The Citizen, 1996-10-09, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1996 PAGE 5.
Aromatic enough
for you,
Bill?
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
Methinks Shakespeare badly under-
estimated the power of names. As a fellow
by the name of George Ade observed, "A
rose by any other name might smell as
sweet, but would not cost half as much
during the winter months".
Names are the very cornerstones of our
identity. Otherwise, why would Wawa be
suing HAHA?
Wawa is the name of a chain of American
retail stores with some 500 outlets in five
U.S. states. The lawyers for Wawa have
gone to court to force the HAHA market in
Allentown, Pennsylvania, to change its
name. Sounds too close to Wawa, the
lawyers claim. Customers might get
confused and spend their money in HAHA
when they should be shopping in Wawa.
What makes a silly suit even more
Fastball—
the sport supreme
When I came to this country, I found that
I was woefully incompetent compared to the
rest of the boys in my class. I am not talking
about being academically weak or anything
like that; it is simply that I could not play
either softball or hockey. I couldn't even
skate for that matter and I saw myself bound
to be relegated to the scrapheap when it
came to really meaningful accomplishments,
or so I was informed by the dirty, rotten
Canadian boys in the class.
I like to think that Canons were a tough
breed, who would not take any setback
without a good fight. I therefore decided
that, if it took being good at softball to be
accepted by my male peers, and I suspect
some of my female ones, I was not only
going to be good but better. I got a book out
of the local library which purported to
explain fully how to play softball, _hen
announced to my family that I was going to
be a pitcher.
On a nearby factory wall, I marked out the
strike zone of an average hitter, then marked
the pitching distance away from the wall.
With a borrowed ball, I then practiced
pitching to the strike zone. This went on for
three years, no less, and then I decided that I
was ready to make my debut.
When I announced to all and sundry that I
was going to try out as a pitcher for one of
the local teams, there was general
merriment. I was put in when the first game
was out of reach and, to the surprise of
complicated is that the HAHA market came
by its moniker honestly. The HAHA market
is owned and operated by Tamilee and
George Haaf. They could have called the
store HAAF AND HAAF, but they didn't
want to get it confused with a dairy creamer
so they lopped off AF and AF and wound up
with HAHA Market.
I can't help thinking that this lawsuit
would never have made it to court in Canada
— if only because Wawa and Ha I-la are well-
respected names this side of the border.
Well...fairly well respected.
Wawa is the name of an Ontario town on
the north shore of Lake Superior. It takes its
name from the Ojibway word for goose, and
just to drive the lesson home there's a huge
two-storey Canadian goose made from
ferroconcrete perched on the outskirts of
town.
As for Ha Ha, that's 50 per cent of the
name of a Quebec town — Saint-Louis-du-Ha
Ha. Ha Ha being the name of a tributary of
the Saguenay river. There is also a Ha Ha
Bay.
But then, we're good at unusual names in
Canada — from Dildo in Newfoundland to
Skookumchuck in British Columbia. In
between you can find a Moose Jaw, a
Punkeydoodles Corners, a Musquadoboit,
and a Crapaud, Prince Edward Island.
everybody but myself, proceeded to pitch
three scoreless and hitless innings. I had
arrived!
Softball, as you might know it, is now
called fastball. At the time I played, only the
catcher and first-baseman were allowed to
wear gloves. The game is reported to have
been invented in the United States (where
else?) during the latter part of the 19th
century. It was initially played indoors and
was comprised of 10 players, the extra one
being called a short-fielder. Eventually this
10th player was considered to be surplus and
the game levelled to the present nine.
Softball became fastball with the advent of
slow-pitch. If you have ever watched a
fastball game, you will realize how quickly
the ball reaches the plate. There are really
very good batters and far more players are
able to take part in slow-pitch than in
fastball. The latter went into something of a
decline but has slowly made its way back,
It has also become very much an
international sport. Each year there is a
tournament at which the world champion
team is decided and I am happy to report that
Canada has been among the winners.
Other countries which have an enthusiastic
group of supporters are New Zealand,
Australia, China, Japan, Philippines and, of
course, the United States.
If I remember correctly, it was New
Zealand who won the world championship
this year. In so doing they took it away from
the Canadians who were the previous
winners.
This may come as something of a surprise
to some, but we have been more successful
over the past decade or so in world fastball
championship games than we have at
hockey.
By the time I was ready to go back to
Here in the Great White North we do
English names (Scarborough, Kingston) and
French names (Montreal, Trois Rivieres),
Indian names (Ottawa, Winnipeg)
and...well, you name it.
Aklavik is Inikitut, Hobbema is Dutch, and
Canadian (yes, Canadian) place names like
Marathon, London, Paris, Brussels and
Athens speak for themselves.
Canada's got short names (Emo, Ont.) and
long ones such as the tiny Quebecois village
barely big enough to support its name:
Coeur-Tres-Pur-de-la-Bienheureuse-Vierge-
Marie-de-Plaisance.
Ontario has a Sioux Lookout.
Saskatchewan has an Outlook. In fact,
Saskatchewan is rather heavy on body parts.
Prairies schoolkids used to memorize the
names of a Canadian Pacific Railroads
branch line by chanting "Tuxford hit the
Marquis on the Eyebrow with his Elbow
spoiling his Outlook".
And that was without even reaching
Climax (Saskatchewan).
As for Shakespeare and his sweet-smelling
rose theory, Canada has a Rose Blanche, a
Rosetown, a Rose Harbour, a Rose Point and
a Rose Valley. We also have a Roseisle, a
Rosemary, a Rosemere, a Rosemont and a
Rosebud River.
That aromatic enough for you, Bill?
Switzerland I had achieved considerable
success in fastball pitching but, if there is a
fastball team in Switzerland, I have yet to
hear about it. I therefore, had to put my
abilities in mothballs and, since I had no
intention of coming back to Canada at that
time, I resigned myself to the fact that I had
pitched my last fastball game. When, to my
surprise, I did find myself back in Canada a
few years later, I picked up where I left off.
There was one exception to all this.
Because of my languages I went to the
excellent interpreters school at the
University of Mainz in Germany and, as the
country was still divided into zones of
occupation, I eventually made friends with
some American soldiers. One thing led to
another and, when they mentioned that they
had a softball league at the base, I told them
that, if they ever needed a spare pitcher, I
would be glad to help.
The thought of anybody from Switzerland
being able to play softball broke them up but
one day one of them met me and asked me if
I was kidding about my ability to pitch
softball. I assured them that I was not. They
then told me that their best pitcher had
broken a leg and could I help out. I told them
it was up to them to decide if I was good
enough. If they would let me in the game, I
would throw a few pitches.
This they did and were pleasantly
surprised. I pitched several games for them
before I finished my studies and went back
to Switzerland.
As far as I know there is still nothing
resembling a fastball team in Switzerland,
but who knows. Not so many years ago few
people there had ever heard of curling; now
the country is a world force.
If you haven't seen a good fastball game,
you are in for a treat. Take my world for it.
The
short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
Find all
your blessings
Thanksgiving. Canadian Encyclopedia
—..says it is proclaimed as "a day of General
Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the
bountiful harvest with which Canada has
been blessed."
Thanksgiving, actually, to me, is a whole
lot more than that, because regardless of
race, religion or gender, it's one day when,
rather than feel sorry for ourselves, we
should make a conscious effort to count our
blessings.
While celebration of harvest is indeed one
of the traditions, Thanksgiving actually
draws upon two others. One is formal
observances, such as the first North
American Thanksgiving in 1578, when
Martin Frobisher celebrated in the eastern
Arctic, while the other is the 1621 Pilgrim's
celebration in Mass-achusettes .
It was not until Jan. 31, 1957, that
parliament proclaimed the observance of
Thanksgiving on the second Monday in
October. Later, E.C. Drury, the former
"Farmer-Premier" of Ontario complained
that "the farmers' own holiday has been
stolen by the towns" to give them a long
weekend.
Be that as it may, in a time when it seems
so much easier to whine under the cloud of
our misfortunes than to search for life's
sunny spots, Thanksgiving offers us not just
a chance to say thanks for the bounty and
take a day off, but to reflect on how good we
have it. There are very few days in our lives
that don't bring with them at least some
small thing for which to be grateful.
Unfortunately, many times we take them for
granted or lose them in a morass of
negativity.
While sometimes we may have to look a
little harder to find the blessings which
surround us, even in the difficult times they
are there in abundance. At our Thanksgiving
dinner, I insist that my family humour me
with the corny tradition of sharing one of
their reasons for Thanksgiving. Of course,
we hear the obvious ones, like family, health
and gainful employment, but each year,
typically from the mouths of father and
youngest son, who are less prone to the
sentimental, we are reminded of some of
life's simpler joys, such as corn flakes and
snowmobiling.
For me, I've always been grateful to have
lived in such an exciting time. I give thanks
as well for The Beatles and Clapton, for
baseball and dancing, for blue skies, golden
fields and crystallesque snowflakes. I
marvel at the masculine, yet sensitive, grace
of a man's hands, at the smoothness of a
baby's skin, the delicacy of lace and the
comfort of denim.
No one ever told us that life would be
easy. This Sunday, we can take a few brief
moments to give thanks for the times when it
has been good to us. Practically every day
we are witness to something special.
Blessings come in a variety of forms, some
powerful, some subtle.
Yet, it is often the unaffected pleasures
which can help us smell the sweetness when
all around us seems rotten. No question life
can stink sometimes, but when you think
about it, every day brings a little fresh air.
Arthur Black
International Scene
By Raymond Canon