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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1989-12-22, Page 5THE CITIZEN, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22. 1989. PAGE 5. I® How well off are we? BY RAYMOND CANON Have you ever noticed when you have gone to another country that, after you have exchanged your Canadian dollars for the local currency, the cost of living may seem to be higher or lower than it is in Canada? To show you what I mean, when I was living in Spain, 1 found that I could go out and get a haircut that was every bit as good as I would get elsewhere but it only cost me the equivalent of 12 cents in Canadian money. Even allowing for inflation since that time, you can well imagine how cheap living in Spain The International Scene must have seemed for me. On the other hand, when I was in Kuwait, I found that everything, or almost everything, was considerably high­ er priced than it was here. Thus, when we take a look at the standard of living in other countries and compare it with what we have here, we have to be very careful with any conclusion to which we may come. The exchange rate may be so out of line that it distorts the true picture to the point where no comparison is possible. 1 was reminded of all this when I recently looked at a publication put out by an economic research centre in Europe and which showed, at first sight, that the standard of living was considerably higher in Switzerland than it was in either the United States or Canada. When you read the fine print, it revealed that this was true only if you did your calculations on the basis of the current rate of exchange between the Swiss franc and the dollar in both Canada and the United States. When you did it on the basis of an exchange rate which would permit the same amount of goods to be purchased in both countries with the same amount of money, it was obvious that Switzerland did not have such a high standard of living after all; it was slightly below that of both Canada and the United States. Switzerland was not the only country in such a position. The same chart showed that, under current exchange rates, the stand­ ard of living would be higher in Norway, Iceland, Sweden, West Germany, Finland and Denmark than it was in Canada. When we returned, however, to a more accurate evaluation that I outlined above, it was easy to discover that all these countries were below, not above Canada in the standard of living. The only thing that Switzer­ land could claim was that the distortion was greater there than in the other countries. Whenever somebody asks me about the standard of living in other countries, I reply that there are other things that have to be taken into consideration besides how much the average wage is and how much it can buy. One impor­ tant question is how much political freedom the citizens of each coun­ try have. Kuwait, to cite one example, has one of the highest standards of living but it does not come within a country mile of having the same level of political freedom that Canadians enjoy. Kuwaitis do not have much in the way of national parliament and I wouldn’t be too excited about the amount of religious freedom either. While the Swiss may have scenery that is out of this world, those of us who are used to the remarkable amount of space that we have in Canada would run the risk of suffering an advanced case of claustrophobia when they contem­ plate the population density there compared with that in Canada. Even taxes can play a role in the standard of living. Sweden has long had the reputation of enjoying one of the highest standards of living in the world, especially when it comes to the quality of its social welfare program. What you do not hear is the fact that, on an average day in Swedish industry, no less than one in four workers is absent from his job. While illness undoubtedly is the cause of some of this absentee­ ism, some of it is due solely to the high tax rates in which are built disincentives to work. Not only that; the same tax rates also encourage widespread cheating. It is, therefore, not surprising that the Swedish government is taking a hard look at reforming the system. If I may digress for just a moment, the same goods and services tax that has so many people upset in Canada is a non-starter in Europe. Most coun­ tries have had it for some time and the population has become used to it. When I was in Germany last summer, I paid no less than 14 per cent on my hotel bill. In short, some countries may be cheap in comparison to Canadian prices but would you really want to live there? Just enjoy it as one of the unexpected benefits of travel. Letter from the editor Precious, priceless gifts BY KEITH ROULSTON Several years ago when the son who is now a strapping teenager was an energetic toddler, I wrote a column that many people have commented on over the years. The youngster is nearly fully grown now but the wishes remain the same. He went to bed hollering and screaming, fighting the last possi­ ble second the end of another day. He hurls his little body full blast all day long, going from one adventure to the next, sometimes at a rate that has his body travelling faster than his feet with painful results. He’s always traveling faster than his mother can keep up with. But by now he’s just a cuddly little 30-pound bundle of love, snuggled in one corner of his crib. So innocent. So sweet. So peaceful. So young. Two years old and a whole lifetime ahead. The television these days, spouts a never ending list of suggestions for Christmas for this precious young bundle, all shining and new and guaranteed to break down within a week, if not sooner. But if I could put the gifts on my Christmas list that I’d like to give him no matter what the price, I wouldn’t include any of these. My gifts would be free, but would be priceless. To you my son this Christmas, I would give the gift of always being able to see the world as the exciting place you find it now. So many of us grow old before our time, seeing only the sameness and dullness, missing altogether the fascinating things that take place around us all the time. We look at a field of hay and see just a field of hay, not the beauty of the clover blossom, not the hard work of the honey bee, pollinating the flowers, not the magic of the butterfly flitting over the green surface not the sound of the wind, rustling between the stalks. We grow used to things and take them for granted, and turn our fascinating world into a dull one. I hope you, my son, will be one of the fortunate few who will remain alive to the excitement of the world as you grow to manhood. To you my son this Christmas I would give the gift of love. May you always be able to give love as fully as you do now when you throw your chubby arms around my neck in a hug that nearly breaks a vertebrae. May you always be open to receiving love, just as you are now, to being able to put your full trust in someone you love, not holding back in fear of being betrayed. And may you have the good fortune to have that love and faith rewarded by someone who honours that faith, and returns love freely. To you my son this Christmas, T would wish that you may always keep that openness that now leads you to tell your mother all your deepest thoughts. What a better world this would be if people could truly communicate, not holding back for fear of being ridiculed or misunderstood. To you my son this Christmas, I would like to give the knowledge that in a world where everything seems to have a price tag, where a few more dollars will supposedly bring happiness, the best things in life are free. Never get caught up in the world to the point where you abandon the real things in search of the fantasies. A beautiful sunset will always be more precious than the most expensive painting and a seat under a tree on a hilltop worth far more than the most expensive piece of furniture. No money can buy music as rich as the wind sighing through pine needles or as relaxing as the lap of waves stroking a beach. Often in the hectic modern world, you’ll be tempted to forget these things, but my hope is that you would always be able to find the time to stop and rediscover the importance of na­ ture, and put your life in tune with its rhythms. To you my son on Christmas, I would give the knowledge that truth is one of the most important words in the English vocabulary. May you always be truthful to yourself as to others because if truth is forgotten, what is left? One of the gifts I would like to be able to give you is a sense of patience. It is so easy to become impatient with yourself, those you love and the world in general. So often things move so slowly and as we creep from day to day it seems little changes, little improves. But someday when you look back on your life, you’ll see how things really seemed to change so quickly. May you also have the ability to step above the day to day crisis, to know that the things that seem too urgent today will a day from now, a month from now or a year from now seem so unimportant. We create so much stress for ourselves because we become so wrapped up in our day-to-day troubles that we make them too important instead of realizing that we’ll always muddle through and tomorrow will be a better day. Column Legends add to Christmas season Old memories are fine but today’s are better BY BONNIE GROPP Christmas is indeed a special time. It’s magical, mystical, marve­ lous and manic and I love it all. From the Christ child to Santa Claus, from the candlelight service to shopping, from Silent Night to Jingle Bells, there is not a part of Christmas and the holiday season that I am not enamoured with. I am awed by the simplicity of the story of Christ’s birth and charmed by the magic in the air. That is why I found it so curious that I could not conjure up images of Christmas past that really stood out in my mind. Certainly, I look back fondly on the memories of the yuletide seasons that I spent with my parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins, but, there doesn’t seem to be the impact one might expect. I remember and miss the visits to my grandparents on Christmas Day, with all of our relatives gathered together to enjoy the holiday traditions. I remember our Sunday School Christmas concerts (especially the one where I got to play a shepherd and my cousin was Mary). I remember every year after the concert no matter how late, our family would drive around town and look at the decorations, singing carols as we went. I remember how my father would only let us open one gift before we left for church on Christmas morning. Then upon our return he prolonged the agony even further by insisting we all sit together for family brunch before we could demolish the rest of the presents under the tree. But, these memories, while cher­ ished, are but vague recollections and as I think back I realize that they have been overshadowed by the memories I am building now with my husband and our four children. These memories, built on the foundation of the past, are the ones I think that I will treasure most because for me the magic of my childhood Christmases has been surpassed by seeing that magic reflected in my children’s eyes. There are countless legends that have grown up around the season of Christmas. In Italy, the legend of La Befana tells of the Three Kings who came to her home in search of the Infant Jesus. They invited La Befana to join them on their journey to Bethlehem, but she refused, for she was too busy cleaning her house. The following day, the old woman set out to overtake the Three Kings, but she never did, nor did she ever reach Bethlehem. She would stop wherever there was a child, leaving a gift, in hopes that she would find the Christ Child. That is why Italian children await gifts brought by La Befana on January 5th. If they’ve been naughty however, she will leave them lumps of coal instead! A legend that originated in Sweden tells of the Christmas rose. According to the story, a monk was tending his garden when a woman appeared, saying that she was the wife of a robber living in the forest. She told the monk of some beauti­ ful flowers that bloomed in the forest on Christmas Eve. He per­ suaded her to lead him to the forest in exchange for obtaining a pardon for her husband. On Christmas Eve, the snow disappeared and the forest bloom­ ed, as the woman had said. But the snow began to fall again, and the monk, heart-broken, died clutching one of the blossoms. Its root was planted in the monastery garden, where it bloomed into a beautiful rose, and the robber was pardoned. Another legend tells of a wood­ cutter and his wife and children who lived in a hut in the forest. The family was poor, but their home was filled with love. One Christmas Eve, as the family ate a humble meal, there was a knock at the door. The woodcutter opened the door to find a small boy, shivering with cold. A blanket was wrapped about him and he was given some of the modest repast. That night, the boy stayed with the woodcutter’s family, and the next morning, the woodcutter found the boy standing in the middle of the room, sur­ rounded by a dazzling light. It was the Christ Child. He took a stick from the fireplace and thrust it into the ground outside the hut. Promising the woodcutter that the stick would become an evergreen tree to bear fruit so that the family need never suffer from hunger during winter, the Christ Child disappeared A beautiful legend concerning the poinsettia comes to us from Mexico. It seems that a poor young boy had nothing to offer the Christ Child on Christmas Eve, as was the custom in his village. Thinking that at least he could pray, he knelt outside the church window. Rising to his feet, he discovered a beautiful plant with scarlet leaves right in the spot where he had knelt. He took the flower and placed it on the altar. The plant became known as “The Flower of the Holy Night’’ in Mexico. Mabel's Continued from page 4 everything that goes wrong on the Communists anymore. Hank said he’d like to get the farmers across the country an agricultural leader who has really had to farm for a living so maybe he’d understand what farming was all about, somebody who at least once in a while got manure on his boots. Somebody asked Mabel what she’d like to give someone. Well, she said, thinking for a minute, she’d like to get Santa Claus a really good accountant. “As close as I can figure it, the North Pole is in Canada so Michael Wilson is sure to want to slap his tax on everything Santa gives out. Can you just imagine the tax headaches the old boy will get from thatO’’