HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2001-03-07, Page 5Bonnie
Gropp
The short of it
THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 7, 2001. PAGE 5.
Other Views
South of two borders,, down Mexico way
/
think it was about mid-January when I
finally snapped. Canada had lost its winter
wonderland charm. I was fed up with cold
snaps, black ice, living under skies of
unrelieved battleship gray....
Mostly I was tired of wearing 'way too many
clothes all the time. -t So I hied myself to the local travel agent
murmuring in a broken monotone "Heat!"
"Sunshine!", "Flowers!" as they pried my Visa
card from my frozen fingers.
My travel agent sent me to Mexico. To a tiny
town called...well, I'm not going to say what
it's called because it IS still a tiny town,
unscarred by McDonald's, Tim Hortons or
billboards shilling for Lotto 649. It is a fishing
village and if you get down to the pier early
enough in the morning you could buy your
fresh Dorado or sailfish or tuna right off the
boat.
And yes, there was heat, sunshine and
flowers everywhere you looked.
There were other things not customary to the
Canuck eye as well. I was about to cool my
feet in a small stream one afternoon when a
Mexican came toward me wagging his finger.
"No! No! Aqui cocodrilos!" he hissed.
Cocodrilos? I thought. Huh. Sounds a lot like
Dear George: (or may I call you
Dubya?)
It has been my practice the last few
presidents to get a letter off in order to bring
them up to date on things Canadian and to give
a bit' of objective advice. If this makes you
suspicious, it shouldn't since I assure you that
I do not want any position in your government,
not now or at any time in the future. Since most
of the advice you get has hidden motives, you
will, I am sure, feel eternally grateful for what
I am about to write you.
In case you are wondering where you have
heard the name Canada before, it is the other
country bordering on the United States. No, it
does not border on Texas as Mexico does but
we have a considerably longer border with you
than do the Mexicans.
In spite of your liking for things Mexican, I
should point out that 98 per cent of the budget
for your immigration department goes to
keeping an eye on the comings and goings of
Mexicans while only two per cent goes to
cover activities along the Canadian border.
No, I am not kidding; I got those figures
from your own budget office.
If it makes you feel any better, I can call you
"amigo" instead of George. Since your sister-
in-law is Mexican, I can even throw in a few
Spanish expressions now and again that you
can use when speaking to her, not to mention
President Fox of Mexico.
Speaking of languages, when our prime
minister offered his congratulations on your,
er, ...belated victory, you may have wondered
what language he was speaking. Well, we do
have -two official languages up here but
honestly we are not sure either which one he is
using when he says something. Maybe that is
why he has got himself elected three times.
Everybody thinks he is saying what they want
to hear.
Something to keep in mind when you come
up for re-election in four years, if you decide to
run again.
I understand that you are in favour of free
trade. Good for you! Could you kindly tell
the English word...
And that's when I looked a little closer at the
log I was going to sit down on to take off my
socks.
The log was a salt-water crocodile. As long
as a Buick.
People here are closer to real life than most
Canucks would be comfortable with. A
shopkeeper apologized for opening his shop
late one day. It was because of la serpiente'
crossing the road, he explained.
A boa constrictor. Also as long as a Buick.
And then there were the alacranes.
My landlady cautioned me to always
check my shoes and shake my clothes before I
put them on "por los alacranes". Scorpions.
Their sting won't kill you, but you'll wish it
had.
That said, I must say I never saw a single boa
constrictor or scorpion during my stay. But
Raymond
Canon
The
International
Scene
some of your fellow countrymen that a free
trade agreement actually exists. To be honest,
We have never seen a country (outside of the
French, but they are in a category all their own)
that could think up so many objections to the
free flow of goods to the U.S. from Canada.
What's wrong with our lumber, wheat and
potatoes, to name just a few things?
If you haven't been brought-up-to-date on
these matters, I'll be glad to brief you. (I'm
free at the end of April.)
If and when you decide to pay us a visit, you
should feel quite at home. We have a lot of the
same fast food places you do, the cars all look
the same, and our English is as close to yours
as it is possible to get. We even call our
currency the dollar although it is prettier than
yours even though it isn't worth as much.
Surely you can do something to brighten up
those American dollars.
When you come up here, don't pay too much
attention to Quebec separatists these days.
They are in a state of shock over losing Lucien
Bouchard. Keep in mind that he does have an
American wife who didn't like all this talk
about separatism. She would much rather be in
California although, in light of the power
shortages, she may change her mind.
Trying to keep happy a whole bunch of
Final Thought
Fear is the main source of superstition, and
one of the main sources of cruelty. To
conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom.
— Bertrand Russell, Earl Russell
their presence does tilt one toward
a...heightened awareness. No bad thing for a
visitor benumbed by a Canadian winter.
I made the usual Gringo blunders. Arrived
with a suitcase bulging with jackets, sweaters,
extra pairs of long pants, woolly socks and
shoes.
I spent 90 per cent of my time wearing the
same baggy shorts accessorized by a pair of
Canadian Tire plastic thong slippers.
Two great things about southern Mexico: the
people are disarmingly friendly; the currency
is dead simple. When it comes to converting
money all you have to do is move the decimal
point one place to the left.
A hundred pesos? Ten dollars. Twenty-five
pesos? Two and a half bucks.
That's two and a half bucks American. To
convert to Canadian, you need, as usual, access
to Hammurabi's Code.
It was a remarkably indolent vacation I
passed down Mexico way, watching the sun go
down over the salt-frosted rim of a Margarita
glass.
Pointless. Non-career enhancing. Inherently
worthless. Utterly without redeeming social
value.
I highly recommend it.
would-be separatists who seem to disagree
with each other as much as they do with the
federalists is a chore that even Bouchard
couldn't accomplish although some people
thought for awhile he walked on water. They
do agree, however, on one thing; separatism
must be total but they must be allowed to take
with them all the benefits that they currently
enjoy in Canada.
Well, amigo that's about it for now. Please
point out to Colin Powell that there are better
ways to get back at Saddam Hussein than trade
embargos and bombing Iraq. I know your
father is still upset that Saddam is around while
he was voted out of office shortly after the Gulf
War but that happens when you have a country
run by a total dictator that you didn't get rid of
when the going was good.
Oh, yes. When you come to Canada, don't
forget to take back some cheddar cheese, back
bacon and beer. Ours are better than yours, as
my American relatives have been telling me
for years. In this case they are right, so listen to
them.
Hasta la vista, Senor Presidente JOrge.
Letters Policy
The Citizen welcomes letters to the
editor.
Letters must be signed and should
include a daytime telephone number for
the purpose of verification only. Letters
that are not signed will not be printed.
Submissions may be edited for length,
clarity and content, using fair comment
as our ouideline. The Citizen reserves
the right to refuse any letter on the basis
of unfair bias, prejudice or inaccurate
inormation. As well, letters can only be
printed as space allows. Please keep
your letters brief and concise.
Pleasure in the :past
Our eldest enjoys those little thought
games best illustrated in the movie
High Fidelity. For example there are
the top fives: name the top five things you
would want with you on a desert island, or the
top five CDs you would have to have in the
same situation?
And then there's the question he challenged
us with during a recent visit. What singer or
band would you really like to see perform but
would be too embarrassed to admit?
After a bit of thought my answer came
easily, as I actually attended a concert this past
weekend. But before I tell you who it is, I must
offer a bit of background. Those who know
our youngest may think that the term music
should be applied loosely to his tastes in this
area. However, what they might not know is
that he has a diverse CD collection which
includes everything from punk to blues to jazz
and Louis Armstrong. A discovery of a tape
containing Dixieland banjo tunes brought him
no end of amusement as he plucked along.
As a guitar player he finds great pleasure in
giving old standards a punk twist and quite
simply just has a good time learning to play
them.
Therefore, it came as only a slight surprise
that after noticing the Lawrence Welk show
was going to be in concert, he- said he wanted
us to go. Initially my agreement was based on
the tact that having my teenage son invite me
anywhere was reason enough to attend.
However, I am also forced to admit that for
harmless, family entertainment I have been a
fan of this cheesy show for many years.
The infatuation took root in childhood. A
favourite aunt and uncle had a Mitch Miller
sing-a-long collection of albums, and I recall
at a .very young age spending hours leaning
the words and music to such standards as My
Buddy and Be My Little Baby Bumblebee. It
was a time shared with my uncle, who was
quite ill and housebound, that I look back to
fondly any time I hear a familiar song.
Then as a young mom in 'the 1970s, I
discovered many of these old favourites being
sung on a show, led by an oddly charismatic
band leader. My baby and I often cuddled up
on the couch, in the quiet time after supper and
bath, soothed by the old tunes, or even on
occasion some modern ones given a
sentimental spin. Oh, I could ignore the
sappiness. I could even ignore Welk's heavy
accent, which when you consider he was born
in 1903 in Strasbourg North Dakota, is a bit of
a puzzle. It was just so restful to sit and listen
to something so pure and so simple.
The show was lost to me for some time, but
with Memories of Lawrence Welk now in
syndication, I was by chance one Saturday
afternoon reintroduced to an old acquaintance.
Nothing like the good old techno-shock of the
recent to years to truly outline how vacuous
this show actually was. It was a place where
true talent was put in its place by singing from
cardboard boxes, or in ridiculous costumes.
Cameras didn't move and bland was the only
word to describe what appeared before us.
But my son heard the music and was
intrigued. Rather than being put off by the
show's banality, it is probably that which
caught his attention.
And so, this past weekend, two generations
generally stuck out like sore thumbs in an
audience not of our peers, and took pleasure in
their past.
A letter to U.S. President Bush