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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2008-09-11, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2008. PAGE 5.Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt When autumn’s here Last Saturday morning I found myself half way up the side of a mountain – not Himalayan-scale, but creditable. I wasn’t swinging across crevasses or sucking on oxygen cylinders but I was up there, alright. High enough to be looking down at the backs of bald eagles soaring below me; high enough to watch popcorn balls of cloud scudding through a stand of fir at eye level across a valley. I was well beyond the urban grid and the telephone wires, up there on my high lonesome, a couple of hours walk from my fellow man and all of his works. So I did what any intrepid, pioneering explorer type deep in the wilderness – Thor Heyerdahl, Sir Edmond Hillary, Stanley Livingstone – would have done in my situation. I whipped out my cell phone, called up my local bookstore and reserved a Saturday copy of the Globe and Mail. Cheap thrill? Sure, I guess. But I’m an old guy – so old I actually remember the great grandfather of that slim little lozenge I was holding to my ear up that mountain. Anybody else out there remember Citizens Band radio? Seems ludicrous now, but 30 years ago the modern cell phone was as unreachable and futuristic as Mister Spock’s phaser. What we had instead were black and shiny hand-held microphones attached by curlicue cords to the underside of our dashboards. It was called CB (for Citizens Band) radio and yes, you did require that one extra component in order to be a dyed-in-the-ether CB-er. You needed an automobile. Or, ideally, an articulated 10-ton semi. CBs began life as the preferred means of communication for North American long-haul truck drivers. Those guys used their CBs to keep in touch with fellow truckers on the job. In its early stages of its evolution, CB radio was actually useful. Truckers could warn fellow knights of the road about blizzards, washouts, rock slides and traffic jams up ahead. Not to mention government inspectors, radar traps and cute waitresses. CB wasn’t just a communications device, it was a cultural phenomenon. A CB ‘slanguage’ sprang up. Cops weren’t cops; they were ‘smokeys’or ‘bears’. (a ‘smokey on four legs’ was a Mountie). Instead of ‘hello’ a CB-er said ‘Come on’ with an interrogative lilt at the end. As in: “Toledo Ted, this here’s Ruptured Rabbit, come on?’ That was the other thing about the CB culture. You couldn’t just be Fred or Tony. You had to give yourself a ‘handle’ like Winnipeg Willie or Saskatoon Slim. CB even inspired a Top Ten song – Convoy, a mawkish, talkin’-country saga about a bunch of rebellious truckers fed up with paying exorbitant highway tolls. Sample lyric: I could see the bridge was lined with bears but I didn’t have a doggone dime. I sez Pig Pen, this here’s the Rubber Duck, we just ain’t a-gonna pay no toll. Oh, yeah – and to be really authentic, you had to make yourself sound like a Tennessee hillbilly – lots of ‘This here’s” and “a- gonna’s”. Sounds ridiculously hokey and maybe it was, but CB seemed to work just fine when it was solely the purview of the burly, flat- bummed jockeys of tanker trucks and big cargo rigs. It sounded painfully dumb when high school kids in their dad’s station wagons or accountants in Audis tried it on. There were technical problems too. Solar flares, for some reason, played hell with CB reception, as did the sheer onslaught of millions of fad-chasing amateurs who clambered aboard the CB bandwagon in the late 70s and early 80s. Reception was unpredictable and haphazard under normal conditions. Hordes of day-trippers swamping the airwaves just made it worse. In the end CB proved to be the technological equivalent of a dinosaur with glass ankles. It collapsed of its own weight. Just as well. I’m a certified technophobe but when I compare those old, clunky CB units and the phoney, mock-jock Good Ol’ Boy personas that went with them to the modern mobile phone, a wire-free gizmo smaller than a deck of cards that can take pictures, send e- mails, download Seinfeld episodes AND allow me to talk with crystal clarity to my cousin in Mississauga or an old school buddy in Melbourne, Australia – even I have to admit that some technological advances are – to quote my Melbourne buddy – bloody marvellous, mate. And that’s a ten-four, good buddy. Arthur Black Other Views So long CB, may you R.I.P. Premier Dalton McGuinty fired a minister last fall and he must be wondering if he did the right thing. The minister, Steve Peters, has come back to haunt him. Peters had been minister of agriculture and later labour. McGuinty dropped him and some others not because they had done anything spectacularly wrong, but because he was anxious to bring in some new blood. Peters promptly ran for Speaker of the legislature, whose main role is to referee its debates, and won because some fellow-Liberal MPPs voted for him, recognizing he has abilities and is likeable. They were supported by Progressive Conservatives and New Democrats who had the added incentive he might want to get his own back on the premier. Peters is now doing just that. While the legislature has been adjourned for the summer, one of its committees has begun looking at new rules McGuinty imposed on it in the spring, which he claimed would help it run better, but clearly benefit his Liberals. Peters has now spoken up strongly against them and as the impartial Speaker he carries some weight. The most troubling has been the Liberals’ move of the question period, in which ministers have to defend themselves, from 1:30 p.m. to 10:45 a.m., on the claim this corresponds to most others’working hours and would enable MPPs to get home more with their families. But it gives the Liberals a big advantage, because the opposition parties base most of their questions on events late the previous day and reports in morning newspapers and the earlier start allows them little time to digest, research and prepare questions. The Liberals have had fun, jeering the opposition parties are not willing to get up in the morning and work. Peters told the committee he will do as the legislature directs him, but read a letter from the Association of Management, Administrative and Professional Crown Employees of Ontario, whose members help write, edit and co-ordinate briefing notes and other material used by ministers in question period, saying they have had to change their lifestyles to accommodate the earlier start. They said they have been able and willing to do this for what essentially has been a two months’trial period, but could not provide this on a continuing, permanent basis particularly over a long session that could produce more contentious issues and more legislation. Peters recalled when he was a minister his personal staff first talked over issues he might be questioned on, then met the association’s bureaucrats to discuss them further. Some days it was a problem to have well-researched answers ready for even the 1.30 p.m. question period, he said. Peters urged the committee to consider the concerns of the public employees and said it would be unfortunate if changes the government said were aimed to make the legislature more family-friendly for MPPs ended up impairing the personal and family lives of public servants. The Speaker added that fewer people have been watching from the public galleries since the time for question period has changed, which should concern government, because all parties have said over many years they would like to see more residents taking an interest in the legislature. Peters, from a western Ontario riding, joined other opposition MPPs who complain the earlier starts mean they can no longer drive to Toronto early Monday morning, for instance, to start their week at the legislature, but have to leave home the night before and miss events in their home areas they and their constituents would like them to attend. Peters also said organizations that come to Queen’s Park to talk to MPPs, typically by holding early-evening receptions, have told him fewer MPPs attend them since the legislature stopped sitting at night and they feel they are losing contact with the politicians. Peters’criticisms of the Liberal rule changes are justified and he is not merely taking revenge on McGuinty for firing him – but it must be sweet. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk It’s odd isn’t it? Balmy summer-like conditions will often carry into September; just look back to last week for proof of that. And officially autumn is still more than a week away. Yet, the waning days, the murky twilights presage the dark, stark months ahead. Don’t get me wrong. I like the fall with its paint-splattered collage of colour, its crisp air and somber evenings. And though I hate winter driving, and thus the isolation that comes as a result of not wanting to drive, I do appreciate the season’s pristinely pale palette. There’s not much that’s prettier than sunlight sparkling on snow. As always, though, I find myself reluctant to let go of summer. Long days reading on the deck, trips to the beach and time with family are only part of the reason. The incredible vibrancy of the season is the other. The other evening, for the first time in a hectic few weeks, I decided to go for a walk. Despite the humidity and heat, autumn was in the air. There was a heaviness with dusk’s earlier arrival and I felt a little sad. Then as I strolled through the park I was literally awestruck by the beauty of the memorial gardens. The sight was so spellbinding that I turned back twice to admire. It was even sadder for me to realize the splendour would soon be over. Summer is the best time of the year, and of life. The seasons have often been equated with life and age. And there’s a reason for that. Spring is about newness and awakening. Things begin and grow, develop and strive to become all they can be. It is the start of life, the tender years when the kind of nurturing you receive can determine how you will progress. Summer is full bloom, that time in life when you know what promise there is in you, when physically things should be as good as they get if you care for yourself properly. It is colour and light, warmth and energy. In autumn there is still much to look forward to. Like the colours that adorn the trees, it is a spectacular time of life. Things become vivid, more focused. It is a season of bounty. Certainly there is nostalgia, but contentment in the richness that comes with aging. And winter? Well.. Writers and poets, like John Steinbeck, who speaks of its discontent, and Robert Burns don’t exactly sing its praises. “My trunk of eild, but buss or beild, Sinks in Time's wintry rage.” Sadly there are those for whom this time is a maelstrom of misery, hope and health as uncertain as a snowbelt blizzard. But there can be beauty to these years, should relatively good health continue to accompany it. The golden years may bring silver to the hair, but they also hold a wealth of experiences. They aren’t bleak, but time for reflective repose. Just as winter often forces us to slow down, life demands little of us in old age. Few would argue that the weariness one might feel wasn’t earned, therefore rest is encouraged. As this next season approaches, co- incidentally, I am in the autumn of my life. In that reality there is no yearning for summer. Sure, it would be welcome to have the old metabolism back, to lose the new aches and pains that decided to stop by, then stayed. Yet, I look back at the blessings of my spring and summer, not with longing, but fondly. What they held has given me this autumn, which, though it seems to be buzzing by just a bit too quickly, is one I’m content with. Fired minister gets his revenge 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. 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