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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2016-09-01, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2016. PAGE 5. Other Views Don't touch that television dial Some days it feels like the world is sadistically calibrated to make a guy feel old. Today, for instance, I read in the paper that the average North American household receives 190 television channels. A hundred and ninety channels! If you started tonight and watched a different channel every night you'd still have a couple of weeks worth when next spring rolled around. Why does that make me feel old? Because I remember when the average North American household received precisely zero TV channels. There were no TVs to be seen. We had radios instead. Huge, honking pieces of furniture with glowing dials encased in burnished wood cabinets. They came with names like RCA and Philco, Zenith and Admiral and they were the size of ATMs. No portables, in those days. Those behemoths required two strong backs to budge them; they plugged into the wall and enjoyed pride of place in virtually every living room in the land. But they were technological dinosaurs. Another, newer piece of furniture was oozing its way into our living rooms. They were TV `sets' about the same size as the radios they Arthur Black usurped. Gone was the radio dial, replaced by one big eye (well, 'big' to us — a 24 -inch screen was considered a monster) underscored by two large knobs, one for volume the other for channel selection, and in between, a half-dozen control buttons for adjusting brightness as well as vertical and horizontal 'holds'. The channel knob was circular with 13 clickable positions. That's how many channels were theoretically available — although most of those channels delivered what looked like close-ups of snowstorms or op -art railroad tracks. In Toronto we got four channels reliably — and even they went off the air around supper time. Innocent times. In 1961, Newton Minow, Chairman of the U.S. Federal Communications Commission delivered a stinging rebuke of the new medium in a speech to the National Association of Broadcasters. He lambasted television as 'a vast wasteland'. "When TV is good, nothing is better," Newton told the broadcasters, "but when television is bad, nothing is worse." And this was before the world had even heard of Jersey Shore, Here Comes Honey Boo-boo or Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Is television better now than it was in the bad old days? Well, it's certainly more ubiquitous. With nearly three television sets in every household, Canada ranks second in the world, trailing only the country that gave us...well, Jersey Shore, Honey Boo Boo and the Kardashian clan. But `better'? That would be, I think, a stretch. But here's another interesting factoid. For all those nearly 200 channels television viewers can choose from, guess how many the average viewer watches. Seventeen. Just a shade more than the 13 - channel universe that was available when TV came on the scene three-quarters of a century ago. That means that the average TV watcher never even checks out 90 per cent of the channels available. Perhaps that's because the average TV watcher knows that — how do the French put it — Plus ca change; plus c'est la meme crap. Starting the adventure of a lifetime Early in the morning on Sunday, August 21 just prior to 1 a.m., a cry broke a tense silence on the second floor of the Alexandra Marine and General Hospital. The cry, which came from my daughter Sandra Mary Jane Scott, marked the end of one phase of the life I share with my wife Ashleigh and the beginning of new ground for us: being parents. Nothing could have prepared me for that moment — seeing this small person who will undoubtedly become the biggest thing in my life. Sure, I've seen shows on television and movies and read books about people welcoming children to the world but, despite the lack of sleep for two days, the gravity of what had just happened was the most sobering thing I've ever faced. While I could be talking about the changes in everything from sleep patterns to house chores, I'm not. I'm talking about the fact that, for the first time ever, I had to worry about someone else's well-being. Ashleigh and I love each other and care for each other but we're both fiercely independent people. We lean on each other when need be but both of us have a stubborn streak as wide and untamed as a raging river. I'm not saying we're isolated people who just happen to share a home, I'm saying that, until she was pregnant, we hadn't been in a situation where either one of us needed the other quite so much. It was a good primer, but, in reality, nothing can prepare you for this small person who needs your help with everything from eating to wiping their nose to not scratching their own skin off. As I've told anyone who has asked, I'm terrified. Sure, I'll hide it well with a joke, but, in my moments of reflection, I realize that things need to change and things are changing at a break -neck pace. There are milestones in life — events that mark the transition from one stage to the next — that are supposed to be big changes. Graduating, for example, is supposed to mark a big change in life. Whether it's from elementary school to secondary school (or from elementary school to middle school to secondary school as seems to be the way now) or from secondary school to whatever lies beyond, graduating can be scary. I, however, found it wasn't all that big a change. As a matter of fact, I found secondary school to be exactly like primary school for the most part and I didn't find some great sense of freedom when I moved on to post -secondary. I just found I needed to work a lot to enjoy the kind of life I wanted to live and that meant that, just like in secondary school, I was going to school, coming home, going to work and then sleeping. Graduating from post secondary didn't mark much of a change for me either as I found a job approximately four blocks away from my school. After that, the biggest change I hit was finding an apartment, and then a home, with Ashleigh. Living together and getting married (or the reverse of that if you feel that's the way it should go) is a scary proposition for a lot of people. Losing the individuality of one's own sanctuary is a tough proposition, especially when the reward is contingent on two people being compatible. However, if you've done your homework and spent enough time making sure this move is the right one, it's not going to be all that scary. With all the above examples, there is some way to prepare yourself for it. Schools host all kinds of events to get people used to their pending academic changes. Spending time with a partner in their home or your home allows you to know if you're going to be able to live together to some degree. There is, however, no analog for when you first become a parent. You could set an alarm to wake you up every three hours. You could practise changing diapers on a dummy baby, you could use that same dummy to practise feeding, burping and dancing around the house to try and get the baby to sleep but, in the end, it will do nothing to prepare you for how you're going to feel the moment you first hear her cry. And that's just the first week (which is really all I can speak to right now, check back later for other realizations). There is nothing you can do to prepare yourself for the terrifying fact that your fed baby with a clean diaper is still crying for some unfathomable reason and all you can do is try to rock her to sleep. There is no opportunity to spend time with this little person who is moving in to your home and your heart and get to know what life with them will be like. Don't get me wrong — I'm loving every second of it. From the funny faces to the flailing limbs to my wife unsuccessfully trying to not wake me up as she goes for a late-night feeding (it's the thought that counts). I'm not saying for a second this isn't what I want. I'm just saying that we spend so much time trying to prepare people for these life - changing events and it seems to me that part of what makes them life -changing is experiencing them without preparation. That sense of awe is part of what makes the changes worthwhile. So, to answer any questions swirling that may remain: Sandra Mary Jane Scott was born on Aug. 21 at 12:50 a.m. She weighed 6 lbs, 7 oz and measured a tall 20 inches long. She seems to have blue eyes and brown hair, though I'm told that both of those things can change dramatically in the coming years. Reports indicate the lucky young lady has her mother's eyes, however she apparently has a head and mouth shaped like mine, the poor dear. Final Thought A business that makes nothing but money is a poor business. - Henry Ford Shawn Loughlin Shawn's Sense Frozen in time Just like a lot of the information available these days — the quote that comes to mind is that many are "drowning in information but thirsty for knowledge" — it seems the value of a truly great photograph is being watered down due to the sheer volume of pictures taken every day. Everybody now has a camera with them at all times due to the extreme popularity of cell phones that include cameras. The quality of these cameras has increased over the years and millions and millions of people all over the world are now taking high-quality images at a rate of dozens per day. So while we "drown" in selfies, pictures of food and the "absolutely adorable" way someone's baby or dog happened to fall asleep that day, these are pictures that we're given, but didn't necessarily ask for. So it was a breath of fresh air when John McHenry and Gil Garratt of the Blyth Festival have made a point of trying to assemble a great photograph on the steps of Memorial Hall this Friday. It's easy to say that the era of "great" pictures has come to an end, but I believe they're still out there — you just need to wade through several million more than you used to in order to find one. So, no. This picture will not have an arm or a selfie stick growing out its side and no one will be making funny faces (hopefully) or trying to steal the show. It also won't have any modern filters on it, like Pokemon faces or dog features or fake flower crowns like all of your favourite Snapchat (don't ask me, I don't know any more about it than you do). This will be a good, old-fashioned group photograph that will hopefully capture a special moment in time. To his credit, Peter Smith of Blyth's 14/19 campaign had this foresight as well, when the provincial government announced millions in funding for the local project. He asked that any and all from the community come out to mark the occasion. And he almost got there, with a few notable exceptions. All I'm saying is that in an era where the camera is being turned on the "photographer" in the most vain and self-serving manner possible, it's nice to know there are still people out there who have a flair for the historical moment and assembling members of the community when the occasion calls for it. So, this Friday, head on down to Memorial Hall and be part of a piece of history. How the photograph will be used is still to be determined. McHenry says it could end up being the posted image for the season, or it could end up in the season's pamphlet. Either way, it is an image that will live on. For reporter Denny Scott, for example, if he includes his family in the picture, it will be a time capsule including his wife Ashleigh and their daughter Mary Jane and a way to remember her when she was just weeks old. It also works the other way. No doubt this photograph will include senior members of the community, who one day won't be with us any longer. We can all look back and remember those pillars of the community and all they meant to us. We will all be frozen in time together in this special crossroads for Blyth as development blossoms and the community reflects on its history while it looks towards its future. So consider making your way to Memorial Hall on Friday night to be part of this photograph. Whether you're from Blyth or not, you'll be welcomed in as a future resident of the halls of history.