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The Citizen, 1999-04-21, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21, 1999. PAGE 5. Arthur Black Name your poison The name of a man is a numbing blow from which he never recovers. Marshall McLuhan, the old Canuck crystal­ bailer, made that observation, and he didn’t know the half of it. The Other Half, for starters. McLuhan never mentioned that women can be blindsided by the names their parents give them just as easily as men. I know a woman whose parents called her Pamela. She married a guy named Anderson. Pamela now calls herself by her second given name - just to avoid the drearily predictable flavwnrc/i/hooters jokes. Funny, how names swim in and out of fashion. You don't see as many kids named Brittany, Tammi and Tiffany as you did 20 years ago. Then there are the names that hang right at the back of the fashion closet. How long has it been since you met a Lazarus, an Ezekiel, an Ebeneezer or a Lucasta? Popeye's perennial galpal pretty well took the bloom off "Olive" as a girl's name. Bugs Bunny’s nemesis, the hapless Mister Fudd, made "Elmer" an unlikely choice International Scene By Raymond Canon Thespian thoughts I would presume that many readers are able to associate the word thespian' with the theatre but how many know where the word came from? Not surprisingly, it is of Greek origin since modem theatre owes a great deal to the drama developed in ancient Greece. At any rate, the word comes from the name of the actor Thespis who played an important part in the development of this theatre. In its early years tragic plays were characterized by the presence of a chorus and Thespis decided that drama should be more than just a group of people orating on a stage. He established a leader of the chorus who eventually developed into the independent role of an actor. He was rewarded for this creation with a prize at the festival of Dionysis (God of wine) established in 534 B.C. His prize was nothing less than a goat which brings up another question. Why, you may ask, did the Greeks attach so much importance to a goat that it was first prize in a contest? Well, this same animal had played a central role in the earliest Greek drama. Frequently the chorus was made up of goat­ like satyrs, who were demigods formed of half-goat and half-man. These satyrs eventually took on more lewd or lustful characteristics but that is another story. Just to give the audience a bit of variety, the chorus for boy children. Then there are the perfectly good names that have been sullied by notoriety. Nobody calls their kid Oswald these days - or Lee or Harvey, come to that. And thanks to the infamous butcher/fuhrer. Herr Shickelgruber. I seriously doubt that the name Adolf will ever be popular again. Now. there's a new entry positioned for enshrinement in the Rogues' Gallery of dubious appellations. Monicas of the world - come onnnnn down! You know it's true - thanks to one Bimboid social climber and a Chief Executive with raging hormones where his brain cells ought to be, the perfectly good name of Monica has taken on decidedly unwholesome connotations. Anne Bemays, author of a book called The Language of Names, predicts: "I expect we will see an undeclared moratorium on baby Monicas for at least the next 30 years." Which doesn't much help the Monicas who are already in the world. They still have to put up with the smutty jokes and the knowing leers of the humorously challenged they meet every day. Not that the innocent Monicas aren't fighting back. Two Milwaukee lawyers have founded a group called Monicas With Attitude, dedicated to the other Monicas of the world who, says could also be a group of mere-mortals who performed for a prize which was a goat. It is not surprising that the original meaning of the word 'tragedy' is "goat-song." Let me conclude this little narrative by stating that, once Greek drama had its first actor, a second was not long in coming. He was created by the first of the big three of Gree kdramatists, Aeschylus, a move which further diminished the role of the chorus. The latter got pushed even more into the background when Sophocles, the second of this trio, added a third actor and the format of modem drama was finally in place. Nor should we forget the fact that these dramas were performed in the open air. Some of these theatres still exist, over 2,000 years later and, when I visited a couple of them, I could not get over the acoustics. The audience used to sit on a small hill which surrounded about three-quarters of the stage and so seeing was no problem. Not that there was any real action; that seemed to happen off-stage. You might wonder how the audience could hear but hear they did. Surely these acoustics must be considered as yet another wonder of Greek theatre. I must admit at this point that I used to feel not too far from the Greeks when I attended the Stratford Festival in its early years. You will recall that it was held in a tent (I still have a piece of it) and the dialogue was punctuated by the whistles of CN freight trains and, on occasion, pelting rain and thunder but at least we did not get wet as did the ancient Greeks. Furthermore, we are accustomed to seeing the mission statement "will band together, celebrate their names in a positive way and develop activities that will preserve and promote the good reputation that so many previous Monicas have ehjoyed." Well, all 1 can say is, if your name is Monica - good luck. The Monica Jokes show no sign of waning. On the other hand, it could be worse. How would you like to be the poor 24-year-old Polish girl named Monika Lewinska? Ms Lewinska is now a Missus. She got married last month. Never in the history of human matrimony was a woman so glad to shuck her maiden name and take her husband's. I suppose all we non-Monica-monickered citizens of the world can do is commit ourselves to rise above the common braying masses. We need to resolve that we personally would never sink to the reprehensible level of promulgating sophomoric, schoolboy jokes at the expense of our fellow humans. I know that I, for one, would never stoop so low. Psst: You hear about the woman who calls up the Bell operator and says: "I want to call Santa Monica, please." And the operator says: "Why - just because he’s a little chubby?" female parts played by females; those readers who have seen Shakespeare in Love which did not do too badly in this year's Oscar, will realize that all roles at that time were played by males. This is something else that came down from the Greeks; the writers of the above movie were undoubtedly taking poetic license when they had Juliet played by a female. Those of you who have bravely ploughed through this discourse may be wondering by now where I am heading. Simply this; it is my way of calling attention to all the fine theatre we have during the summer in southwestern Ontario. While we may think of Stratford and the Shaw Festival in Niagara on the Lake, the list does not stop there by any means. There are excellent performances to be seen both at Blyth and Grand Bend. When you have tried those, you can move on to such places as Drayton, Petrolia or Port Stanley. Given that the exchange rate is not very favourable right now, this summer might be as good a time as any to stay at home and see what these theatres have to offer. You could well rub shoulders with Americans who know a good thing when they see it and have come up to enjoy it. A Final Thought I'd rather be a failure in something that I love than a success in something that I don't. George Burns The Short of it By Bonnie Gropp Pleasantly good for you Hedonism is my habit. I like the idea of pleasure as the proper focus in this world. Life is too short to not follow pursuits that help you enjoy it to the fullest. But what I find unjust is that many of the things that happen to feel so right, are actually not. This revelation came to me the other day as I revelled in one of my passions. Rich, tantalizing, decadent, it tempted me. I at first fought the urge, for about two minutes, then gave in to the moment. I savoured the brief delight, the smooth, sweet taste of the chocolate bar, then when it was gone, tasted the sour beginnings of guilt. It struck me how many of the things I find most pleasurable, really aren't that good for me. I have a passion for chocolate and potato chips, and I shamelessly admit to a fondness for wine. I enjoy my coffee, black, of course, and prefer a good movie to an aerobics routine. Eyen my habit of sunbathing has become a bad thing. The depletion of the ozone layer means sun's soothing rays are less a balm for my aching bones, than a reason to apply bum ointment. A little mental exercise was called for. This realization had been a trifle depressing, so I needed to come up with some practices of mine that, though immensely pleasurable, actually benefitted me in some way. One thing that came almost immediately to mind was reading. I love books. I love to lose myself in books. One of my favourite weekend activities happens each morning, hopefully before anyone else is up and about. After a quick tidying up, having thrown a load of clothes in the washing machine, my reward is at hand. I grab my coffee, hop into a chair that swaddles me in cushy comfort, and read. There is little else in this world that helps me forget tiny troubles as surely. I don't remember a time when I didn't like to read. I can remember most of my favourites from decades past and am often challenged to try and find them to revisit. I was just a teenager when I discovered D.H. Lawrence's infamous Lady Chatterley's Lover . The effect it had on me, like many books I read, was enough that I found it worthy of a second and even a third look. Remembering this particular classic recently, I sent my eldest, a second-hand bookstore sleuth, to see if he could find me a copy, which he did. As a result I must say this past weekend's date was delightfully risqud. Making a date with a good book is the suggestion behind this year’s Canada Book Day, April 23. Primarily to encourage the works of Canadian authors, the day, organized by The Writers' Trust of Canada, also encourages the giving of books as gifts. Coinciding with World Book Day, it is essentially a massive celebration of books, so why not join in. No one needed to tell me books are worth a party. Some of my best gifts and some of my best dates have been books. And what's most satisfying is that something that brings so much pleasure is actually good for me too.