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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2009-06-18, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, JUNE 18, 2009. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt O, my Luve’s like a red, red rose… – Robert Burns Adivine bonding, that. Poet, firebrand and skirt chasing scallywag Rabbie Burns, Scotland’s greatest (some might argue -- only) gift to Romanticism coupled with the most romantic flower that ever bloomed – the cheerleader of the Rosacea family, the not-so-common rose. I never appreciated the potency of the blossom until I bought a dozen long-stemmed beauties for my own Beauty, a few years back. Fate had me on a bicycle that afternoon, pedalling through town. I had to make a few stops on the way home and I figured a bundle of roses left in the bike’s basket might prove too great a temptation for passing Lotharios, so I carried the bouquet with me, nestled in the crook of my arm while I attended to my chores. I was treated like I was George Clooney. Total strangers beamed at me and chortled heartily as if I was delivering winning lottery cheques. “Who’s the lucky lady?” one asked. Others congratulated me, held doors open; one even patted me on the back. Need I add that the smilers, congratulators, door persons and back-patters were all women? A powerful botanical ambassador, the rose – especially when presented, with appropriate fanfare, by the fella to the lady. There’s a story about the French actor Paul Meurisse, a man renowned for being economical with his words – so economical he made Marcel Marceau seem like a babbling Rush Limbaugh. Once, smitten with a young demoiselle, Meurisse went into a Manhattan florist’s shop, attracted by a legend in the window that read: SAY IT WITH FLOWERS. Meurisse prowled around the shop peering at every bloom. Finally he selected a single, red rose and asked that it be delivered to the lady’s address, accompanied by his card. “And is there any message?” asked the clerk. Meurisse thought for a moment, then took the flower and performed some artful pruning on the spot. He handed the face-lifted rose back to the clerk with a worried smile. “There you are,” he said, “And even at that, I wonder if I haven’t said too much.” I like to imagine what the young woman must have thought when she received Meurisse’s card – along with a rose sporting only two petals. Roses – even all-but-bald ones – speak volumes and they captivate the minds of lovers and thinkers alike. Shakespeare asked: “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” And Matisse opined “There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than to paint a rose.” Even though it echoed in the first half of her surname, the flower held decidedly less mystique for Eleanor Roosevelt. The famous author, lecturer and wife of U.S. president F. D. Roosevelt once told a reporter: “I had a rose named after me and was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: ‘No good in bed, but fine against a wall.’” The only other rose story I know involves my uncle Vincent. Uncle Vince is getting on a bit and his memory, to be charitable, isn’t what it once was. Last week he and his wife had another couple over for dinner. They’re all pretty much old school, so after dessert, the men sat around the dining room table with cigars and coffee while the women retired to the kitchen. “Had a great restaurant meal downtown last night,” Uncle Vince told his pal. “Can’t recommend it highly enough.” “Really?” said the other man. “And can you remember the name of the restaurant?” Uncle Vince knitted his brow, rubbed his jaw, squinted. “Oh, man,” he groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “What’s the name of that flower – you know – the red one? It’s got thorns? You see it a lot around St. Valentine’s Day.” The other man says “You mean, the rose?” “Yeah!” cries Uncle Vince excitedly. Then he turns around in his chair and yells into the kitchen: “Rose, what was the name of that restaurant we went to last night?” Arthur Black Other Views A rose is a rose is a rose – right, Rose? Premier Dalton McGuinty won an election two years ago by insisting children should not be educated in religious schools because they would become ghettoes. So why is he now pushing them into new types of ghettoes? The Liberal premier won by opposing a Progressive Conservative proposal for the province to fund more faith-based, including Muslim, fundamentalist Christian and Jewish schools, in addition to the Roman Catholic schools it has funded for more than a century. McGuinty said the proposal would further segregate children, when those of different religions and races benefit from being educated together and learning to understand and accept each others’ faiths. The premier went further, saying children from different economic backgrounds also should be able to learn and grow together. But he now has abandoned these egalitarian principles in favour of one in which parents wondering which school they should send their children to can be much more selective about whom they rub shoulders with. His education ministry has provided, and McGuinty has defended, a website on which parents can find what percentages of each school’s students are from low-income homes, do not speak English as their first language, need help with special education, have parents who had a university education; and are gifted. Parents who want this information are looking for what seems to them the perfect school, where every child is an achiever, encouraged by well-off, well-educated parents, and not held back by parents less ambitious for their kids and children who take up too much of teachers’ time, because they speak English poorly or for other reasons are slow learners. The statistics they obtain, for a start, may not present an accurate picture. Parents’ incomes often are not much of a guide to how concerned they are their children are well educated. Low-income parents know first- hand how lack of a good education can hurt. People who dig ditches and clean floors often push for their children to be educated as much as some who make much more money selling gas-guzzling cars or marketing cigarettes and soap. When the marks of children from across the province are counted, the highest often are obtained by students from low-income families who came from some remote part of the world a few years earlier not speaking a word of English. Parents who have had a university education often push for the best for their children, but they are not the only parents who want the best education for their children and have no more right to it than others. They also already have some advantage in having skills and opportunities to help and encourage their kids. Children of poorer, non-English speaking, less educated parents also deserve the same education and should be in schools that provide it. Children learn humility and tolerance if they are educated with others who are not as well off financially, and appreciation for having the latest style in clothes is no guide to a person’s worth. Children from English-speaking backgrounds benefit from associating with those from other countries, who have traditions that are different, but well worth knowing. They have an opportunity to see geography and history first-hand and all around them. Children who see others with disabilities, working to overcome them, learn lessons in perseverance more valuable than can be learned from a book. The province by providing this information is encouraging selfishness and snobbery and even racism. Will it ask next whether a parent drives a Lexus or a Ford? It also is fostering schools where the well connected will send their children and others for the rest, which means ghettoes. Teachers, principals, directors of education and school trustees increasingly are among those asking the province to stop providing this information. So why is McGuinty continuing to make it available? One reason is many parents want to get their kids into what they think is the best school and they are conscientious and committed – the type who always vote. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk Give me a word, first thing that comes to your mind and flies out of your mouth. I’ve begun a little ritual on Friday mornings with a couple of colleagues. Having experienced a few occasions when my worn- out brain couldn’t dredge up fodder to fill this space, I asked them for a topic. The result was the most fun I’d had churning out words in ages. So it was that a backlog in the grey matter recently, sent me running to them again. Then again. Then yet again. There have been those experiences when the word they toss my way (what do I know about fishing?) has created a greater challenge for me than if I had followed the usual ritual. That being a sleepless Thursday night, an eddy of thoughts, worries and plans swirling around in my head. Which brings us to this week’s word — stress. A friend, who I know to be experiencing an inordinately high level of stress, remarked that she was feeling somewhat under the weather. She was lethargic, felt nauseous a good deal of the time, all for no apparent reason and found she couldn’t clear her head of worrisome thoughts. Another acquaintance, having reached a certain age, felt she no longer had control of her true self. Her behaviour had changed and her mind felt fuzzy. While she suspected the issue was hormonal, it couldn’t stop her from feeling lost and scared. Pressured already by a demanding job, the stresses combined until she started to wonder if she might be losing her mind. So the circle begins. Stress isn’t all bad. Short-term it may boost immunity flipping on the fight or flight switch. Long-term, however, has the opposite effect lowering your body’s ability to take care of itself. Chronic stress can hurt the heart and the brain. And when health deteriorates, one’s inability to do the things they’ve always done in the way they’ve always done then creates worry and fear. So the circle continues. What’s important to keep in mind is that unlike primitive times, it is not the stressors that are life-threatening, but the adrenal overload, our reaction to them. And that is something we can try to control. Most people know about stress. At some point it has slipped onto the shoulders of virtually every person and they struggle to shed its weight. I’ve been there more times than enough. And some time ago, deciding it was getting me nowhere, but finding it difficult to fight my natural inclination, made a commitment to, if not stop, then try to ease it. It’s no secret that one of the best ways to do that is in the air around us. Deep breathing relaxes and calms, the perfect antidote to stress. As well research has shown that it also boosts energy levels and helps alleviate physical ailments. All of these good things, and no special talent required, it kind of makes you wonder why it isn’t part of everyone’s day. With a little practice anyone can benefit. To start and maintain a relaxation practice choose a technique that appeals to you. Research will help you find the options, then consider your lifestyle’s specific needs. Make it part of a daily routine, but pick a time when you’re wide awake as that is when you will get the most benefit. I did; everyone should. It’s well worth the time, a good way to close the circle. On that you have my word. McGuinty creates new ghettoes My word on it It is not enough to have a good mind. The main thing is to use it well. – Rene Descartes Final Thought Letters Policy The Citizen welcomes letters to the editor. Letters must be signed and should include a daytime telephone number for the purpose of verification only. Letters that are not signed will not be printed. Submissions may be edited for length, clarity and content, using fair comment as our guideline. The Citizen reserves the right to refuse any letter on the basis of unfair bias, prejudice or inaccurate information. As well, letters can only be printed as space allows. Please keep your letters brief and concise.