HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2008-09-25, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2008. PAGE 5.
Bonnie
Gropp
TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt
My Adelines
W hen the French man the barricades
the atmosphere is likely to become
festive.
– William Bennett, New York Times
Well, I don’t know about you, but I kind of
admire the concept of festive non-belligerence
in a nation.
I grew up in a world horsewhipped and boot
stomped by WW II and the Korean and
Vietnam dust-ups, not to mention
conflagrations, implosions, eruptions and
drive-by martial thuggery in Laos, Cambodia,
Pakistan, Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, East
Timor, Granada, Panama, Argentina, Bosnia,
Rwanda, Kosovo, New York, London, Madrid,
Somalia, Afghanistan, Iraq…
Have I missed any? Several, no doubt.
Our pummeled planet has not been
noticeably improved by any of it.
Which brings us back to France, a country
that does great cheese, superb wine, brilliant
philosophers and splendid artistes…
But warriors they ain’t. It was a
characteristic noted more than a thousand
years ago, when a Viking marauder named
Ragnar Lothbrok took 5,000 men on 120 ships
and noodled up the Seine to see what he could
plunder.
The year was 845 when Ragnar stepped
ashore at what would one day be Paris, idly
twirling his berserker axe. He was met by a
nervous emissary from the Gaulish king,
Charles the Bald.
The emissary had several heavy chests in
tow and a proposal from his boss. Would his
Vikingness be so kind as to accept a – well,
bribe is such an ugly word – a gift, say, of
7,000 pounds in gold and silver to simply –
you know – disappear?
Ragnar took the loot and sailed away. He
later told a Norse chronicler that he had “never
seen lands so fertile and rich, nor ever a people
so cowardly”.
Hold on, Ragnar – cowardly? How about
prudent? Vikings were the human Rottweilers
of the age. They lived to die in battle – and
they were superb at both battling and dying.
The French could have resisted. They would
surely have lost – not only their castles,
homes, farms and livestock, but their gizzards
– plus everything that wasn’t nailed down.
Avoiding such a fate for a modest tonnage of
gold and silver (neither of which can be eaten,
drunk or made love to) looks positively
brilliant to me.
The rest of the world disagreed and the
‘pussified’ rap has followed Chuckie the
Bald’s folk down through the ages.
But to be honest, the French have not always
distinguished themselves on the battlefield –
especially with gambits like the Maginot Line,
a massive concrete fortification built by the
French between the Great Wars at jaw-
dropping expense. Its sole purpose: to repel
Germans invading from the east.
Would have worked too, if the Germans
hadn’t simply marched around the ends of the
line and captured it from behind.
Then there was the unseemly haste with
which the French caved in to the Germans in
the Second World War. French collaborators
cobbled together a Nazi-friendly government
headquartered in Vichy almost before the
German troops had goose-stepped up the
Champs Elysee.
That French eagerness to please inspired a
memorable skewer from Welsh wit Ivor
Novello: “There’s something Vichy about the
French.”
Contemporary critics of French reluctance
to ‘get involved’ in matters military have been
no kinder. When then-French president
Jacques Chirac declined to commit French
troops to the war in Iraq, the American press
was merciless. The New York Post ran a front
page photo of a chimpanzee wearing Chirac’s
face under the headline FRENCH
SURRENDER MONKEYS URGE U S. TO
GIVE UP.
The U.S. government was even more
mature. Congressmen actually voted to
rename side dishes in the Congressional
dining room. French toast became Freedom
Toast, Naturally, that came with Freedom
Fries.
American military types have not been
noticeably gentler in their assessment of the
French. General George Patton commanded
the US tank corps during the First World War.
Later, he grumped, “I’d rather have a German
division in front of me than a French one
behind me”.
A half century later US General Norman
Schwartzkopf was even more scathing. “Going
to war without France,” he said, “is like going
deer hunting without your accordion.”
But then another famous warrior once
observed: “Had not innumerable soldiers shed
their blood, there would have been no
Hellenism, no Roman civilization, no
Christianity, no Rights of Man and no modern
developments.”
Now who said that – Alexander the Great?
Attila the Hun? Rommel? Montgomery?
Nope. A chap by the name of Charles de
Gaulle. Kind of explains the famous Gallic
shrug, n’est-ce pas?
Arthur
Black
Other Views La Guerre? No, Monsieur!
Premier Dalton McGuinty should have
been a bank manager. When money is
tight, he makes it available to those who
already have plenty and ushers others out of
the door.
The Liberal premier has conceded at a time
when economic growth and revenue have
slowed he does not have money he needs to
fulfill all his promises.
So he has offered generous pay increases to
doctors and public elementary school teachers,
who in addition to being reasonably well off
have political power, and delayed his plans to
help the poor, who have none.
McGuinty has offered doctors pay raises
that will total 12.25 per cent over the next four
years, which is much more than most residents
can look forward to.
He has insisted this is fair, particularly
because it will encourage existing doctors to
stay and attract new ones needed because of
the current shortage.
Doctors make it impossible to know how
much the average doctor will earn, because in
the statistics they put out they include many,
particularly older doctors, who work only
part-time and make their average income
appear less.
A case can be made doctors deserve all they
get, particularly if they do their essential job
well, although there is evidence some do not.
But do they deserve it more than others?
The province has offered a 12 per cent pay
increase over four years to the elementary
teachers that will raise their maximum salary
to a giddy $94,000 a year, adding new
incentive to the common advice those who
want a good job should stay in school.
McGuinty says this is all the province can
afford, but he does not need to apologize to the
teachers, who deserve admiration, because
theirs is a tough and valuable job. But most
Ontarians will feel McGuinty, who has been
trying hard to make himself known as `the
education premier’has stretched to the limit in
looking after teachers.
McGuinty is particularly anxious not to
offend doctors, who quietly reach for their
scalpels when negotiating for pay, because he
has more than 500,000 residents unable to find
a family doctor and hopes to persuade existing
doctors to take on more.
No one also wants to return to the days when
a Progressive Conservative government had a
schoolyard fight with teachers daily, but
Ontarians are having to pay higher prices for
peace in education than they expected.
Teachers have been found to miss an
average 12 days a year through sickness, more
than the average for most categories of worker,
although they work only 10 months a year.
Taxpayers have been spending $260 million
a year on replacements, but the premier still
has not said how he will make sure teachers
attend school more.
McGuinty also has done nothing to reduce
the practice of school boards hiring retired
teachers first when they need replacements.
The retired teachers commonly collect
pensions of more than $40,000 a year.
Apart from the unfairness, this prevents
newly-trained teachers, including many from
visible minorities attracted to and needed by
the profession and others who can work only
part-time for reasons including being single
parents, obtain a foothold in their profession.
Other public workers who have immense
political clout have been collecting more
money without hindrance from McGuinty.
Police and firefighters have sought and
obtained so-called “retention pay,” extra
bonuses to stay in their jobs rather than move
to neighbouring jurisdictions.
Some municipalities are being forced to pay
police and firefighters twice as much as their
average residents earn, although firefighters
commonly have the perquisite of cramming
their workweek into a few days at the station
and spending the rest of the time renovating
homes.
The embattled Progressive Conservative
leader, John Tory, has urged McGuinty to
demand municipalities be more prudent and
offer them incentives to do so, but the premier
will not tread on their toes.
McGuinty also promised a “war on poverty,”
but instead will settle mildly for comforting
the comfortable.
Eric
Dowd
FFrroomm
QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk
Resplendent in satin and sequins they
took the stage, stepping proudly into
place on the risers, beaming smiles
frozen in place. No one beyond the lights could
see the fast fluttering heartbeats, nor feel the
slight queasiness, the shortened breath. These
were the subtle signs of nervousness they had
learned to cover well.
A moment, and then... The pipe blew, the
director’s arms rose and the four-part chord
began the music that had become a passion for
this group.
Just over 30 years ago I was a young, stay-at-
home mom. Happy to be there, but in need of
some kind of outside stimulation. My world
was one of diapers and Sesame Street and
while it was a satisfying one, there was little I
did for myself.
Then one day, my mother convinced me to
come out for an evening with this choral group
she belonged to. Tagging along with no small
degree of reluctance I eventually found myself
in a room listening as some 40 women sang
with gusto old familiar, and not familiar
standards.
To a young 20-something, the music was
hokey, the emphasis being given to the learning
and performing a little too serious. But then
invited to join in, I was won over. High school
now in the past, I’d forgotten how good it felt
to sing, sing, sing, in harmony with others. It
was a high, and I was addicted.
For 20 years I belonged to Sweet Adelines,
not just singing in the chorus but as a member
of a quartet. Some of the best friendships I’ve
ever had have been with girls I came to know
during those years. Some of my greatest
memories are because of them.
We travelled to music schools, competed,
provided entertainment at countless local
events and did our own shows. There was
choreography, costuming, public relations,
sales and of course, the music to worry about.
I had needed something to add to my world of
formula and potty training and I got it.
Despite that, the day the decision was made
to disband the chorus, I can’t say my heart was
broken. I knew I’d miss the camaraderie and
the music, but I no longer needed extra activity
in my life. With a full-time job already taking
time from my family, Sweet Adelines had
become one more demand.
But there was also the interaction with
women, those friendships, the talks and
understanding that go with them, the sharing of
a common interest. These were a little more
difficult to let go.
My quartet continued to get together
periodically to rehearse and perform but it
began to feel a bit like beating a dead horse and
eventually we quit.
For a time, I was able to stay in touch with
the closest friends I had made, which was nice.
But there’s no escaping the reality that people
and situations change. Relationships broke,
locations switched, lives ended.
Several years ago, one of those dearest to me
lost her life to cancer. At her funeral there was
a lot of chatter about getting together, seeing
each other again and remembering. It didn’t
happen until this past weekend.
Oddly enough, or perhaps there’s a certain
symmetry to it, I had about as much
enthusiasm for attending as I did that first time
30 years ago. Again, it was with my mom with
whom I walked in the door, again primarily
because I felt it was something she wanted me
to do.
And again, I’m glad it happened. They were,
after all once among the flowers of my heart
those Adelines.
McGuinty helps better-off
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