Loading...
The Citizen, 2009-08-27, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 27, 2009. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt Do you know where your kids are? You do? Then, quick – lasso and hogtie the little beggars, hose ‘em down with hot, soapy water, muffle their bodies head to toe in bubble wrap and hide ‘em in the attic. It’s a jungle out there! I’m serious. I have a report before me from the University of North Carolina warning about a kiddies’ minefield that your offspring may be playing in right now. Yes, I’m talking about ‘the beach’. Did you know that beach-goers who innocently build sandcastles or fill pails with beach sand are 13 per cent more likely to suffer a stomach ailment – and 20 per cent more likely to get diarrhea? Are you one of those sun idolaters who mindlessly let their kids bury each other up to their nostrils in sand? Loser. The study says your kids have a 24 per cent better chance of suffering gastro-intestinal distress than that sensible family in their Sunday church clothes whose feet never leave the boardwalk. Meanwhile, your kids might as well be playing Russian roulette with a Glock nine mil. As Chris Heaney, the study’s lead author, so wisely warns us, “the beach is not a sterile environment”. Who knew? It’s not just the beach of course. Kiddy traps lurk everywhere, just waiting to snare the unwary. That’s why school kids in Chicago recently got to sit through a 20- minute lecture on the dangers of the hula hoop. Meanwhile, an elementary school in Attleboro, Massachusetts has prudently banned the game of tag on schoolgrounds because, as the principal points out, “accidents can happen”. He’s right – and they can happen anywhere. That’s why it’s now possible to buy lid locks for your toilet seats (what if little Ashton or Kimberly fell in and drowned?). There is also a market for tiny gloves and mini-kneepads specifically designed to protect your wee ones during their first crawling experience across that perilous, hazard-strewn, bacteria-ridden war zone also known as the living room floor... Just nutty Americans, you think? Think again. Last month the chief medical officer for the Vancouver Island Health Authority went public about the dangers of… Roasting marshmallows. Doctor Richard Stanwick counsels that children sitting around a campfire should: 1. Apply hand sanitizer before selecting a marshmallow 2. Sterilize their roasting twig before impaling marshmallow thereon 3. Use clean tissue to carefully remove carbon from twig 4. Put clean marshmallow on clean stick with clean hand and proceed Hold it! The doctor’s not finished! He also warns to be wary of ingesting molten marshmallows. “If there’s a flame coming out of it, it’s probably too hot,” he says. Ya think, doc? I’ll tell you what Lenore Skenazy thinks – she thinks it’s all paranoid bunk. Ms Skenazy rocketed into the Parental Hall of Infamy a couple of years ago by allowing her nine-year-old son to ride the subway across New York City – gasp – all by himself. The kid came through fine, but the mother was crucified in the media for her perfidy. Critics branded her “America’s Worst Mom”. Some recommended she lose custody of her children. Ms Skenazy’s response? She snorted and flipped the flibbertigibbets a New York bird. In fact, she wrote a book called Free Range Kids: Giving Our Children the Freedom We Had Without Going Nuts with Worry. Our children, she writes, are a lot tougher and savvier than we give them credit for. She also points out that despite what we read and hear we are living in what is “factually, statistically…one of the safest periods for children in the history of the world”. Problem is, that’s not what we’re told when we open the newspaper, turn on the radio or watch the news at eleven. Her advice is refreshingly common sensical: turn off the news, she says. Boycott baby knee pads. “Walk through the baby safety department of a store with your oldest living relative asking, ‘which of these things did you need?’” Ms Skenazy is right of course. She says it well, but a chap named Robert Cody said it best: “Have the courage to live,” he advised, “anybody can die.” He’s right too. You want security? Climb into a pine box. Get some friends to nail it shut and lower it six feet underground. Sprinkle liberally with sod – even beach sand if you like. You’ll be absolutely safe down there. Arthur Black Other Views Let the kids live a little No newcomer seeking election to the legislature in years has attracted as much attention as a newspaper columnist running for the Progressive Conservatives in a by-election here on Sept. 17. But this is not the surest indication of merit. Sue-Ann Levy, who covered city hall for the Toronto Sun for 11 years, is running in the midtown St. Paul’s riding vacated by former Liberal cabinet minister Michael Bryant. The Conservative Party is so keen to have her its president announced she is its candidate without waiting for a nomination meeting at which others could put their names forward. The Sun, which has never been shy about promoting its own, said Premier Dalton McGuinty and his Liberals are “scared,” because Levy is tireless, afraid of no one and fights for the underdog. The Toronto Star, which supports the Liberals, said Levy is scrappy and hard-hitting and the Liberals fear she is “a dream candidate” who could win and hurt their image. A different picture of Levy emerges from her columns. Her reach has extended as far as provincial politics. She has called McGuinty “car-hating,” because he wants to extend public transit, and said he and Toronto Mayor David Miller are “cozy as two pigs in poop” on this issue, on which many will support the premier and mayor. Levy criticized McGuinty for giving Toronto power to levy new taxes and Miller for using it, although it has long been recognized the city lacked revenue sources, reliance on property taxes provides inequities and a level of government that spends money should take responsibility for raising it. Levy is not always a fighter for those without power. She scoffed that agencies which go out on frigid nights and distribute blankets, food and a few words of comfort to people living on the streets, merely want to be trendy and “give the hardcore homeless the tools to stay on the streets.” This sounds like the former far-right Conservative premier, Mike Harris, who said in the 1990s many live on the streets because they choose to, ignoring the many factors that put and keep people out of their homes. Harris’s views, which offended many, are now back in style under the Conservatives’ new leader, Tim Hudak, and Levy will feel comfortable among them. But Levy is best known for attacking, relentlessly and unceasingly, Toronto’s mayor, who no doubt deserves some of it. Miller, a Harvard graduate, brought an intelligence to the job that was lacking in previous years and earlier ran unsuccessfully for the New Democrats. Levy’s columns have lashed Miller day after day, particularly on the theme he spends too much. They lack understanding that the demands for, and costs of, city services are increasing. Her columns are short on reasoned, constructive criticism and long on name- calling and mainly a stream of epithets directed at Miller and those around him. She rails at Socialist Silly Hall, His Blondness, His Blond Locks, King David and his loyal henchmen, David and his lapdogs, the spendaholic mayor, the socialist mayor and his minions, the socialists and their feckless leader, and the childish brats in Miller’s regime who refuse to get their house in order. Any humour in these wears off long before you read them for the 100th time. Levy constantly quotes Miller’s opponents at city hall, lobbies representing business and the right-wing Canadian Taxpayers Federation. You would have to search hard to find any that criticize business. She almost never finds anyone who has a good word to say about the mayor, although such people should not be hard to find. Miller has won two elections comfortably and there must be reasons people support him, but Levy has never told them. Smart voters eventually will see someone who tells only one side of a story as too biased to believe and the Liberals could win if they could get enough people to read this candidate’s columns. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk It’s your idea of perfection. Above you, sky blue lightly embroidered with lacy clouds. The sun beams a cheery mood on you, while a whispering breeze softly fans the heat away. There is music, much to look at and good conversation. The annual pilgrimage to Moparfest in New Hamburg was made recently and as much as it is about looking at the classic beauties on display there, it is also a time for networking with acquaintances and making new ones. When you love all things Chrysler this is a good place to find friends of like mind. Look ahead a few weeks to another big event, this one closer to home. As I prepared for the annual Thresher Reunion issue published by The Citizen, I spoke to a number of people with long-time connections to the show. And a common theme played out in our discussions. “It’s about the socializing, making friends who like the same things I do.” Sharing a love or interest in something, having the same tastes, enjoying the same things is certainly a good basis on which to start a friendship. And maintaining those connections will certainly keep it strong. However, there is probably no better friendship than that of a good solid marriage. So isn’t it curious that they are often begun on the attraction of opposites. A case in point? My guy and me, who on many levels couldn’t possibly be any more different. For Mark the day begins with sunshine — bold, beaming and boisterous. And I, after dragging myself out of bed, would like nothing better than to gag this morning merrymaker and lock him in a closet. He chatters, I have nothing to say. He shakes off any lingering morning doldrums with loud music. All I want is silence. Funnily enough by evening, he’s often the cranky pants while just in time for bed, I’m ready to finally enjoy my day. In between these hours, the times we demonstrate our dissimilarities are endless. For starters, I, the control freak, the non-risk taker who finds fun in a quiet corner with a good book and a glass of wine, am married to an adrenaline junkie who loves fast cars, snowmobiles and rollercoasters. Socially, I’m at my best one-on-one but Mark loves big parties and meeting new faces. I could go see a movie at least every week. Unfortunately, my date isn’t interested. Not even with the weather do we find common ground. When thunder strikes, it’s only me running for cover with the dog. Mark loves a howling wind; they unsettle me. He hates the heat; I crave it. But what makes this unproblematic is that it’s all inconsequential; the stuff of petty annoyances on occasion, but nothing to take too seriously. There are small interests we share of course; for instance a love of music and old cars, and a shared disinterest in spending money on extensive travel. But even without these it wouldn’t matter. Mark and I love to laugh — often — finding humour in the things that sneak up on you rather than those that hit you over the head. Interestingly many of the laughs come as a result of our contrary traits. Also, there is the reality that for both of us nothing comes before a commitment to family. Everyone knows that common interests are important between best friends. But long- marrieds know too that keeping the relationship strong over decades also means having a sense of humour and an open mind about the differences. Candidate for by-election misrepresented Yeah, we’re different 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.