, text, text? Generally speaking, the content and style of most texting leaves much to be desired. I can see where it could be fun, immediate, and independent—kind of an interesting metaphor for how we view life in this 21^st century.

So, please don't text me vital information or ask me mindless questions about useless subjects. I either can't or won't answer. Besides, it's very rude to be on a cell phone while writing a column.

Foremost on my Mind: Questions about Feminism

 

Have you ever wondered whatever happened to a gender perspective once known as "feminism"? Is it still kicking around out there, or has it gone into hiding? A few decades ago, this loudly-heralded movement was going to liberate women from the prison and poison of their domestic roles and their gender limitations. They would be free from the shackles of femininity, ready to soar above the mundane and stake their claim to unlimited possibilities. Oh, and "womanhood" would be re-defined.

Remember those glorious prophecies, belted out by the prophets of old (sorry, prophetesses of old), among them, (Ms.) Steinem and (Ms.) Greer?

I think we all need to pause, take a breath, and see where this much ballyhooed movement is today. Or at least take a pointed look at something that had all the potential of re-vamping our culture.

A good place to start is through questions. And today, boys and girls and other types of humans, I will ask the questions, but you may provide the answers. I fully expect to raise a few eyebrows over what appears another male chauvinist pig's rant—but I am neither a wiener nor a whiner, at least on a topic as dicey as feminism. I think, as usual, it's a matter of passing along a few observations about something I find intriguing.

Here are some of the questions:

1. Are women any better off decades after the movement began? And I don't mean healthier and wealthier, either. Those are by-products of an upwardly-mobile economy, regardless of gender battles. Beyond the advances in voting privileges and personhood, initiated decades before the current movement started, we're talking about the overall quality of life and lifestyle.

One of the buzz expressions of this movement has been "equality with men." I think that it means something like equal pay for equal work, equal rights, and equal opportunity. Shocker of all shockers, I agree with that sentiment.

However, carried to its logical conclusion, there would be no "women and children first" thinking, on the part of the gentlemen of the world. I personally would not feel inclined to offer my seat to a woman, nor open the door for her. I don't feel the same compulsion to do that for a man, so if we're all equal, then they can get their own seat, open their own door. I may do that as an act of courtesy for any man or woman, but not because they are a man or a woman.

2. Are women any safer these days? That means, Maurice, that sexual attacks and peep shows are down considerably than they were, say, thirty years ago. Has the movement made the whole sex trade debacle non-existent, or at least minimalized it? I am speaking in particular of the pornographic industry. You do know who the "slaves" are in those factories, don't you? Women, of course, and young women, in particular. Has feminism improved their lot?

3. Are women any happier these days than, say, their mothers' generation? That, of course, is a very tough question to answer, partly because happiness is so subjective, partly because the culture of today's woman and yesterday's woman is so different. It's like comparing fish with bikes.

It's foolish to demand equality in any arena simply on the basis of gender. I would say simply that the best-qualified person, male or female, should get the job. I repeat, a person shouldn't get a position anywhere because of gender. They get the job because they are the best person suited for it. And that include soldiers, firefighters, politicians, principals, et al.

She shouldn't get it—ever, never, no how—simply because she is a woman. That would be sexual discrimination in reverse. And that the last thing we need.

That would be, uh, a Ms-taken notion indeed.