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PAGE
TWO
Christmas
leftovers
Cold?
A time for reasoned thinking
Some moral direction, please!
Another lesson learned
WSO
needs our support
Forget me nots
A different reason for staying put
V1-N27
January 13, 2003
Christmas
leftovers
As usual
the holiday season has resulted in an overabundance of leftovers
of all descriptions. From the sinuous remnants of the toughest
turkey ever to grace a roasting pan, to a stack of crumpled
wrapping paper high enough to rate a designation as Manitoba's
highest hill, I'll be spending the next few weeks ridding
myself of the bounty that literally overflowed.
Rather
than toss everything out lock stock and stuffing I've decided
to take some of my own recycling advice and come up with some
innovative solutions to my post-Christmas refuse problem.
1) Utilize
all used wrapping paper and those bows too disfigured to be
re-used next year to create a human like paper mache figure
whose silhouette will grace my living room window when I am
away to deter would be thieves from thinking my home is unoccupied.
2) Use
the 60 or so pairs of socks I received this year to fashion
a uniquely masculine quilted blanket that will scream out
to friends and loved ones, loudly, clearly and unequivocally.
"next year please get me something—anything—else."
V1-N29
January 27, 2003
Cold?
With the
weather hitting some pretty cold lows over the last two weeks,
-20° Celsius and lower without even factoring in the wind-chill,
there are those among us who believe it's best to simply ride
out the weather and stay toasty warm indoors.
While
that may be perfectly acceptable for many, it strikes me as
a bit of a lost opportunity to experience some of winter's
hidden charms.
After
all, even if we stay indoors, peering outside from our windows,
most conversations inevitably steer towards discussions of
the weather.
For those
who still are perfectly mobile and capable of getting around
on their own steam, there's nothing like a short brisk walk
after a fresh sprinkling of snow. The crunch! crunch! crunch!
of your feet on the snow is unlike any other sound in the
world, except perhaps for my brother-in-law munching on a
bowl of cornflakes.
Even
the act of getting all dressed up to go outside, scarves,
gloves, hats, sweaters and boots adds a touch of formality
to any excursion, such as meeting a friend at a coffeeshop
for a cup of tea or hot chocolate.
And let's
not forget the colour that winter's cold temperatures bring.
Yes the colours! Colours of rosy cheeks, reddened noses and
ears. Of hands furiously rubbing together quickly to restore
some circulation and draw back the flow of warm blood to fingers
and toes.
I guarantee
you that it's the cold that makes us appreciate the warmth
of house and hearth and good company. And inevitably it's
the cold that reminds us of our youth, of playing outdoors
seemingly all day and bringing home frostbitten toes, ears
and fingers to mother. It's always struck me as a bit ironic
how it's the cold, the winter, that brings back the warmest
memories.
V1-N31
February 10, 2003
A
time for reasoned thinking
With the
ongoing rhetoric by the United States calling for war, the
opportunity for seniors to bring their experience into a measured
debate of the issue is both critical and necessary.
For many
seniors, who either experienced war first-hand as veterans
or as civilians forced to exist in the face of wars' many
effects, the years have provided an invaluable and level headed
viewpoint on the necessity of armed conflict.
While
the media, politicians and military types incessantly harp
away as to the necessity of war many seniors remain unconvinced
that the West is left with no choice but to take up arms in
the Persian Gulf.
"Unlike
most of the politicians and those in the media, many of us
actually know what war is like and its effect on the civilian
population," notes Winnipeg senior Reid Diesmore, who says
the effects of WW2 on his family were devastating.
"Families
were separated for years and many young men never ever came
home again and the things we saw overseas, what the civilian
populations had to endure, was terrifying."
For Diesmore
and others the consideration of war in the Persian Gulf has
sadly been very long on analyzing military and political consequences
with very little being said on the more fundamental human
consequences.
"Few people
are considering what the children, women and ordinary civilian
will face if a war does happen.
"War should
be an absolute worst case scenario.
"That's
what seniors can bring to the discussions about war, a level
head and an opportunity to understand the toll war has on
humanity. I think whenever we get the chance to talk to a
younger person about that we have to remind them that with
war comes a whole host of other unpleasant realities, so you
have to make sure whatever cause you decide to fight for is
truly worth the cost."
Excellent
words of wisdom Reid.
V1-N33
February 24, 2003
Some
moral direction, please!
With the
recent spate of home invasions and assaults upon seniors reported
in our newspapers lately, you could be forgiven for thinking
that society has indeed reached its lowest point.
It is
horrific enough to read far too frequently, of the death of
young children as a result of neglect or violence but, now
seniors are increasingly becoming the victims of crimes that
include violence.
Inevitably
the question among right-minded people is, how in heaven's
name were these thugs brought up that they would target children
and seniors?
The answer,
sadly, must be that they were not brought up at all. While
these offenders may have been sired or bred they were obviously
not raised or parented. When such offenders finally run out
of road and finally are forced to answer for their actions
in court, we regularly read—by way of their defense—that
the offender was himself a victim of violence as a child,
of an abusive upbringing, had no father figure, bounced around
from foster home to foster home, etc. etc. ad-nauseum.
However
the absence of proper parenting or upbringing doesn't mediate
such behaviour. Look at the thousands and thousands of children
left fatherless and even orphaned during the two great wars.
Those
generations of children went on to create unprecedented cultural,
economic, social and technological advancement. And look at
the hundreds of thousands of immigrants who came to Canada
after the wars. These people also witnessed horrific violence
and suffered cataclysmic psychological and physical wounds
and yet raised a generation of children who were law abiding,
who were not violent and who contributed positively to society
in the broadest manner. They refused and rejected the weak
notion of victimization. They overcame whatever disadvantages
they were faced with and took responsibility for their actions
and for the well being of their neighbours and their fellow
citizens.The imperative that drove them was the ideal that
in so doing, society would do the same for them.
It's
obvious that these basic values of responsibility need to
be revisited today, in our homes, our neighbourhoods and our
schools. Without any moral direction the prognosis for a civil
society is not comforting.
V1-N36
March 17, 2003
Another
lesson learned
I know
of a man who once chided his elderly mother for religiously
reading the obituaries in the newspaper each day.
"It's
so maudlin," remarked the man. "Who wants to be
reminded of death, of your friends all dying and of your own
mortality?"
The old
woman smiled in a way that revealed her routine review of
the ledger of the dead was anything but some hopeless or morbid
indulgence.
"That's
not it at all son," she smiled. "I see them as a
celebration and an honouring of these lives in the words written
here by friends and family."
It was
obvious by the look on her son's face that he didn't grasp
his mother's point.
"Here,
look at this one," she pointed. "This fellow was
my neighbour when I was growing up in the West End."
Slowly
her son moved beside her.
"Look,
his name was Harry. I recognized his face right away when
I saw it here in the paper. His eyes were always mischievous
and he teased me relentlessly when we were in elementary school
together. I also remember having a little crush on him one
summer when we were eight or nine years old."
After
a few minutes the young man's cynicism had been replaced by
understanding, and I suspect some gratitude for he noticed
that his mother, just by having the opportunity to recount
and retrace her short childhood history with Harry had filled
his mother's face with a warm glow and touched her eyes with
the energy of youth. In fact he could actually see his mother
as an eight year old girl breathless with excitement and youth
bursting in her every movement and word.
Together
they read and learned that the young boy she had lost track
of so many years ago had led a long and prosperous life and
that Harry had married his high school sweetheart, gone to
university, and raised a large family of his own.
And the
man saw that reading about Harry seemed to fill his mother's
face with a warm peaceful glow, without the slightest trace
of sadness, remorse or self-pity.
"It's
good to find out about Harry after all these years,"
she finished, continuing to scan the other obituaries.
The man
never questioned his mother about reading the obituaries again.
I know
this for certain because that man was me.
V1-N38
April 7, 2003
WSO
needs our support
One of
Winnipeg's finest cultural institutions, the Winnipeg Symphony
Orchestra, is in deep financial trouble. The situation is
not unlike that faced by many orchestras across the nation
as attendance sags under the impact of new entertainment technology—satellite
TV, DVDs, digital music—a graying subscription base and
decreasing general public interest and awareness of classical
music.
But for
over six decades the WSO was the finest jewel in the city's
artistic crown. Even before the Centennial Concert Hall was
built in the early 70's the WSO played to packed houses at
the old Winnipeg Civic Auditorium on Memorial Blvd where the
little—by international standards—orchestra soon
carved out a reputation as a world-class group of musicians
who fashioned a warm, passionate and rich orchestral sound.
But it
was when the Centennial Concert Hall was finally constructed
and completed that the WSO fully came into their own with
a home that was the equal of almost any other orchestra in
the country and many of those in the United States as well.
Since its arrival there the orchestra was able to develop
into an institution that served Winnipeg and the province
with some of the finest musical moments it has ever known.
The orchestra toured, broadened its musical repertoire, expanded
its size and continued to hone the sound widely known as the
"WSO sound."
Without
a doubt its headiest days were those under the artistic direction
of Bramwell Tovey, a man whose magnetic personality was matched
with an almost peerless musicianship. Tovey invited the city
to renew its friendship with the WSO with regular concerts
for school children, an enlarged Pops program, the strategic
development of masterworks concerts featuring the emotive
works of Mahler, Brahms and Rachmaninoff sprinkled occasionally
with a dash of atonality and modernism from Hindemith to Stravinsky
while ensuring that the familiar standards played throughout
the years were not ungratefully abandoned but given new life
with his interpretive adaptations.
The introduction
of the New Music Festival exposed whole new generations of
people to the WSO and to the work of a new generation of composers
and all the while the reputation, stature and performance
of the orchestra grew larger.
Sadly
since his departure the fortunes of the WSO have declined.
It wasn't that one man alone could make or break the WSO but
his enthusiasm, his willingness to seek out audiences old
and new, to find new fits and new challenges was insatiable
and virtually unstoppable. He was passionate about this orchestra
and this city, respected its history, its people and saw its
potential. However the WSO management and board failed to
capitalize on and continue with that momentum.
It's time
for those who love the WSO and who administer it to find the
energy and enthusiasm again before it's too late. We can do
our part by buying tickets again and sending letters to our
politicians—who have no qualms in supporting a multi-million
dollar arena—to provide the WSO with the breathing space
needed to get back on track.
V1-N40
April 21, 2003
Forget
me nots
There's
a recent trend in today's world to neglect our history and
strip away its context by renaming places, buildings and public
institutions that incorporate corporate brand identity or
the insatiable personal egos of those who ante-up with some
funding dollars.
Recently,
the Walker Theatre was renamed the Burton Cummings Centre
for the Performing Arts. While Mr. Cummings is a gentleman
who I believe has some strong affection for his hometown and
has certainly made a name for himself, the name change had
more to do with attempting to piggy back on Mr.Cumming's celebrity
status than with a real groundswell of public desire by Winnipeggers
to name yet another complex after him—the Burton Cummings
Community Centre in the West End already bears his moniker.
What next?
How long before Valour Road is renamed, or Andrew Mynarski
School or Weston? There were stories behind the naming of
these streets, buildings and neighbourhoods. Stories about
real people who made significant sacrifices and contributions
to this community, and indeed the nation, that should not
be forgotten. These are stories that could serve both as an
example and as an inspiration to the generations that follow.
But they can only survive if we as seniors, as grand-parents
and parents, and most importantly as citizens keep them alive.
We can
accomplish this by sharing our knowledge of the history of
this city and of the people, most long since dead who, in
great part, made this city.
It's not
an impossible task. For years, particularly in 1970s to 1990s,
Remembrance Day was, at best, a demonstration of the indifference
of the general population to the great sacrifice of thousands
of young men and women during the two great wars. While veterans,
their families and the military continued steadfastly to keep
their promise not to forget, civilian crowds at ceremonies
were sparse at best.
In the
past several years however, the civilian crowds at the ceremonies
have grown, partly due to a renewed focus on such education
in the schools, and because of efforts made by the Legions
and various veterans' groups. That's an indication that we
need not forego our history, that appreciating, knowing and
sharing this history makes us richer as individuals and a
community.
And it's
the same for our city, it's landmarks and general history.
But It takes individual effort and intentional resolve not
to let society denigrate and ignore the past, and we all have
a part to play in that struggle.
Because
I fear that if we don't all do our part now, institutions
such as the WSO and even the legislative buildings may one
day fall victim to the present day excesses of advertising
execs and individual egos. If that happens we'll look up one
day to find our Centennial Concert Hall suddenly renamed to
the McConcert Hall and the Royal Winnipeg Ballet called the
7-11 Centre for Dance.
V1-N47
June 9, 2003
A
different reason for staying put
For many
seniors selling their home and moving into a condo or seniors'
complex becomes inevitable when the task of interior and exterior
maintenance becomes too much to handle. For others it's a
case of taking annual winter retreats to a warmer clime that
make owning a home that will sit vacant just too impractical.
While
that route is increasing the one many seniors are taking,
there are seniors who simply won't give up home and hearth.
My 88-year-old
neigbour, Jack, is one of those fiercely loyal homeowners.
He loves the home in which he and his wife raised their children.
Even though Jack lives alone now, having lost his "sweetheart"
over 30 years ago, he is as industrious as any man 50 years
his junior.
Jack is
always the first to shovel his walks and driveway in -30c
weather, the first to rake his lawn in the fall, the first
to fertilize and manicure his lawn, the first to plant his
flowerbeds—you get the picture.
In short,
Jack is always first, and around our neigbourhood he is both
admired and feared. Admired: for the pride and fastidiousness
of his handy work. There's nothing he won't tackle and usually
does better than most tradespeople. But he is equally feared
by other men on the street, particularly those of us who keep
the missus at bay by offering up the myriad of excuses men
will come up with to avoid mucking around and cleaning out
the eaves, pruning a hedge or digging up a bad driveway. But
with Jack in the neighbourhood every excuse my neighbours
and I have ever tried to come up with to avoid, defer, delay
and obstruct the inevitable, lays in ruins the moment any
woman on the street sees Jack scurrying up a 24' ladder, or
wrestling with car-sized chunks of cement that he's broken
up with his trusty pick axe and sledge hammer.
"Well
look at Jack," they say.
Yes precisely
I think. Look at Jack, giving all us hard working dirty-chore
avoiding types a bad name—and he just loves it too.The
other day I came home to find Jack talking to my missus. She
had told him that I had all these great tools (after all every
guy just has to have a collection of tools, doesn't he?) and
Jack asked me if he could have a look.
I regretted
it the moment he stepped in and looked at my gleaming work
bench with power tools of every description and variety. Looking
around he gave me a mischievous smile and said, just loud
enough so my wife would hear, "Nice tools, Gerry. But
you should take-em out to play once and a while. They're pretty
but they need regular exercise."
After
that incident I, and the other men in the neighbourhood, began
trying to convince Jack that he should think about getting
a condo and putting his feet up, maybe even taking a regular
winter holiday.
Jack only
smiled, "Don't think so. Too much entertainment for me
round here."
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