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The Citizen, 2009-09-17, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2009. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt T he guy looked harmless enough. A geezer, obviously, somewhat shabbily dressed, but skinny as a hockey stick and hardly menacing. Still, what was he doing, prowling around this low-income New Jersey neighbourhood, peering at houses? The cops in the cruiser decided not to take any chances. They gave him a couple of squawks on the car siren, came out both doors and confronted the perp. “Police officers,” said the lead constable. “What is your name, sir?” “Bob Dylan,” the stranger replied. The standard response from most cops here would be ‘Oh, a wise guy.’ – but this was an exceedingly young cop. Her second question was, “Okay, sir, what are you doing here?” “Uh, I’m on tour,” the geezer said. Yup, it was the real Bob Dylan interacting with a cop young enough to be his great granddaughter. (“I don’t think she was familiar with the entire body of his work,” a superior officer reflected wryly). Not surprising. The cop was 24 years old. Dylan’s pushing 70. The New Jersey intervention was merely the latest geezer/rocker report but you can expect to hear more. There are an awful lot of long- toothed musical legends roaming around out there. Consider: Dylan’s 68; Mick Jagger’s 66. Joe Cocker? Sixty-four. Then of course there’s Crosby (67), Stills (64) and Nash (67). Not to mention Canada’s ageless Troubadour of Love, Leonard Cohen – 74 and holding. Not only holding, but touring. With a vengeance. Every last rheumatic, arthritic, sclerotic, wrinkled and wizened one of them. They’re out there on the road somewhere tonight, up on stages in concert halls and coffee houses singing and strumming as if they were teenagers. Which most of them haven’t been for about a half a century. I remember when Pierre Berton wrote a regular column in The Toronto Daily Star back in the ’70s. Each December he would publish his New Year’s forecast in which he would confidently predict, year after year, that next year – finally – that musical abomination known as Rock and Roll would achieve its richly deserved demise and disappear forever. Pierre Berton died; Rock rolls on. And on. Perhaps that’s because Rock and Roll’s already a lot older than we realized. Doctor Rupert Till, a university professor in York, England has been poking around the ruins of Stonehenge for the past few years. He now posits the theory that the prehistoric monument on the Salisbury plain was not the religious shrine, burial ground or astronomical observatory some think it was. Stonehenge, says the prof, may well have been the world’s first ‘rave’ arena. Professor Rupert conducted some complicated experiments using acoustical measuring instruments on a life-size replica of Stonehenge constructed in Washington with all the stones intact. “We managed to get the whole space to resonate,” he says, “almost like a wineglass if you run your finger round it. While that was happening a simple drumbeat sounded incredibly dramatic.” Stonehenge a Neolithic Woodstock? Who knows? Maybe some of the skeletal remains found there belonged to scalpers and groupies. All I know is, Rock and Roll shows no signs of lying down and dying yet. And neither does Bob Dylan, for that matter. The news recently leaked out that the Bard of Hibbing is planning to release – please God, make this some computer geek’s warped idea of online humour – an album of Christmas music. Dylan croaking out Hark the Herald Angels Sing? The man’s been everything from a hippie to a hard-line Zionist to a Jesus Freak. Can’t wait to hear what he brings to Frosty the Snowman. Elsewhere on the pop music front, it’s been announced that yet another geriatric world celebrity, Joe Ratzinger, has signed with Geffen Records and is working on his Christmas album. It’ll be his first release, but music execs are expecting big things because the work will play to a built-in audience base: the Catholic Church. The album will be called Alma Mater. Mister Ratzinger, AKA Pope Benedict XVI, is 82. Arthur Black Other Views Hope I record before I get old T he trials of Michael Bryant are forcing Ontario’s ruling Liberals to take another look at who they will choose to succeed Premier Dalton McGuinty and they cannot feel encouraged by what they see. Bryant, the former attorney general who left McGuinty’s cabinet still with a burning ambition to succeed the premier and considered by most the front-runner, faces charges of criminal negligence causing death and dangerous operation of a vehicle after his car had a run-in with a bicycle courier. He may well be acquitted, but a party will be wary of choosing a leader who has even faced such an allegation, when other aspirants for the job have not. The premier’s job is not vacant and McGuinty has said he will continue to lead in the 2011 election, but every previous premier insisted he was not leaving until he formally made the announcement, to avoid being a lame duck. But whether McGuinty leaves before or soon after 2011, Bryant would have been seen as either the leading or one of the leading candidates to succeed him. He showed his ambition not merely through ability and hard work that was commendable, but his eagerness to grab headlines and latterly express views different from McGuinty’s. But it always seemed unlikely the Liberals would pick Bryant, because he was consistently too aggressive and angry, some of which has come out in the incident that led to his arrest. Bryant in and around the legislature was invariably intense, fighting or ready to fight, unable to relax, poke mild fun at, joke with, or even compliment opponents, as most members of all parties sometimes do. This is a contrast to all other recent premiers, John Robarts, William Davis, Frank Miller, David Peterson, Bob Rae, even the mostly rough-and-tough Mike Harris, and Ernie Eves, who were able to speak without, in every word, denouncing opponents. Ontarians generally have chosen premiers with whom they felt comfortable and comfort was not a quality Bryant exuded. The potential successors to McGuinty mostly will not strike fear in the hearts of Progressive Conservatives and New Democrats. Deputy Premier George Smitherman has skills that include a quick grasp of complexity, but clearly is more interested in running for mayor of Toronto. This may be because he is openly gay and feels this would be an obstacle in seeking votes across Ontario, although it has not been tested. But he also is handicapped by being unacceptably impatient with dissenters, demonstrated particularly when he was health minister and nicknamed Furious George. Finance Ministers generally are considered potential contenders for leader and Dwight Duncan has been mostly a tower of strength in that post, first during an emergency and later in a more permanent role, although he may have to take blame for the harmonized, more pervasive sales tax. But he lacked personal appeal in the leadership race McGuinty won and modestly has acknowledged himself “the non-sexy MPP from Windsor.” Municipal Affairs Minister Jim Watson consistently is named among possible leaders, but has shown no enthusiasm for dealing with heavyweight problems, such as those of downtowns in small urban areas, and his skill mainly has been offering lightweight, witty asides. A woman would be almost mandatory in any race and the most formidable in cabinet is Education Minister Kathleen Wynne, who has the achievement of having defeated then Conservative leader John Tory in his attempt to win a Toronto seat that would have been invaluable to his party, but she also is gay. The Liberals’ best prospects may lie in a little known minister, John Wilkinson, an MPP only since 2003, who is bright and polished enough that McGuinty plucked him from the back benches first to persuade industry to get more innovative and later to sell his harmonized sales tax, on which the Liberals may live or die. Wilkinson is the only Liberal currently in line who has the qualities of being both smart and comforting and this is what the party should be looking for. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk The big day had arrived. The early hours brought the promise of perfection, blue skies, sunshine, pleasant temperatures, warm with just the right bite of crispness in the air to turn thoughts to autumn. And with the dawning of the morning came excitement, an energy and enthusiasm barely contained, building in anticipation for what was to come. After days and days of practising, preparing and perfecting, the moment to take centre stage was nigh. Today was the annual fall fair day and with it the school parade. I still remember vividly leaving our classrooms, which we had only just entered for the start of a new school year, and heading out en masse to work on our marching technique. The lush, green lawn, the hundreds of bodies clambering into formation, by grade, by height, and with the hopes that a friend would be nearby. Not that the last point mattered because talking was strictly prohibited. This was serious stuff. Chattering could bring anything in those days from a stern reprimand, to humiliation to worst-case scenario (remember, life was different then) a cuff on the back of the head. Also, we really did march, not walk. And as that obviously wasn’t typical, keeping time was drilled over and over again. Well-rehearsed, we met at the school on fair day and in regimental style made our way to the fairgrounds, Locals lined main street to watch as we strutted through town, past the snickering high school students (a degrading state of affairs for Grade 8s) before finally taking our orderly place for the opening ceremonies. Decades later, I had arrived in Brussels and was among those lining the streets to watch, with all the other proud parents, my little guy march in his first fall fair parade. It’s a tradition that has existed for generations, recognizing the importance of student participation in this annual agricultural event. And this year, as I think of the potential closures of schools in Blyth and East Wawanosh, and the almost assured next on the chopping block, Brussels, I have to wonder what it will mean for this customary fall celebration. The Avon Maitland District School Board in its accommodation review has proposed construction of a kindergarten to Grade 6 school for students from the first two schools, plus Turnberry and Wingham. Senior grades would be sent to F.E. Madill. It has been indicated that Brussels students would eventually be added to this, however, that school is also now being reviewed with a group that includes Grey, Listowel and Wallace. One can only assume it will be the end of the student parade for sure. Certainly, parents can keep kids home on fair days, but it’s unlikely the school administration will see fit to have all students involved in something that means little to many of them, nor will they spend time with a portion of the population to prepare them for an event in their community while others sit in class. With this connection lost it’s inevitable that the entries in the schoolwork categories will probably decline and along with it, the interest in the fair, beyond the midway for a new generation. It’s been said over and over lately, and will be said over and over again, that the board doesn’t care what the loss of a school does to a community. And losing the involvement with the fair is yet one more disconnect from our rural roots. Leadership race sees changes Our rural roots 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. 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