Foremost on my Mind: Feb, you're hairy

I know it's now December and “Mo-vember” is history by a couple of days. I meant to write a witty piece on the joys (or sorrows) of having a moustache sooner, but it took too long to groom it for the occasion.

For the men, that would be joy; for women, sorrow.

I cannot recall when I last went hairless between the nose and the lip. (Now between the lip and the crown, that's a different story.) I think we're talking in terms of years. In fact, there's a couple of my kids who have never seen my bare upper lip, stiff or otherwise.

It has taken years to go from chocolate brown to licorice grey; but it can do that in reverse within two bites, thanks to Russ and Rhonda's special cream-filled doughnuts from their Rolling Pin Bakery: The chocolate brown in question would be the icing from those hot and steaming indulgences.

Just a side note: It strikes me as very unprofessional to teach a serious grammar class with icing splattered on or over one's face/face fuzz. I have never learned the art of scarfing those things without making a mess. But then, do I really care? A messy face is a throwback to the good old days of pre-school. After all, eighty years ago, everyone thought a food fight ending up on the face was cute.

Moustaches and other forms of face fuzz come in handy for many different occasions. I can think of at least three: 1. they keep one's face warm in the winter—which is trouble if it's summertime; 2. they give that certain look of maturity—even if looks are deceiving; and 3. they allow a certain place to hide crumbs for that long, treacherous trip home at the end of a long day.

You are aware of area religious traditions that expect a beard at a certain juncture in life, almost as a rite of passage. I have no problem with that. We wasted English do the same, only our emergence into adulthood is set for when we can drive, vote, or, sad to say, drink. Methinks arriving at the threshold of adulthood could be a lot safer if we went the way of 'air and not error.

I remember when I could count the numbers of hairs in my (attempted) moustache. I heard it called a “baseball team” moustache—nine aside. (Or would that be no runs, no hits, no hairs?) I don't know about that, but it was a grand slam day when I could honestly grow a really hairy lip. The beard came a little later, and I've played with face fuzz ever since.

And when I say play, I do mean play: Sometimes it has been a full beard (if I wanted to look like a hippie or a logger); other times, it has been very trim, almost polite (if I wanted to look like a professional or an urbanite). I even went to big bushy sideburns route, but I shaved those off just after the Vietnam War.

Two fires ago, we had plenty of photo collages hanging on a wall in the rec room. I cannot recall how many people wondered who Gwynne's (that would be my wife) first husband was—I had changed my looks (and especially the beard) so drastically. It has gone from brown and bushy to grey and retiring, probably a reflection of my inner soul's development.

Meanwhile, let's stay focused on the topic of discussion: It's great tradition, to be sure, and I think we should keep it up. (Or would that be “on”?) After all, there is no better way to head home after a long day at the school-office-station-farm-site than with a few choice chocolate sprinkles embedded in one's 'stache.

I'm not clear as to how “Mo-vember” all came about and why. I think the dead of winter, traditionally colder months, would be better suited for this nose-duster bit. Trouble is, it's hard to come up with something quippy that flows with February.

Unless it's something like “Feb-you're-hairy.”

Foremost on my Mind: Canada to the Rescue

As I sit in the secure comfort of my snug basement office--heated cement floor beneath my feet, to boot--I am completely incapable of grasping what is happening in the Philippines. Usually, any time-sensitive column written a week before publication is old new by the time you read it (in the secure comfort of your snug office).

Sad to say, this is not that. With the relief effort just getting under way, and with the official death toll still too inaccurate, the bad news from the Philippines will be current news for a while.

Indeed, the mess in the Philippines will be a around for a long time—one long present tense, if you will.

When it comes to man versus nature, there is always only one victor—nature. We have gone through the Hurricanes Sandy and Katrina, the tsunamis in Japan and Southeast Asia over the past few years, so we have ample evidence nature's wrath. And between the recent fires in Australia and not-so-recent earthquake in Haiti, she certainly has been on a rampage.

I have no idea what our friends in the Philippines have gone through, no matter how graphic the television images are. We see just pictures of the tragedy, not the the real thing; and the four other senses are ineffective conductors because we are not there on the spot. News reports are adequate at best, even live ones.

Natural debacles like these bring out the worst and the best in humanity. The worst? The usual looting, killing, and hoarding. And they say the corruption is already rampant among government officials. It disgusts me, but I'm not over there and it's not my family that is starving to death. (That, by the way, is not a token condoning of such evil acts; just a human perspective on, well, human perspective.)

Then there's the bodies hanging from trees, and the accounts of loved ones being ripped from one's arms through the fury of the storm—these are enough to drive anyone to do crazy things. And lack of clean drinking is a pretty good contributor to irrational behaviour.

But, as usual, I want to focus on the best in humanity. What has grabbed my attention the most is the humanitarian aid and services that has poured in from the usual countries. I say usual countries because it's the same few who always step up, while the same many fail to rise up to the occasion.

Two of the afore-mentioned “few” are, of course, Canada and the United States. I know there were other Commonwealth countries (such as Australia), but I am grateful to be part of a country that rises to its global duty when called upon—every single time. To me, sending money and supplies, along with services, is the better way to the dole out foreign aid—not the usual, irresponsible manner (ie., no strings attached) that we normally do it.

I have often wondered why, of the 190 or so countries in the world, that so few are able—correction: willing-- to reach out when disaster strikes. With all the wealth in the Middle Eastern countries, where are they when the chips are down? And with all their passion in faith, where's the goodwill? There is no question that the matter of faith is a key factor: One of the tenets of the Judeo-Christian perspective is serving and helping others.

And I speak of that faith in the broadest sense of the word, not merely along denominational lines. Even from our corner of the country, I cannot tell you how many teams from different Mennonite churches and members of the Evangelical Free Church in the greater Bow Island area have a mission mentality. Teams of common working folk have given up weeks of their lives to serve those in New Orleans; and there are on-going treks to Haiti to dig wells.

General, long-term acts of kindness, the establishment of schools and hospitals are just some few examples of practical faith. This is rarely, if ever, found in other worldwide religions. (I have every intention of developing and defending that statement in a column coming very shortly.)

And as a society that is staggering farther and farther away from these roots, I lament the reality that such acts of global kindness will slowly diminish. You see, when you are raised to look out for yourself or stomp on people to get ahead, there is no place in your thinking for others—especially others in need. Again, part of the healthy legacy of Judeo-Christian teaching is caught up in the phrase ”serving others.”

So whether we do it as a nation, by sending money, aid, or workers to the Philippines in their hour (months?) of need, or as individuals by, well, doing the same, we make this world a safer place to live in.

No matter what Mother Nature has to say about it.

Foremost on my Mind: Leading with Honour

In my other clever column recently—not the dentist one, the politician one—I lamented the challenges of holding public office. There would be too many daily demands for this boy.  Every elected official must be held accountable to his or her constituents, in one way or the other. I think I would disagree too much to be an effective representative.

If I took public office, I would feel constrained to hold that calling with the utmost honour and integrity. I believe I could, but I would likely fall flat on my face by saying the wrong thing at the right time, the right thing at the wrong time—or simply speak from my heart out, not from my teeth out.

You’ve read this column enough times to know I'm quite adept at that.

As you know, and as do millions of Americans now (thanks to the likes of Jon Stewart and other late-night talk-show hosts), there has been a headline-grabbing, gut-wrenching, nerve-wracking, and head-shaking run of antics by some of our eastern elected buffoons.

Whether it’s the mayor of Toronto (Ford), or those three senators from Ottawa (Duffy, Wallin, and Brazeau), Canada most certainly has a black eye for moral incompetence on the international stage. I know the latter three are being stripped of their status because of money issues, but, people, morality is always at the bottom of these things.

As for Rob Ford (I can’t bring myself to say “His Honour”), what an embarrassment! I have no idea what has taken the police so long to get to the bottom of his alleged misdemeanours. They say they have in their possession an indicting video of Mr. Ford smoking crack cocaine, as well as  a mindless rant, but have yet to lay charges of some sort.  I can guarantee that I could never get away with that.

It strikes me as inconsistent that, the higher you are up the proverbial food chain, the slower the wheels of justice turn. “Inconsistent,” of course, is a polite way of saying “double standard.”

I’m trying to follow the complete storyline in both cases. Unfortunately, my primary source is the electronic and radio media, so my information will be a little skewered. You might say that the left is rarely right—pun mercilessly intended.

Between the two parties—mayor and senators—there appear to have been a series of abuses of public offices, money, lifestyles, and trust--then their shameless (and persistent) denials, to boot.

In particular, Ford’s disgusting public shenanigans is just cause for him to resign. No one is perfect, starting with this columnist, but there is an understood protocol for all leaders, a higher standard of behaviour. If Ford wants to get drunk publicly, snort crack cocaine, or drop f-bombs (three allegations levelled at him), that is his business, not mine. However, if he chooses to maintain some sort of honour of the office of North America’s fourth-largest city, that is my business, not his.

And when his antics hit the international stage, he is representing Canada, not just Toronto.

A case in point would be my own profession: Teachers are held to (or at least should be) a high standard, because of their public and influential position. If they violate that honour, they should resign or be fired immediately. I am grateful for school divisions that still have the moxie to carry out said consequences.

Leadership is a strained, difficult calling. I think of parents, foremen, school administrators, employers—even church elders--to name a few spheres. It’s just so crucial to understand the standards of leadership these days. If we are chosen to lead, we should do it in an honourable way.

Beyond a common sense standard, there should be some sort of criteria or expectations for all said leaders to follow. If I had any clout, which I don't, I would suggest that anyone choosing to lead any any one else should embrace the following guidelines. They're not mine, but they have worked for centuries. I have summarized and re-phrased them, to make them more readable:

“Any one who leads should be of blameless reputation, a [person] marked by self-control and discretion; a [person] of a disciplined life, as well, they must be neither intemperate nor violent, but gentle; not fond of a fight, and free from the love of money.”

Just wonder if the likes of Ford, Wallin, Duffy, and Brazeau ever read those gems. They're from the Good Book, and sure make a lot of sense to me.

I think we would all be better off as a nation if we applied such basic principles to ourselves and our leaders.