The Citizen, 1998-08-05, Page 5accomplishing anything great in the realm of
things but put all these little acts together and
you get something meaningful. Just imagine
an event taking place without these activities!
Contrast all this with the impression one
gets from commercial television, including
the commercials, where the emphasis is
mainly on one's own materialistic pleasure
along with the instant, or almost instant
gratification that it is claimed to bring.
Children and adults alike get a steady diet of
such material and it is not hard to develop the
realization that this is, in fact, the norm in
life. Small wonder that we live in a society
with such heavy materialistic overtones with
all the negative side-effects that are brought
about.
It is, in a way, ironic that it was Mrs.
Clinton who brought this up since American
attitudes are perhaps the best example of
such a society in action. At any rate, I take
my hat off to all those who are currently
volunteering in some activity which has as its
goal the creation of a more civil society,
whatever country they may be in.
If our communities are to be vibrant and
meaningful, such activities are required in
great quantities and on a continual basis.
A Final Thought
A man who gives his children habits of
industry, provides for them better than by
giving them a fortune — Richard Whately
THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 5, 1998. PAGE 5.
Arthur Black The
Short
of it In praise of Also Rans
I hate all sports as rabidly as a person
who likes sports hates common sense.
H. L. Mencken
While I am not quite as sour on the subject
of sweaty endeavour as the late Great
Curmudgeon, I have to admit that the sight of
my fellow Homo Sapiens grunting and
straining to go further, higher and faster is a
distinctly unthrilling one for me.
I do not follow NBA basketball. I could
not tell you who won the Super Bowl this
year. I'd rather watch the weather channel
than TV golf.
As for Canada's Sacred Weekly Religious
Ritual — Hockey Night In Canada — the last
time I tuned in for that, the chap who
currently runs the Toronto Maple Leafs
sported goalie pads, a Canadiens sweater and
a page boy bob.
Over my lifetime, sports has become less
exciting and more cash-oriented. And as it
has, I've turned my attention to more
interesting pursuits.
Such as memorizing old Hansard
transcripts, watching Preston Manning
videos and mowing the front lawn with a pair
of nail scissors.
As for the Olympics — call me unpatriotic,
but I couldn't care less how many gold, silver
or bronze medals Canada won at anything. I
don't think winning medals contributes to the
enlightenment of a nation -- it just
contributes to the arrogance of same.
Before the last Olympics, one of the most
offensive bumper stickers I've seen in a while
was selling briskly. It read: CANADA
KICKS ASS. These stickers were obviously
printed up before our millionaire NHL
players showed the world that 'though they
had paycheques of gold, they skated on
A Civil Society
Each year a World Economic Forum is
held in the small Swiss resort community of
Davos at which executives and leading
government personalities gather to exchange
the usual news and views. Nobody, it seems,
is too high or mighty to run up the chance of
talking to those assembled, and, while many
of the speeches are mercifully ignored by the
press, a few do strike a chord and get
reported to the extent that the outside world
is able to get some idea of what was said and
discussed.
One of the latter group of speeches was
made by Hillary Clinton interestingly
enough, in the midst of all the turmoil
generated by her husband's alleged sexual
peccadilloes. She talked about the "three legs
of a stool" that make up a healthy and
prosperous society.
One leg, she said, was for the innovative
and entrepreneurial business sector to
generate wealth, jobs and higher living
standards; yet another was for an "effective,
functioning, competent government" to
provide the public goods and services that
can make a contribution to a strong society.
However, it was the third leg that caught
my attention. She called this the "civil
society" which bridged the gap between the
marketplace and the government. This is, she
emphasized, what makes life worth living.
Civil society takes in such things as the
blades of clay. Team Canada limped home
after finishing a meek fourth in Olympic
hockey.
Which didn't bother me. It made me love
the lugs. I'm a big booster of the Also Rans —
particularly at the Olympics. Remember the
Jamaican Bobsled team? I was their biggest
fan. Especially, when they crossed the finish
line on their heads at the Calgary Winter
Olympics back in 1988.
The Calgary Olympics was also the
showcase venue for the patron saint of
Olympic Also-Rans. I speak (reverently) of
Edward Edwards, aka
Eddie the Eagle.
Ah, Eddie. You had to see him to believe
him. Some athletes look chiseled, tanned and
resolute. Eddie looked ... like a part-time
wall plasterer from Cheltenham, Eng.
Which, in fact, he was, most of the time.
When he wasn't trying to be a world-class ski
jumper.
Somehow, the skinny, middle-aged bloke
with the Coke-bottle glasses, the stooped
shoulders and the posture of an arthritic
Great Blue Heron got it into his head that he
could ski jump with the world's elite. Eddie
was wrong. He was a terrible ski jumper. He
went down the track looking like a praying
mantis with St. Vitus' Dance.
And when it came to ski hill fashion, he
wasn't at all slick — not like his spandexed
colleagues. Eddie the Eagle jumped in
oversized boots that required five pairs of
socks. He wore a helmet that he had to tie to
his head with butcher's cord.
Nor did he talk the way a champion is
supposed to talk. Champions are supposed to
be brave, stoic and monosyllabic. A reporter
asked Eddie if he 'felt fear' when he jumped.
Eddie replied: "I was so frightened that my
bum shriveled up like a prune."
The Olympic poohbahs hated Eddie the
Eagle. Not surprisingly, the public loved
family and community, arts and culture, the
volunteer community, philanthropy and
public participation. If that leg is missing, the
stability is gone!
All this rang a bell! As I have been
watching the statements of British Prime
Minister Tony Blair, I have seen reference to
somewhat the same concept. Blair has been
trying to incorporate measures in his
government's policies that will strengthen the
civil society; he is not finding it an easy task.
At any rate, the upshot of all this is that a
healthy civil society cannot flourish if people
are encouraged by governments to act in
their own self-interest and, in so doing shut
the conununity out.
A civil society provides a healthier context
for both adults and children. In this regard I
cannot help thinking of something I saw in
the Czech Republic. The Ostrayska Folklore
Ensemble which, thanks to a large group of
dedicated adults, takes children at a very
early age and involves them in a musical
program of song, dance and musical
instruments and keeps them active until they
are approaching their 20s.
I met a number of these youth who were
sons and daughters of colleagues of mine
during the time I worked there and I was
struck by their enthusiasm, civility and
maturity. Would that all children turned out
as well!
I use this as an example of all such
organizations that are in operation in Canada
and elsewhere for both children and adults.
The individual may not think that he or she is
him. He was real. Just like us. Eddie placed
dead last in all the ski jump standings, but
number one in the hearts of the spectators.
As the head of the International Ski
Federation put it: ''No one cared about 1,2, 3.
They wanted Eddie."
Eddie the Eagle was good as an Also Ran
but he was not the best.
That honour, I think, would have to go to
Shizo Kanakuri, a Japanese athlete who
competed as a marathoner at the Olympics in
Stockholm, Sweden back in 1912. Shizo
finished the required 26.2 miles of the
marathon, but it required a little more time
than it usually does.
Shizo took 54 years, eight months, 32
minutes, and 20 seconds. It happened like
this: Shizo Kanakuri started out in the
Olympic marathon with the best of
intentions, on a sunny day in Stockholm in
1912. He ran a few miles, but boy, was it
hot! As he trudged through- the outskirts of
Stockholm, Shizo espied a Swedish family
sitting in a shady garden, sipping Schnapps.
Shizo stopped, had a glass. And then another.
After ... some time, Shizo Kanakuri left
the leafy grove in suburban Stockholm. He
caught a train back to the city centre, then, a
freighter bound for Tokyo.
When he got to Japan, Shizo went on to get
married, sire six children and eventually
preside over 10 grandchildren. Which is
when he decided it was time to take care of
unfinished business.
He returned to Sweden, donned running
shorts, a T shirt and sneakers, and finished
the marathon he had begun more than a half
century before. "I did it" an exhausted Shizo
Kanakuri told reporters, "for the honour of
Japan".
Whatever. I don't really care why he did it,
but I'll tell you: I'd take a glass of sake with
Shizo Kanakuri over filet mignon with
Dennis Rodman anytime.
The obssessive planner
playing it footloose
and fancy-free
The dry, hot summer has been challenging
for agriculturalists, but take heart. For those
praying for rain, there is good news coming
your way next week — I'm going on
holidays.
If it rains on my vacation, I suppose I
deserve it. I have selfishly this summer
delighted in the days and days of sunshine
and warmth. When humidity slowed us, I
was grateful for a genuine excuse to sit
down and absorb the hours, rather than
stream through them at a downhill pace.
Every day of sunshine was a reason to
ignore the dust indoors and come out and
play in the dirt.
But, now, even more selfishly I wish, just
once that clear skies would actually show up
when the entire 24 hours a day are mine for
awhile, rather than when most of my hours
are spent in my little windowless office.
Alright, perhaps I'm spoiled. Over a
decade ago, I had the good fortune to spend
the full two months enjoying the benefits of
sand, surf and relaxation. Sleep was deep
and rich, morning's began slowly. Work was
minimal, and afternoons were spent with a
.....good book, while I watched my babies
swimming and digging sand castles. Suppers
were leisurely, followed by walks for ice-
cream, then to the beach-front playground.
The odd spell of inclement weather,
therefore, actually provided an opportunity
to get some indoor chores done, or go
shopping or to the movies.
What a difference when you've only got
seven days to get it right.
Last year seemed promising enough. The
forecast predicted a week of sun and
seasonable temperatures. With a cottage stay
planned I pictured idyllic mornings on the
deck, coffee beside me, book in hand, the
majestic Lake Huron panorama before me.
Unfortunately, though I tried to tough it out
donning everything but earmuffs, my picture
perfect beginnings were cool and cloudy, the
grey, undulating waters stretching before me
more sinister than soothing.
Admittedly, while memories of recent
summers preceeding this are less distinct, I
would have to say that I can't recall when
last I returned from holidays extolling
Mother Nature. If there is to be only one
week of the year that she would choose to be
less than perfect, odds are I'm on vacation.
It doesn't help when the destination for a
summer sojourn is typically the beach, a
setting begging for sunshine. One day in the
cottage can be pleasant, two tolerable, three
frustrating, any more than that,
claustrophobic.
Add to this fact that the family's schedules
seem to be making it impossible for us to be
in the same house at the same time, let alone
manage seven days away together, and I've
opted for a change in plans this year. Places
and people that we must try to see have been
pre-ordained, but the whens are open to
suggestion. This year, this obsessive planner,
compulsive organizer is going to play it
footloose and fancy free.
I still can't imagine it working.
International Scene
By Raymond Canon
By Bonnie Gropp