HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1998-12-23, Page 5A Final Thought
At Christmas play and make good cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year.
— Thomas Tusser
International Scene
By Raymond Canon
THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1998. PAGE 5.
I think I'll sleep
on, it
Hove sleep because if is both
pleasant and safe to use sleep is
death without the responsibility.
Fran Lebowitz
Well, who doesn't like sleep? It is Nature's
narcotic. A chance to slip the bonds of the
work-a-day world and nestle in the bosom of
sweet oblivion.
Unfortunately, like most narcotics, it can
be habit-forming.
In the case of an unlucky few — extremely
habit-forming.
There's even a medical name for such a
condition. People addicted to sleep are said
to be suffering from Oblomov Syndrome.
The name comes from Ilya Ilyich Oblomov,
a character in a Russian novel who suddenly
quits his job, says good-bye to his family and
... goes to bed.
For the rest of his life.
Oblomov was a creation of fiction, but the
condition is appallingly real, and no
respector of one's status in life.
Doctor Herbert Sieveking was a successful
physician and the founder of the Victorian
Hospital in Cairo, but he spent the last seven
years of his life in bed.
Why? Because, he said, he was simply "fed
up with buttoning and unbuttoning."
Good King
Wenceslas
Writing about Christmas isn't easy,
especially if you want to be original. Last
year I wrote about Christmas in the Czech
Republic and all the carp they eat at that time
instead of turkey.
I am happy to report that turkeys, some of
them Canadian in origin, are being raised in
greater numbers, but not for Yuletide meals,
where carp is still the choice for most
Czechs.
However, turkey or carp is not what
Christmas is all about. I got to thinking one
day about the old Christmas carol Good King
Wenceslas and absent-mindedly translated
the name into Czech. It is Vaclav, which
happens to be the name of the president of
the country — Vaclav Havel.
For many Czechs, he is the nearest thing
they have to a medieval king. He is by far the
best known leader of all the former
communist countries of Central and Eastern
Europe and, even in his own country where
politicians are, for the most part, a mediocre
lot, he stands out as much as King Wenceslas
did in his day.
I got to know considerably more about
Havel since the minister of the church I go to
in Frydek-Mistek knows him personally from
the days he served under Havel when he was
Deputy Prime Minister.
Oblomov Syndrome can strike without
warning. Twenty years ago this month, a
man by the name of Presley Bishop came
•home from work in Littleton, Colorado.
Confessing to feeling "a tad depressed" he
laid down for a nap. •
He was still there three years later, having
lost nearly 40 kilograms, grown a beard
down to his navel and worn a hole right
through his mattress.
Bishop got out of bed, but only because his
sister called the cops — and just long enough
to check himself into a nursing home. As far
as I know he's still there. In bed.
He'll have to do a lot more sack time to
match the record of another Oblomov
Syndrome sufferer, Hilda Matthews. Hilda,
an English teenager, went upstairs for a
snooze in 1934, She was still up there when
she died, 50 years later.
She spent a half a century in one room.
Two years before Hilda put her head on her
pillow a Russian girl, also living in England,
came down with a slight case of the 'flu. Her
doctor told her to stay in bed until he
returned to check on her.
She dutifully complied and waited for the
doctor to return.
He forgot. She was still in bed 40 years
later. It took another doctor seven months to
get the victim back on her feet.
The all-time Oblomov Syndrome record-
holder? That dubious honour falls to yet
another Englishwoman (what is it about
Havel is, in fact, the only president the
Czechs have had since their country's
emergence from the communist cocoon in
1991. Until that time, he had been one of the
country's most notable authors, and for his
outspoken criticisms of the regime had spent
some time in jail.
He was certainly a popular choice for
president, and it was he who led what is
widely known as "the velvet revolution"
against the Russian military and bureaucratic
entities in the country.
The departure of the latter can only be
described as rapid. The Czech railway
employees worked overtime without extra
pay in order to get the Russian equipment
and personnel out of the country. Needless to
say, the Russians are not greatly missed.
Havel is certainly honest with his
countrymen. At the beginning of his
presidency, he warned them that there would
be no quick fix of the problems that they
faced, one of which was the production of
poor quality merchandise that nobody would
buy. Another was the unholy alliance of the
banks, the investment trusts and certain
members of the government, an alliance that
made piles of money for a few who exploited
the system but, unfortunately, caused losses
to a great many Czechs who were unfamiliar
with the role of stocks in a market economy.
Shortly before I left the Czech Republic
last year, the government fell apart and Havel
was left with the job of picking up the pieces.
He was unable to find any politician capable
England — the weather? Prince Charles?)
who took to her bed after her father refused
her permission to marry a local bloke.
That would have been in the summer of
1845. The woman died in her bed — without
having left it -- near the end of World War I
—72 years later.
The most famous victim of Oblomov
Syndrome? Horence Nightingale, believe it
or not.
The Lady Of the Lamp was a fitful sufferer
who, between bouts of feverish activity, hit
the sack for extended periods of time. She
did this frequently over the last 50 years of
her life.
I know how she feels. I had a brush with
the syndrome back in my high school days.
During Easter break one year I was so
terminally bored I simply went to bed — and
couldn't think of a single reason to get up
again.
Fortunately for me, two and a half days in
the horizontal position proved to be even
more boring than the vertical alternative, so I
got up.
But I ,suppose Oblomov Syndrome could
strike at any time. In the middle of a long,
Canadian winter, say, with the prospect of
watching and listening to Joe Clark or Jean
Chretien or a hockey game between the
Nashville Predators and the Carolina
Hurricanes.
Phew. All this writing has me tuckered,
Think I'll go and lie down for awhile.
of forming a new government and so he
turned to the governor of the central bank.
He asked the latter to form a caretaker
government until elections could be held,
which they were last June.
While all this was going on, Havel was re-
appointed president.
Havel has, at times, a tendency to lecture
his people, but I can go along with that since
I would admit that I do somewhat the same
in my economics classes.
He is not only the best-known political
figure in this part of Europe but he is warmly
welcomed everywhere he goes on state visits.
He firmly supports the entry of the Czech
Republic into both NATO and the European
Union, and his visits are used as a means of
promoting his point of view.
If there is any question about Havel at the
present time, it is the state of his health. He
has not been in robust health for a number of
years and he has suffered serious illnesses
during the past year.
He has rejected all suggestions that he
retire, and there is no great pressure for him
to do so.
The Czechs undoubtedly recognize a Good
King Wenceslas when they see one.
The
Short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
Tradition
Every tradition grows ever more
venerable — the more remote is its origin,
the more confused that origin is. The
reverence due to it increases from
generation to generation. The tradition
finally becomes holy and inspires awe.
- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
Holiday traditions — they are the history
of family and the strength of their bonds.
They are a chain linking generations and a
common thread piecing together diversity.
The topic of Christmas traditions has,
upon reflection, caused me no small degree
of consternation. Because, while so much of
my childhood is vivid, little stands out from
this special time of year.
I recall snippets, single pictures that flash
through my mind. I remember little things,
like touring around town after the annual .
Sunday School pageant to look at the
decorated homes. There was a ritual
followed every Christmas morning with
each of us being allowed to open one gift
before going to church. To a fidgety
youngster the service was agony.
And worse yet was my father's rule that
after church a hearty brunch would be
served, and eaten, before we got back to the
tree.
When I first thought of these simplistic
practices, I never considered them traditions.
And yet, as I look at today, I see that I have
taken some of this Christmas past and
incorporated it into my Christmas present.
As an adult, I now see the genius in my
father's motives and so we have our own
ways of prolonging the orgy of gift giving.
Before any action on Christmas morning
(As we live half an hour's drive from our
church, we attend the service on Christmas
Eve.) my kids must all line up beside their
stocking for the traditional phot'> op. After
one at a time, digging out the treats in their
stocking we stop for brunch.
Getting them back to the idea of opening
presents is a little harder than it was when
they were little. But eventually, we manage
to, for one of the few times in a year, get all
the Gropps sitting down in one room for one
purpose. One plays Santa and presents are
doled out, again one at a time, so that
everyone's attention is focussed on the
receiver and the giver has a front row seat to
the reaction.
These things don't make our Christmas
any better or worse than anyone else's —
they simply make it ours. Missing one tiny
little detail would just not be right.
But, while I was taking this time to
consider our family traditions, I realized
that one brief span of time on Christmas
Day, practised every year since I became an
adult, may be the most special to me.
Rising early to prepare, it has become my
tradition to indulge in some quiet time. With
tree lights sparkling, carols playing softly in
the background, I curl into my comfy chair,
coffee in hand. I can delight in the day that
has arrived, but still stretches before me.
reflect on the many years I have done this,
the gifts with which I have been blessed and
most importantly on the family still asleep
upstairs who have not only been my greatest
joy, but my validation.
May you too enjoy all the blessings of this
wonderful season and treasure the traditions
you make yours.
Arthur Black