HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1996-01-17, Page 5International Scene
By Raymond Canon
THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 17, 1996 PAGE 5.
`It reminds me
of Jerry Lewis'
How do you govern a nation that
has 265 different kinds of cheese?
Charles de Gaulle
Sigmund Freud once posed perhaps the
most poignant question of all time - from a
man's point of view.
"What" asked the Viennese psychoanalyst,
with just a trace of hysteria in his voice, "do
women want?"
English-speaking Canadians have been
asking themselves a variation of that
question for as long as I've been alive.
"What" we want to know, "do the French
want?"
We refer of course, to what used to be
called French-Canadians. Specifically, the
Quebecois, who have made an art form of
standing at the front door, jangling the car
keys in their hand, lamenting that they're not
happy with the marriage.
But not doing a whole helluva lot to make
it better.
French-Canadians are not the same as
French-French but they share some common
characteristics. For one thing, they insist that
No boundaries
for roses
BY RAYMOND CANON
The first time that I took my wife for a
visit to Switzerland, I asked her to tell me
what she liked about the country. I also
asked her what she didn't like, but that is not
the basis for this article.
After she had been there a while, she said
that one of the things she liked very much
was the quantity of flowers that were to be
seen everywhere. She was especially taken
with the roses in our backyard which were
every bit as pretty as the ones in Canada.
I replied that this would make roses very
much an international flower as they are to
be seen in so many different places. I didn't
realize at the time just how true my
statement was: I know now that they are the
world travellers of the floral circuit. Few, if
any, surpass the attraction they have and just
as few have such a long history.
I may be wrong on this but they go back as
far as the Greek civilization before the birth
of Christ where they were grown for both
decorative and medicinal purposes.
Fortunately for our knowledge of the flower,
the Greeks thought enough of them to paint
them in some of their frescos with the oldest
being about 1700 BC.
The Romans took over where the Greeks
left off and the mythology of both countries
uses the rose as a symbol of beauty. The
white ones indicated the highest degree of
purity while the red ones were reserved for
passion and desire.
Small wonder that the rose has become a
universal symbol of love.
With a reputation such as that among the
Jerry Lewis is a comic genius. Paris
conferred the Legion of Honour on the guy a
few years back.
The Gallic temperament also displays an
affinity for political leaders that most people
find baffling. France recently elected
Jacques Chirac as president. Chirac
immediately responded by single-handedly
reviving the most nightmarish practice of
sabre-rattling humankind has ever invented -
the pastime of exploding nuclear bombs..
In other people's backyards of course.
Our French - the Quebecois - persist in
deifying as leader a man who would
probably be in jail for treason in any other
country. Lucien Bouchard is a man who has
bolted his party not once, but three times. He
has betrayed his best friend (okay, it was
only Mulroney) at his greatest hour of need.
He has served as, and accepted a salary for,
representing this country as Ambassador to
France, Federal Minister of the Environment
and Leader of the Official Opposition.
And he is doing everything in his power to
see that that same country does not survive.
I don't know what "glories" Lucien
Bouchard will go on to achieve, but for me
the abiding image will be of a man mocking
and jeering the tens of thousands of
Canadians who flocked to Montreal at the
eleventh hour of the last/latest Referendum
classical civilizations, it is not surprising that
the rose started to travel throughout Europe.
During the Dark Ages the cultivation of the
flower was mainly in the hands of the
monasteries and from there they spread to
the gardens of the reigning monarchs, who
were frequently not hesitant in including
them in the family's coat of arms.
This was carried on further in England
than in other countries, for not only did they
have the War of the Roses but the House of
Lancaster saw its red rose combined with the
white variety of the House of York. From
there it was only a matter of time until it
became the national flower of England.
While all this was going on, rose lovers
were forever trying to find better and
different varieties of it. Initially the
development took place with the wild or
dogrose, a white flower with only a small
number of petals and which is still to be seen
growing wild in Europe.
Up to the 18th century new strains of roses
were developed more by chance, than
planning. After that with the arrival of
nurseries, rose breeding became something
of a science.
The English were not the only ones to get
involved with the symbolic use of roses. The
Rosicrucians, a mystical Christian fraternity
which dates back to the Renaissance, used as
a symbol, a five-leafed rose on a cross, a use
which came remarkably close to that of
Martin Luther's personal seal in which can
be seen a cross growing from a heart at the
centre of a five-leafed rose.
Finally the Freemasons have also involved
the rose heavily in their symbolism. When a
Mason is buried, three roses, symbolizing
light, love and life, are placed on his grave.
On June 24, the Masonic St. John's day, a
lodge is decorated with roses of three
different colours.
to show their love of an undivided Canada.
As Ivor Novello once said "There's
something Vichy about the French".
There was a recent court case in Aix-En-
Provence which saw a man go on trial for
hurling a cream pie at Philippe Douste-
Blazy, who happens to be France's Minister
of Culture.
What do you charge a cream-pie hurler
with? Pastrycide? Conspiracy to commit
baking? Attempted pie-slaughter?
The French penal code has a designation.
Jan Bucquoy was charged with "outrage to a
public personality".
Jan Bucquoy's lawyers argued that
throwing pies at public figures was a
European tradition that dates back to the
Middle Ages.
"For many people it is an honour to have
pies thrown at them" Bucquoy declared
stoutly.
In the end he was acquitted. The cream pie
you see, missed its intended target. It sailed
right past the Minister of Culture and caught
one of the minister's bodyguards flush on the
puss.
In France it's okay to commit "an outrage"
on the bodyguard "to a public personality".
Case dismissed.
Sort of reminds me of Jerry Lewis.
It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.
One of the current fields of research in
roses is to find the perfect combination -
beauty and a resistance to diseases. One
direction is to breed roses with both
blackberries and cherries, since the latter
have immunity to the black spot disease.
Results to date have been mixed but Rome
was not built in a day even in the field of
roses.
My wish is that some longevity could be
bred in them as well. Much as I like to give
roses as a floral gift, I find myself opting for
carnations since they hold their beauty that
much longer. However, wherever I am in
this world, I still take time to admire the
roses,
Writer says,
`Treat others
with respect'
Continued from page 4
lasts, at its best; a lifetime and life is short.
Any gain must be relinquished at death.
The tremendous loss of lives and agony all
over the world with misery to follow has not
taught us much. Even in compassionate
Canada, the forces of self interest are tearing
the country apart. Each one of us is unique
and distinct. We can live out our own
individuality with the talents God has given
and thus contribute to make this a better
world.
We must treat each other with respect,
providing our intentions are honourable. We
socialize with those whom we. arc most
comfortable with, but we should also reach
out to those of a different lifestyle.
In conclusion, would it not be a giant step
forward if we recognize our spiritual nature
and live accordingly?
Adrian Keet
Ingersoll, Ontario.
The
Short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
Easy access
Put it down to mid-life crisis or the early
onset of the February blahs, but if I would be
honest with myself I must admit to a certain
restlessness of spirit lately.
Oh, I've been putting on a good front, lots
of bravado and a bit of denial, but in truth all
is not completely satisfactory. I realize that
last week I was espoucing my acceptance of
winter, and in all truth, that was the truth.
No, this feeling of wanderlust, of feeling
unsettled, I believe would be just as strong if
the grass were green and the mercury rising.
The February blahs theory is therfore
eliminated, so I must then accept the first
idea. Reflecting on that further, I would
likely have to admit that I have reached a
point in my life where I wish things were
easier. By easier, I am not considering those
happenings that challenge me, but rather
those situations within my control.
Let me explain. I have lived in a rural
village for close to two decades, prior to that
I came from a small town, also nestled in
country surroundings. As a youngster I
longed for the excitement of the big city, but
as a young parent, I came to prefer the close-
knit, comfortable sense of security that came
from being part of a tiny community. Such
places are still, to me, the best places to live.
We have nearly everything we want, and
everything we need is at most an hour away.
Yet it is this need for transportation that
seems to be souring my sweet rural
existence. For example, on Saturday after
cleaning and catching up on the laundry, I
had a bit of time and a desire to do —
something different. Of course, a visit to any
theatre, exhibit, gym or even family would
mean driving, which when you do it all
week, takes a lot of the enthusiasm out of a
venture. Besides time was limited.
You may call this pursuit pure selfish
hedonism, but I learned long ago that it's up
to me to make me happy, to see to my needs,
and, it dawned on me that day that I yearn
for easy access, a fact that was re-affirmed
by a late night craving for Chinese and a
Monday morning car breakdown.
So it would seem that I am, if not facing a
mid-life crisis, definitely facing a mid-life
crossroad. I cherish the warmth and kindness
of small town Huron, and can't imagine
living anywhere else. Yet, I am tantalized by
the entertainment opportunities, and
transportation options, available in larger
urban centres.
Thinking of the future also adds weight to
this personal debate. Provincial cutbacks
have resulted in a rethinking of priorities.
Huron County has already closed its smallest
library branches and may close more. Our
roads are not plowed during the early
morning hours, meaning people must think
ahead when travelling, and consideration is
being given to closing the health unit office
in Brussels, the only link to many resources
for area seniors.
There are plenty of factors to make people
choose life in a smaller community. We can
walk freely, breathe clean air and enjoy
relaxing activities. And for these things we
willingly sacrifice easy access to certain
eclectic pursuits, because we have
everything we actually need.
But, for those without transportation, how
much longer will that be true?
Arthur Black