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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1992-08-05, Page 5Arthur Black THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 5,1992. PAGE 5. Thank heavens it's still not too late The great - and definitely not yet late - George Burns played Toronto recently. Standing up in front of rooms packed full of people and making them laugh is something George Bums has been doing for oh, only the past eight decades or so. The man is 96 years old but he still has the Gillette-edge timing, the masterful deadpan and the breathtaking quips he used to massage Vaudeville audiences back when our grandparents were young and you and I weren't even thought of, Maggie. Time has taken a few swipes at George. He's no longer the strapping, slightly roguish wag he was when he and Grade Allen did their shtick together. Nowadays he looks like an affable garden gnome - sort of a Ross Perot with a sense of humour. On the stage he moves his body carefully, stiffly, like the brittle antique it is. But ah, when he opens his mouth the ineffable magic of a supremely funny mind comes forth. At 96, George Bums is still firing on all cylinders. International Scene ". ■ ByRayinond Canon , A;.- Taking on the best on the autobahn There is the story told about two tourists who were travelling in Germany for the first time and stopped by the side of the Autobahn to watch the traffic go by. In due course a German police car came by, stopped and informed the two tourists that they could not park in that location. “We were just watching the car race,” replied one of the tourists. “It's even more exciting than the Indianapolis 500. I didn't think that cars could go that fast.” “It's not a car race,” replied the policeman. “That is just normal, everyday traffic.” Now that you have something of the background, I will remind my readers that every year, when I go over to drive on those same autobahnen, I have to put up with such speed. Accordingly a few years ago I decided to prove to the Germans that a Canadian could drive as fast, if not faster than any Germans. By the process of elimination I managed to challenge the reigning German champ, Heinz Karl Hoechstgeschwindigkeit, and beat him hands down. I must say that Heinz Karl and most of his followers took it pretty well, admitting that they knew that they had been in the presence of greatness. The last I heard he had given up racing on the Autobahn, had bought a surplus F-104 Starfighter from the German Air Force, or Luftwaffe, as they like to call it, and was in training. His goal was to fly under the Neckartal Bridge at twice the speed of sound. I wish him luck but I must admit that I would not like to be in the vicinity when he does it. You will note that I said “most” of his followers. A few of them decided to sulk, all How can this be? How can one man retain so much of his faculties well into his tenth decade when so many of us will have collapsed into mumbling, cantankerous old flesh pods at least a quarter of a century before - and if - we reach that mark? If I knew the answer to that question I wouldn't be sitting here slouched over a word processor pecking out a column. I'd be doing one-and-a-half gainers into a swimming pool full of the money I made from peddling Black's Fail Safe Fountain of Youth Elixir and Anti-Senility Pills. I do know that George Bums isn't the only mortal who's managed to duke out a split decision with Old Man Time. Back in 1546, the Vatican looked around for the best architect in the world to plan and construct St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. They settled on a chap named Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni. When he landed the commission, Michelangelo was 71 years old. Off to the east of us there's a wizened little guy at the helm of the most populous empire this planet has ever known. His name is Deng Xiaopeng. We don't see much of him, but last I heard, he was closing in on 90, still chain-smoking cigarettes and dispensing edicts. Back in 1936, a 76-year-old woman named Anna Mary Robinson decided that arthritis had stiffened her fingers too much to do any more of her needlework. So she the while drinking an alcoholic concoction made up of one-quarter schnapps and three- quarter sour grapes. The ringleader, Schmell von Gestorbenenfischen, so my spies told me, was planning on doing something dastardly to me the next time that I set foot in Germany. Being forewarned, I was prepared for any eventuality. Sure enough it came on the Autobahn leading south from Stuttgart on the road to Singen on the Swiss border. I looked in my rear-view mirror to see a supercharged Mercedes bearing down on me and I recognized the ploy. The Mercedes would go through the sound barrier just as it passed me and would blow my little Opel right off the road. I pretended that I didn’t notice him but, just when I calculated that he was the right distance behind me, I hit the brakes just hard enough so that the brake light came on. Poor old Schmell. He had the option of either slowing down or hitting me in the rear. I counted on him reminding himself that they take just as dim a view in Germany of cars hitting the rear of the car in front of them as they do in Canada. Thus Schmell did the wise thing and slowed down, realizing that I was on to him. I presume that he is still sulking over his latest rebuff since I was not bothered afterwards. Heinz Karl probably had a good laugh. Now that I have set the record straight about who rules the German highways, I can pass on a few other observations about driving in Europe. Actually those German drivers, at least those on the Autobahnen (plural of Autobahn), are generally quite competent and courteous. When someone comes on the highway from an interchange, you will see drivers move over a lane to let the car enter. They will also shift lanes to let a faster car go by. While driving at fast speeds can be dangerous, the fatality rate in Germany is not excessively high. The rate is, for example, much higher in France, Belgium, Greece and Spain. For the record put down her needles and threads and picked up a paintbrush, promptly launching a 25- year career as an artist known around the world as Grandma Moses. In 1953, when Buckingham Palace Poobahs needed music for the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, they settled on Ralph Vaughan Williams. He was 81 years old at the time. Winston Churchill, Alexander Graham Bell, Pablo Picasso - all enjoyed some of their greatest personal triumphs long after they were eligible for their senior citizens pension cheques. And who can forget one of Canada's greatest geriactivists - Henry “Jackrabbit” Johannsen - who was still strapping on his cross-country slats and telemarking rings around younger skiers when he was well past the century mark? Maybe the secret to eternal youth is a simple human attribute - attitude. Jackrabbit kept skiing because he couldn't imagine not skiing. Picasso kept his brushes moist because he still had things to paint. Churchill kept politicking and writing because he was too busy to look at the calendar. Perhaps that's what binds all ageless overachievers together - they're too busy living to bother their heads about dying. Attitude. Or as George Bums replied when a reporter asked him about death: “How can I die? I'm booked.” the most dangerous country in western Europe, from a driver's point of view, is Portugal. I don't know what it is about the Portuguese but they have a fatality rate on their highways which puts the other countries to shame. One of the lowest rates is in Holland but I have always maintained for years, from what I see on the German highways, that the Dutch are without a doubt the most sensible drivers to be found. Some of them actually drive faster than I do (not very many) but I certainly take my hat off to them. I have yet to see one of them drive with reckless abandon. One thing I can tell you about European drivers. If they came to Canada, they would exclaim, “Boy, is gasoline ever cheap here! In Germany it costs, at the present time, about $1.15 a litre while in Switzerland it hovers about a dollar a litre. Admittedly distances travelled are generally not as great as here but prices are prices. One last comment. If you are renting a car in Europe, you should know that prices are much higher in some countries than in others. It will pay you to do some comparative pricing before you go. No matter where you rent a car, your insurance is not valid in Yugoslavia. The Short of it I By Bonnie Gropp Finding time for vacation , a big challenge Well, as you are reading this I am probably sitting reading a book and soaking up the sun while my children are frolicking in the pool. That's right, I'm in the land of the sane - a vacation spot. And if I wasn't insane before I decided to go on vacation, I almost was by the time I actually did. Have you noticed that trying to find a week to take a vacation, these days has become more of a challenge than anything you do at work? This year it seemed any time I tried to come up with seven days when nothing was going on, I was lucky to come up with two. Week by week I went through the month of July until finally, when I hit August I got a break. Plans were made, rooms were booked, arrangements were worked out so that the older children could find no excuse not to spend some time on vacation with us and all that was left was the waiting. But as it goes with the best laid plans a monkey wrench was thrown into the works early. While travelling through Listowel a month or so ago, my husband noticed the banner over the downtown core advertising the homecoming celebrations, segments of which we had earlier made a commitment to attend. The homecoming, of course, was the first weekend of our holidays. My first reaction was to skip homecoming. After all, why do I need to come home to a place I come to all the time? The only reason could be to see people that I haven't seen in a long time. But, I rationalized, if I haven't missed them in the 20 years it's been since I've seen them last, is it worth taking away three days of my vacation to find out if they're as smart, gorgeous or snooty as they used to be? The answer must be yes, because we altered our itinerary to accommodate the celebrations. Then one week before the appointed departure, my sister, whom we had planned to visit during the latter part of our trip, phoned to say that something had come up so could we possibly change our plans to another weekend. This being the case our youngest son saw no reason why he couldn't be in town for his playoff ball tournament, in of all places, Listowel. So after letting his coach know we'd be here after all, we again did some revamping of our plans. We had hoped, until all this, to squeeze in a visit with my parents, who summer in Port Elgin, but we ran out of days. It's unfortunate we couldn’t connect with them on one of their jaunts to home base; they live in Listowel. Goodness knows that seems to be a popular spot for us this vacation. Anyway, between all the travelling and juggling we did manage to come up with four days in a row that we could designate as stress management, four days in which we would have nothing to do, but change gears and relax. Four days dedicated to getting away from everyone else and getting back in touch with each other. Four, hopefully, hassle free days of pampering ourselves. So as you read this I had better be sitting watching my children and reading a book.