The Citizen, 1996-08-14, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1996 PAGE 5.
Nice place to live.
Wouldn't want
to die there
Boy, when you're dead, they really fa you
up. I hope to hell when I do die, somebody
has sense enough to just dump me in the
river or something. Anything except sticking
me in a cemetery. People coming and
putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach
on Sunday and all that crap. Who wants
flowers when you're dead?
Holden Caufield, in
The Catcher In The Rye
Poor old Holden. The teenage hero of J.D.
Salinger's book The Catcher In The Rye was
a pretty grumpy guy. You can be dead sure
he'd never find eternal bliss in Colma,
California.
Colma? A small, typical California town —
two malls, a K-Mart and a Home Depot —
just south of San Francisco. Population
about 10,000.
That's ... 10,000 living citizens. If you
count the stiffs, the population is over a
Don't neglect
the arts
BY RAYMOND CANON
I am going to tell you right at the
beginning of this article that I had a
singularly brief artistic career which will
explain why you have not seen me at Blyth,
Stratford or Niagara on the Lake.
My first venture into this field was a
school production of Hansel and Gretel
where I played the father. My singing and
acting did not bring about a standing ovation
but it did bring me some satisfaction; I
played opposite the prettiest girl in the class
and that, when you are still basically shy,
should count for something.
It was several years before my next
opportunity came. I forget the name of the
play but I had the role of a boy who sent
away for everything. To his dismay, one
coupon was for a free facial at the hands of
one of the girls of the class.
If you think that I volunteered for that, you
have been standing too near the duplicating
fluid. Our teacher announced that we would
be doing a play; there were no tryouts.
"Raymond," he intoned, in a voice that
smacked of a judge sentencing someone to
life or even death. "You will play the part of
the boy!"
The class burst out laughing; I, on the
other hand, looked for a place to hide. In
retrospect I consider the laughter to be that
of relief for not being chosen as the part:
After that artistic triumph, I lapsed into
oblivion. I realize now that I was not
million.
The main industry — heck, pretty well the
only industry — in Colma, is death, Or rather,
what comes from dying, which is to say,
burial.
The verdant, rolling glades of tiny Colma
have been the final resting place for tens of
thousands of Californians for nearly a
century. Ever since 1900, when San
Francisco realized it was running out of
space. Graveyards were eating up what little
real estate was left in the City of Angels.
The solution 'Frisco city fathers hit upon
was: move 'em. The corpses, that is.
Between 1900 and 1940, bodies buried in
San Francisco graveyards were disinterred,
loaded on flatbed trucks and ferried to
Colma for re-burial.
Nowadays, if you die in San Francisco —
or anywhere within the San Francisco Bay
area, the chances are 100 to one that you will
be buried in nearby Colma. Seventy-five per
cent of Colma's land is'now covered with
tombstones.
And you'd be in some famous company.
Wyatt Earp is buried in Colma. So is
newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst.
And Levi Strauss, founder of the blue jeans
that bear his name.
Oh yes, and Tina Turner's dog is resting
there too — reportedly wrapped in one of the
singer's mink coats.
The weird thing about Colma is you never
By Raymond Canon
destined for the stage as I have seen far
greater pieces of acting than I could never
aspire to. The greatest portion of these
examples were in the realm of international
soccer where players, even slightly nudged
by an opponent's foot, fall to the ground and
writhe in a manner that would relegate
William Hutt to the minors.
By now some of you will wonder where
all this is going but bear with me. It has
recently been revealed that my artistic career
may have played some role in propelling me
into the exalted position I hold in my
profession. The details of an American study
have just been released which studies pupils
enrolled into programs which emphasized
the systemic development of musical and
artistic skills. This was done in addition to
the standard program carried out by the other
students.
When the study was concluded, it showed
that the artistic group had outperformed their
peers in both reading and mathematics, an
achievement which lasted the entire length
of the study.
A similar study was done in Switzerland
and Austria. In this study the children were
older and there were far more of them, 1,200
compared to 96. The students in the control
group had the number of music lessons they
took increased from one or two a week to
five, an increase that was made at the
expense of languages and mathematics.
The study was also longer, three years
compared to 'Seven months. The results,
however, were the same. The control
students in spite of the shorter amount of
time spent on math and languages, were
every bit as good as students in the normal
classes and better at languages.
There was also a bonus. The students in
see a corpse. The town has no mortuaries —
only graveyards.
Correction. "Parks". That's what they call
marble orchards in Colma. And the people
that cut the grass, trim the hedges and water
the flowers are called "Park directors".
For those who prefer cremation, Colma's
got that base covered too. One of the town's
17 cemeteries proudly boasts of a 'four-oven
facility' recently finished at a cost of over $1
million.
So far it's been a very pleasant, quiet
century for the living residents of Colma. No
urban sprawl, no crack epidemics, no traffic
jams or juvenile delinquency problems. Just
the chirping of birds, the peaceful drown of
lawn mowers and the hiss of tires from
hearses making their regular deliveries.
It may, alas, not last much longer.
The town limits of Colma circumscribe a
mere 2.2 square miles, and picks, shovels
and backhoes have been assiduously carving
burial plots off that 2.2 square miles for the
past 96 years. Colma's corpse quotient is
nearing capacity. Some of its cemeteries
have already reached 90 per cent capacity.
What happens to Colma when there's no
more room to bury anybody? Nobody knows
for sure.
In the meantime, life — and death — go on
in Colma.
My personal impression: a nice place to
visit but I wouldn't want to die there.
the control group ended up showing a higher
level of co-operation with each other. It
reminds me of the old saying that music
charms the beast in us.
These studies come at a time when school
boards everywhere are cutting down on the
number of subjects offered with more
emphasis on the core curriculum. These
studies, one on each side of the ocean,
indicate that perhaps we should be giving a
bit more consideration to what we cut away.
Looking back
through the years
Continued from page 4
Christ messages and Satan worship.
Rainfall reported to be "grossly over" the
average by a local weather observer, caused
some flooding problems for local residents.
The Brussels Mite Girls won the A
championship.
Australian minister Ian Diamond was here
on an exchange with Blyth United Church
minister Stephen Huntley.
Two men were charged with a break-in at
Blyth's Old MIll.
East Wawanosh Public School teacher
John Kerr returned home after spending two
weeks in England as part of a teaching
exchange with Kevin Hodge, who had
visited Huron in the spring.
The Brussels Tigers finished the regular
Huron County fastball season in first place.
Lori Perrie of RR3, Brussels earned a
bronze medal in the discus at the Canadian
Junior Track and Field Championships in
Abbotsford, B.C.
Karen Stewart of Blyth took on the job of
acting general manger for Blyth Festival.
Kevin Costncr's Waterworld was playing
at The Park Theatre in Goderich.
The
Short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
It's in the jeans ,
You know you're getting old when ...?
... It's all in the jeans.
I know it to be fact because I have spoken
to many others and heard the same thing.
Except for the odd occasion when I am
forced to scrutinize myself in the mirror, I
really don't feel as if I have gotten any older.
While my body may act up from time to
time and I must now admit those things on
my face are crow's feet, not laugh lines,
mind over matter can generally convince me
that inside this old bod is the heart and soul
of a teenager.
That is, until I go shopping for clothes for
my kids. While we do agree from time to
time there is no question, particularly in the
denim department, that our tastes are
separated by at least one generation.
Blue jeans. From the time they stopped
being work clothes and became the fashion
of choice, they have provided some
interesting looks to one's wardrobe. Let's
take it back to where I remember, the 60s,
when they smoothly began to insinuate
themselves between the hangers of mini-
skirts and corduroys in even the unhippest
teen's closet. They basically came in the
same style as all other slacks at that point,
slung low on the hips with bell bottoms.
After the freedom inhibiting, leg revealing
micro-minis, it was sheer liberation.
Not everyone saw them as the perfect
attire, however. I remember my mother's
shrieks of "Aren't you dressing up?" as I
headed out the door on a Saturday night,
dressed for a ball in my jeans and tie-dyed
shirt, followed by my gaze of stupefaction.
What was she seeing? My friends and I
thought we looked great.
While fashions have come and gone since
then (in some instances, gratefully so) the
blue jean was everpresent. By the 1980s
designer jeans were the rage at a cost that set
this mother's teeth on edge. At least today
we have variety, though at times it's a little
overwhelming. Last week during our outing,
we encountered walls and walls of denim
blue. And if variety is the spice of life, it's
an amazing assortment of seasoning.
Anyone who's been there knows; there is no
end to the choices you can make. They come
in tall, slim, petite, classic, husky or casual
fits. You can get them boot or ankle length.
Goodness, you even have a choice of how
you want to get into them — zip them up or
button.
Despite all the diversity, however, this
mom still thinks they should at least fit,
hence our family struggle. There seems to be
a penchant these days for young people,
particularly the males, to camoflouge under
layers of sloppy, baggy garments. I'm all for
comfort, but not to the point of ridiculous.
You can't, I reasoned, think this looks good?
I am heartened knowing the heroine of a
recent teen movie echoes my sentiments.
So, okay. I don't want to be a traitor to my
generation, but I don't get the way guys
dress today. I mean, come on! It looks like
they just fell out of bed and put on some
baggy pants, and take their greasy hair,
000h, and cover it up with a backwards cap
and like, we're expected to swoon? 1 don't
think so!
Alicia Silverstone
in Clueless
Maybe I'm not so old, after all.
Arthur Black
International Scene