Foremost on my Mind: Amen for Hockey

Name the one place that hats are taken off in reverential respect; where God is mentioned in song; where specific routines are religiously carried out; and where those in rows clap their hands and raise their arms in glorious delirium.

 

And while you're at it, name the place where there are greeters who take your “offering stub,” then ushers (without a mixed agenda) meekly show you to your seat; and where everyone has access to those rites of all rites—food, fun, and fellowship.

 

If you said your grandmother's First Church of the Holy Spirit, you'd be close.

 

It's not a church, it's a rink; it's not a pulpit, it's an ice surface; and it's not a hymn, it's the national anthem.

 

Speaking of taking hats off: It's anathema to not doff your derby. No taking off your toque, and you would likely be sent to hockey purgatory—Calgary Flames game day practice.

 

I was at recent Lethbridge Hurricanes game with a couple of friends, and I was struck by how churchy the whole event had become. In fact, sometimes I think there might be more reverence at hockey games than in many churches. There are certain acts of courtesy that some of our Bapentecostarian friends would do well do emulate.

 

Just as an example, fans cannot be seated while the game is in play. In a church context, that would be akin to walking up the aisle to one's pew during public prayer. That would be rude and inconsiderate, no matter where the venue.

 

Another intriguing part of the recent game was that one of my companions knew little if anything about hockey. You might say he was a like sinner coming to his first church service. I had to explain all the rites and rituals, the trends and traditions, of the spectacle before us. I don't know if he got converted that night, but I think he came close.

 

I had to work at hiding my own ignorance about the game (I believe it's called “bluffing”), as I tried to explain the who-when-where-why-and-when of our national winter sport. By the time we went out for coffee that evening, I think he had a pretty good idea about the blue line and red line, penalty kill and power play—even the “sin bin” (which works really well into my church metaphor).

 

He will have to re-work his (sports) vocabulary, if he ever gets saved...from basketball: The hoop is now a net; the basket is now goal; the ball is now a puck; and runners have been replaced by skates. Even the shorts are bigger, broader, and badder.

 

Like the right church, there is really nothing that brings our nation together more than ice hockey. To be sure, the professional guys make more money in a year than most of us will make in a lifetime. That's why I watch junior hockey, cheering young men who hope to be drafted in June to the “bigs.”

 

I may quickly add that I am quite content to watch these guys, courtesy of my Gas King-sponsored $14.50, than some cluster of heady professionals at $100 a pop. If I am going to drop my offering into the collection plate—whatever mode it comes in—I want to get my money's worth.

 

The church has been written off for so many reasons—too many superstitions being one of them. Really? I can hardly think of more superstitious place than a hockey rink, a more superstitious group of people than hockey players. Never having been in a locker room personally, I am aware of the which-sock-to-put-on-last routine, the precise-order-out-the-corridor routine, and the who-sits-where-on-the-bench routine.

 

Habits, traditions, and routines (even superstitions) are all a part of all of our lives, whether we're athletes, churchgoers, or ordinary working stiffs.

 

Now if I could just give some long-winded preacher a delay of the game penalty...

 

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Foremost on my Mind: I am (un) Canadian

Having been a Canadian all my life,I have just discovered to my horror that I hold “un-Canadian” views. (Grammar geeks: I have put those dual squiggly commas around that word because it's someone else's word--and for that matter, someone else's notion.

That “someone else,” by the way, is the Honourable (tough for me to say it so nicely) Thomas Mulcair the leader of the federal New Democratic Party (NDP). Apparently he was outraged recently that a Christian humanitarian group, having been given a donation from the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), does not share his moral views.

And by extension, any person or persons that does not share his views apparently is—here's that word again--”un-Canadian.”

The issue at stake for Mr. Mulcair is that the Crossroads Christian Communication holds to the traditional view of marriage, not the fringe view. He has the audacity to speak on behalf of 32 million Canadians, by expressing his views as theirs—and I would like to match his audacity with something that resembles an open letter to him.

First, whatever happened to mutual tolerance, Mr. Mulcair? I thought we “bigoted, hate-mongering right-wing” evangelicals were supposed to be tolerant of all rights, races, and religions. Doesn't it work the other way, too?

Second, whatever happened to fiscal responsibility, Mr. Mulcair? Just for the record, sir, these so-called evil evangelicals have contributed over $535 million to development work overseas over the years—without asking the government for a penny. If the deep wells and clean water that many of these groups are developing were under-written by any form of government, it would have cost ten times that.

Third, whatever happened to factual reporting, Mr. Mulcair? You completely trump all the good that this particular group is doing, zero in on a view that is different from yours, then make some tenuous connection between this group and hate crimes in the host country. Are you sure of your facts, Mr. Mulcair? (I didn't think so.)

Fourth, whatever happened to consistent diatribes, Mr. Mulcair? By that I mean, Are you also going after government agencies that support child labour violation, human trafficking, specious immigration claims, and such? I wonder why your assault is so focused on evangelicals who do not embrace your particular worldview.

Last, whatever happened to founder's principles, Mr. Mulcair? I'm sure you know something about the NDP's founding principles. That said founder, a Mr. Tommy Douglas, was (alas, alas) one of those evangelicals—a Baptist pastor, no less. It seems that you are leading a party that has strayed very, very far from those great foundational convictions that Mr. Douglas (and the party) adhered to.

Strange admission for me, Mr. Mulcair, but I appreciate many of those same views today. One that we might share is the role of government in volunteer overseas development. My thoughts are that they should back off, and CIDA should not get involved in donating money. But, and here's where we differ, it wouldn't be for moral reasons. If that was the case, and it appears you haven't thought this through, we would have to throw out so many other efforts and organizations, that support despotic government worldwide.

Obviously, I could not, with a clear conscience support most current NDP positions, but I recognize the value in their watchdog role. I have stated here before that the NDP always make great leaders of the Opposition, but never leaders of the House.

If you want to fling the “un-Canadian” charge at people like me, I have every right to get my back up. You see, because of certain choices, which you apparently don't agree with, I suppose I have saved the government thousands of dollars over these past few decades by pursuing a moral lifestyle.

In concrete terms, let me spell some examples for you: No messy divorce and the financial fallout from it; no unstable employment issues;a family life that is in the process of producing responsible contributors to the economy; and no jail time, with all its social and emotional upheaval. How's that for starters? Multiply that by the millions just like me, and you understand why your argument is lame, porous, and faulty.

My point here is simple: Watch out for those Canadians you defame. That in itself, to use your word, is very “un-Canadian.”

Foremost on my Mind: Nothing on my Mind

One of the finest ways to spend a Sunday afternoon is drinking coffee and eating cake, to say nothing of getting a Tim Hortons [sic] gift card to boot. I came away from a certain event recently feeling quite fed up, you might say, and looking forward to more of the same sweets and coffee some day.

It was the previous two hour's worth of work that provided the basis for that booty.

The reason? Owing to an innocent answer to a desperate question, I became a judge at a recent 4-H Speaking Competition. I was shrewd enough (my version) to choose to be the judge of those fifteen years and older, in the “impromptu” speech track.

I selected well, as the nervous 4-H'ers spoke for an average of 40 seconds each, when given a minute to prepare for a topic they had little time to prepare for. I honestly didn't think teenagers could be so brief when it came to talking. I wish my kids' cell phone bill would reflect that.

I have never been a judge before. Well, slight correction: I have been a judge many times before; after all, I am a dad, a teacher, an editor, and an occasional umpire at a slo-pitch tournament. But I have never been a judge at a speaking contest before.

The criteria was set before me, so it was pretty basic and self-explanatory. Funny though, by the time I worked my way through the list of things to look for, per speech, it was over. They barely started with “hello” before they said “good-bye.” And even then, a few didn't even get that far.

The topics they chose were a little tough, so maybe that was why they could hardly muster even a white lie. Some of them ranged from “Why going to a 4-H summer camp would be fun,” to “Why principals should give students the day off for their birthday.” Just for effect, I would have chosen one that would have created a little emotion. It would be a guarantee to get every judge right here (as I motion my fist towards my heart).

Had I any say, and I didn't and don't want to (at least this year), I would have suggested any one of the following: “Why kids should get their driver's license at 13.” Or, “Free university for all.” And maybe even this one: “No more formal school after grade 9.”

That would have gotten this judge right here (again, motioning towards my heart—or would that be my stomach?).

Witty statements such as the ones above (or at least my attempt at such) are fodder for a veteran mind and quick lip such as mine. I would thrive on doing an impromptu speech with such limited preparation. Always have, and I trust I always will.

But I wonder how beneficial it is for a fourteen-year-old to extol the virtues of things so seemingly irrelevant to his or her life? A judge in another room that day marveled at a girl who went well passed her time, as she rambled on about the joys of being a pest to her brother. Now we're talking, you might say.

I haven't answered my question yet, the one about the benefits of talking about seemingly irrelevant topics. The short answer is, Yes; the long answer is, Yes, Yes. (I know I've used that line just recently, and it was funny back then, too.)

You see, in a culture of push button information, of having the world at one's fingertips and clicker, of being dumbed-down on a daily basis, this sort of exercise is good. Not only good, but healthy, necessary, and useful.

Whether the kids can explain which is “the most useful piece of equipment on the farm,” or “why we need the SPCA,” is important, but it's really just a starting point. What's really important is the fact that they can stand up, speak up, then shut up. Those are timeless qualities we all need, at any stage of life.

In the afore-mentioned speeches, they greeted everyone formally, attempted to follow a logical progression in their delivery, and chose their words carefully. Nothing wrong with basic elocution skills like that, is there? In fact, it's something that I would be willing to judge next year, if that desperate question comes my way again.

Actually, I would probably be happy to do it, free food and gift card or not.

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Foremost on my Mind: Pennies from...Ottawa?

I went to my favourite sweet shoppe (Him Tortons) the other day; I needed to buy my daily dose of penny candy. Unfortunately, through the stroke of a pen from the powers-that-be, it had become nickel nibbles. I bought as much as usual, paid as much as usual, but somehow I felt there was a, uh, penny-pincher behind the counter.

It's only been a day so far, at the point of this writing, that this law has been put into effect, but already I am wondering about a penny-less Canada. No more “penny for your thoughts.” “Two-bits for your thoughts” just doesn't cut it. Will we never again have to pay a pretty penny? Never really thought of small change as handsome.

What about penny loafers? (If you're under 45, you're probably wondering what they are. Well, I guess it really doesn't matter anymore, does it?).

And will I no longer be able to sing, “Penny Lane” at the top of my lungs? While many neighbours will bless the government for such relief, “Dime Drive” doesn't have the same pizzazz or beat.

I see where this initiative came from the government. My first (and usual) reaction is, Why? But with the government, it's better, Why...now? Or even more precise: What's the hidden agenda? What's the hidden cost?

I had the same reaction when the one-dollar and two-dollar bills were sent to the great bank in the sky, replaced by the loonie and toonie. (Quick: What colour were the bills?) Really: Only in Canada do we have a currency named after silly behaviour.

To be sure, we have adjusted quite well to less bills and more coins. But does that mean we are going reverse things, and go from less coins to more bills? Just wondering.

So maybe that's my fear, namely, not only having the penny dropped completely from circulation, but having it replaced with something else—a paper-type penny, if you will. What do you call something so tiny? A note? A slip? A token?

You could always call it a “Flame,” as that name serves no real usefulness in this part of the world.

Where was I? Oh right: Bre-X bills. Remember them? Those valueless pieces of paper that promised instant wealth to deluded denizens. And no, I wasn't one of them, thank you very much.

I suggest, in my very own humble way—okay, maybe not “very”--that we round up as many of the Bre-X bills, papers, sheets, notes, slips, or whatever else you may call them (that's printable), and use them to replace the penny.

I will go even further: Maybe even use different-coloured ones to assume different values. In other words, brown will be for one penny, blue for two, yellow for three, all the way up to four cents. If our esteemed government chooses to delete the nickel—voila!-- surely there's another shade of a former Bre-X note to this already shady deal.

Naturally, I am not totally serious about the above, but it does make good copy. I just wonder why something has to be dropped in the first place (that would be the penny, Maurice), but not necessarily replaced. Only on cash transactions, of course; on plastic transactions, it's a moot point.

And you did pick up the fact, didn't you, that the amount is rounded up or down, depending on the price ? In other words, you could end up paying a little more, but getting a little less, or you might be paying a little less, but gaining a little more. Either way, you may not always get what you paid for,

Will it be worth it? Obviously, it's hard to say. Methinks one is being penny wise but pound foolish here. Or would that be “nickel nuts but litre loonie?”