HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2009-05-14, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, MAY 14, 2009. PAGE 5.
Bonnie
Gropp
TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt
Pay it forward
T here’s a hoary old proverb that gets
bruited about each year about this
time.
“April showers,” the ancient adage goes,
“bringeth forth May flowers.”
That’s not all that gets broughteth forth. In
North America, the second Sunday of May is
set aside to commemorate Mothers’ Day, an
occasion which, if I dwell upon it too long, can
still bathe me in a backwash of twitching self-
condemnation.
My mother, bless her, has been gone almost
20 years now. Perverse as it may sound, there
are at least two good things about that.
Number one, I no longer have to feel quite
so guilty on Mother’s Day anymore. Number
two: dear old mom doesn’t have to find storage
space for yet another crummy tea cup.
Why the feelings of remorse? Because …
well, hell – how do you ever pay back the
person who Gave You Life?
You love her, of course – but how could you
ever possibly love such a paragon enough?
How is it humanly possible to repay the one
human in the history of human existence
without whom you wouldn’t even be – well,
human?
For my money, the comedian Dennis Miller
summed it up best: “You love your mother
because she was your arrival terminal.
She created you, so you always, always owe
her and can never repay the debt. Being
born is like asking Don Corleone for a
favour.”
Exactly.
And how did I repay my Mom each
Mother’s Day when I was a kid? With teacups.
Each Mother’s Day Eve, usually towards the
close of the working day, I would scuttle down
to Woolworth’s or Kresges, find the china
display and select, with careful reference to
whatever remained of my weekly allowance,
one cup and saucer.
I usually chose Ornate-Gothic – with fake
gold piping and a purple floral pattern, if
available. I would ask the salesperson to put it
in a nice box.
“It’s for my mom – Mother’s Day” I would
simper.
If I looked winsome and clueless enough
they would sometimes even gift wrap it for
me.
She gives me life; I give her teacups.
Aaargh.
Some kids, of course, grew up less wracked
with Mother Guilt – Bernie Montgomery,
for instance. Bernie and his mom had a
different kind of a relationship: he was an
only son; she was a complete and utter
Gorgon.
“My early life was a series of fierce battles
from which my mother emerged the victor,” he
wrote. “If I could not be seen anywhere, she
would say ‘Go and find out what Bernard is
doing and tell him to stop it.’”
A mother like that makes life a tough
lineup to crack, but Bernie Montgomery
weathered the storm pretty well. He grew
up to become Field Marshall Viscount
Montgomery – Monty of Alamein to his
generation.
But destiny is an equal opportunity
bushwhacker and the fates conspire to make
sure Mother Guilt gets spread deep and crisp
and even.
Consider the case of Bob Feller.
“Rapid Robert”, with his blistering fastball
and wicked curve, was the winningest pitcher
the Cleveland Indians ever employed and he
was in his prime that day in 1938 out there on
the mound at Comiskey Park, mowing down
Chicago White Sox batters while his proud
and preening momma watched Her Boy
from a prime, first-row seat along the first base
line.
Could the potential for Mother Guilt
atonement ever run higher? A mother’s son
pitching in a major league game? His mother
watching from the stands?
It’s the top of the seventh inning. Chicago
third baseman Marv Owen comes up to bat.
Bob Feller, stares, shakes off a signal from his
catcher, winds up, pumps and hurls. Owen
swings. The ball rips foul along the first base
line.
Of course, the ball arcs into the crowd. Of
course it smacks an unwitting spectator in the
head. Of course the unwitting spectator turns
out to be Bob Feller’s mom.
Mrs. Feller wound up with broken
spectacles and a cut on the forehead. Her
son Bob, devastated, stopped the game,
sprinted over and hovered penitentially
until the club doctor patched her up. Then
Feller went back to the mound, picked up a
new ball, glared lasers at Marv Owen and
struck him out. Like a good Mama’s Boy
should.
Almost a storybook ending. About as good
as Mother Guilt payback ever gets.
Certainly beats a crummy teacup.
Arthur
Black
Other Views Mother’s Day – a mea culpa
Many who live in Ontario feel they
owe their loyalty to countries
thousands of miles away and they
need to put Canada first.
In the most recent example, thousands of
ethnic Tamils blocked this Toronto city’s main
downtown street for five days, causing
huge inconvenience, to focus attention
on civil war in Sri Lanka. Fifteen were
arrested.
They had a right to protest and express valid
concerns, particularly that relatives and friends
were in danger in the last stages of a losing,
bloody rebellion in which human rights have
been violated by both sides.
Ontarians often are apathetic toward abuses
of human rights abroad and they should
protest more, not less. The legislature has set
up a procedure to protest against abuses of
rights abroad, but rarely uses it.
The inconveniences the demonstrators
caused also were minor compared to the
sufferings on the battleground itself.
But they could have demonstrated at other
locations and caused fewer disruptions. And
some of the 200,000 ethnic Tamils in the
Toronto area have indicated they will continue
to protest and are well organized, so this
protest is not over yet.
Ontario now has a tradition of disputes that
originated abroad being pursued here in which
some residents have shown they feel
allegiance to other countries. Not all of them
involve the province’s recent influx of
immigrants.
Some prominent, long-established members
of Ontario’s Jewish community, well known
for being active Liberals, switched their
support to the federal Conservatives under
Prime Minister Stephen Harper in 2006
solely on the ground he was more supportive
of Israel in its long-running dispute with
Palestinians than the federal Liberals.
The defectors, including Heather Reisman, a
member of the federal Liberals executive
committee and chair of a key group that
recommended policy, and her husband, Gerry
Schwartz, a confidante of former Liberal
prime minister Jean Chrétien, paid for a
newspaper advertisement praising Harper for
“standing by” Israel in its attack on Hezbollah
in Lebanon.
Reisman said she had been a Liberal all her
life, but Harper’s stauncher backing of Israel
had persuaded her to switch her vote from
the Liberals, who were only slightly less avid
in defending Israel, but had proposed a
ceasefire.
Schwartz said Harper had shown an
“unequivocal support of Israel’s right to
defend itself against terrorism” and other
Liberals wrote to newspapers here saying
they were switching their votes for the same
reason.
Arguments are fierce on both sides of this
issue, but when Canadians switch from one
party to another solely because it is more
supportive of a foreign country, and disregard
the huge range of issues, mainly domestic, on
which voters normally choose, it raises
questions about how committed they are to
Canadian concerns.
When Yugoslavia disintegrated, Ontarians of
Serbian and Croatian origin traded blows
outside the legislature and some in both
groups went back to fight for what they still
called “our homeland,” which prompts
concerns about how attached they are to the
country in which live.
A gasoline bomb was thrown at a consulate
here and police seized arms meant for Croatia
at an airport. Croats wrote “the only good Serb
is a dead Serb” and an MPP lost his seat
after saying he would never live next door to a
Serb.
Sikhs have fought here with swords and
daggers over events in the country they came
from.
A dispute over who had the right to call an
area “Macedonia” brought 10,000 Ontarians
of Greek ancestry on Toronto streets and
police have to separate supporters of Israel and
Palestine whenever they march.
Three Ontarians of Irish origin were
convicted of attempting to smuggle guns
to help dissidents in that country and
1,500 Moslems marched in Toronto
demanding author Salman Rushdie should
be murdered for allegedly insulting their
religion.
Those who come to live in Canada and find
much safer, peaceful homes here should leave
quarrels that further divide in the countries
where they started.
Eric
Dowd
FFrroomm
QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk
Each day, at the end of the day, the car is
parked in the driveway, and my
husband or I trek across the lawn to
pick up the daily newspaper dropped just at the
edge of our property.
It’s not a problem, especially in pleasant
weather, to take that tiny detour before going in
the house. We’re able, relatively fit, capable of
taking a few extra steps in our day. But
obviously, it’s not as convenient as having the
paper tossed to the door would be. Though to be
honest we’d never really thought too much
about that until recently.
One day last week, we were surprised upon
returning home in the evening to see our
newspaper handily located on the porch. When
we picked it up, we also noticed a small pink
slip of paper. This, it explained, was the result
of a ‘random act of kindness’and now the onus
was on us to pass it on.
It’s an idea I’ve loved since seeing the movie
Pay It Forward many years ago. Given an
assignment in class, a young boy decides to try
and make the world a better place. Each good
deed must be followed by another from the
recipient of the first. The neat thing about it is,
that in theory, if everyone would just take a
moment out of their life to act, it should go on
forever.
Students at Brussels Public School passed out
their own version of the pay it forward pass at a
special Spring Into Action program last week.
Those in attendance were invited to participate.
And I know that at least one person wasted no
time. My husband and I have no idea who saw
the paper lying at the end of our sidewalk and
thoughtfully delivered it closer. It was a sweet
gesture and it is my plan, as I already received a
pay it forward slip, to ensure my husband passes
on the one they left us.
On the unfortunate side, though, I’ve found
it’s not that easy for me to come up with a
random act of kindness. Since the idea was
suggested I’ve been wracking my brain for a
way to make a difference in someone else’s life.
It’s not that I’m an ogress or anything; I’ve
had my shining moments over my lifetime. But
finding them doesn’t come as easily to me as it
does to that rare few who seem to instinctively
know what might make another person’s day.
They are the ones who know that today all that
would take is a hug. They are the first at the
door when you’re in trouble, the first to offer a
helping hand. They seem to have countless
hours in the day, numerous tasks and
responsibilities to juggle, but always manage to
be there for a person when it’s most important.
I’ve always admired those individuals, who,
for example, see a newspaper at the end of a
sidewalk and think to move it. I, instead, tend to
be an after-the-facter. Just like I think of the
great comeback I should have said hours later
than when it was needed, I also tend to think
about what I might have done when it no longer
matters. Had I been the person walking by that
newspaper, I suspect revelation would have hit
about 3 a.m.
Certainly, I wish I could be more like the
other group. But I’m not. What I am, though, is
someone who believes that society in general is
still pretty much made up of good people, and
I’m one of them.
As such, I will hang onto that little pink piece
of paper until the perfect time to use it arrives. I
don’t know when that will be, or where, and
I’m done thinking about it. It may take so long
that I start a whole new wave of random acts,
but I do believe in time, the universe will help
me find my moment. And one thing I promise
the great kids that got this started here, when it
happens I will pay it forward.
Many Ontarians dividing loyalties
Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot
coal with the intent of throwing it at
someone else; you are the one who gets
burned.
– Buddha
Final Thought