Loading...
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