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’’