HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2006-08-03, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 3, 2006. PAGE 5.
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Here's mud in your mouth
You'll eat a peck of dirt before you die.
— Ruby F. (Mom) Black 1910 -- 1991
That would be my mother. The saying
would be, in fact, one of my mother's
favourite, if more inscrutable,
catchphrases.
She used it on me whenever I whined about
the topsoil that clung to tasty carrots yanked
from our garden. She uttered it whenever I
kvetched about being expected to finish a
cookie, notwithstanding the fact that she'd
dropped it on the floor.
Mom sported a cavalier, laissez-faire
attitude towards everyday grit and grime that
would have horrified Martha Stewart and
given a modern hygienist a dose of the
vapours.
It scared me too — particularly when I
discovered how big a 'peck' was. My own
mother was telling me that I could expect to
eat a quarter of a bushel of filth in my
lifetime??? That's like....four heaping cereal
bowls!
What the hell kind of a world was this she'd
brought me into?
Answer: a very...fecund one. Common dirt
is, of course, not filth — even though we're
encouraged to regard it as such almost from
birth. ("Oh, Billy! Look at your hands —
they're disgusting! Get into the bathroom and
wash them right now!")
Turns out Billy's hands aren't so much filthy
as teeming with life. According to Graham
Harvey, author of a book called We Want Real
Food, one teaspoonful of healthy soil contains
more than five billion organisms from some
10,000 different species.
Apublic enquiry into the shooting death
of an unarmed native demonstrator in
Ipperwash Provincial Park has wound
up without hearing some testimony that would
have helped its search for the truth.
The most important questions for the
enquiry, a court already having convicted a
police sergeant of criminal negligence causing
death, are whether then Progressive
Conservative premier Mike Harris ordered
police to remove the demonstrators from the
park and used words that slurred Indians.
Elected politicians are not supposed to direct
police actions, but Harris's attorney general at
the time in 1995, Charles Hamick, told the
enquiry he heard Harris tell police and others
at a meeting a few hours before police moved
in "I want the f g Indians out of the park."
Harnick testified unequivocally and in detail
before the enquiry, which will report its
findings by the end of the year. He said Harris
spoke loudly and the room suddenly fell silent.
Hamick said he considered the comment
wrong and inappropriate and was stunned by
it.
He said Harris appeared quickly to
understand he had erred and his demeanour
changed and he became philosophical and
almost reserved.
Harnick explained he agonized over
testifying, because he had nothing but
admiration for Harris, "but I heard what I
heard." He said he now views Harris as human
and having made a mistake.
Harnick was a steady, unspectacular
minister not known for seeking the limelight
and generally having as little to say on an issue
as he could get away with.
He had nothing to gain by his testimony
against Harris and it will cost him some
friends among Conservatives. It is difficult to
see why he would lie.
The only obstacle to accepting his testimony
is when questioned soon after the shooting
about a rumour the offending remark had been
And it's not poison. If it was, every human
being who has a condition known as pica
would be dead as a doornail.
Pica? An overpowering compulsion to
ingest non-edible items — particularly dirt,
clay, pebbles — even cigarette ash.
The name for the condition comes from the
Latin name for 'magpie' — a bird renowned for
eating just about anything.
Estimates are vague as to how many people
have this gastronomic itch, but it is not
unknown among mothers-to-be. Many
pregnant women eat way more than a peck of
dirt while they're carrying children.
Pica also affects youngsters, particularly in
impoverished areas.
Nobody knows why the condition arises, but
it's a safe bet that pica-prone folks are seeking
some kind of nutritional benefit they're not
getting from their regular diets.
Perhaps more of us will be looking to dirt
for sustenance soon. According to author
Harvey, ordinary vegetables where he lives
(Britain) have lost more than a quarter of their
magnesium and iron, and nearly half of their
calcium content over the past half-century.
The result, he claims, is a tepid harvest of
insipid, watered-down food stocks, which
made by an unidentified person, he claimed he
was unable to substantiate it, which has now
emerged as untrue and a cover-up.
Harris testified equally firmly he did not
make the remark Harnick attributed to him, or
words to the same effect, at any time in the
meeting.
He said "the adjective is not foreign to me,"
but he would not have used it at such a
meeting. "It wasn't the kind of language I
would think was appropriate even if I have
used it from time to time."
The former premier could not think of a
reason Harnick would lie in saying he made
the remark or of any bias his former minister
had against him.
Lawyers for Natives trying to show Harris
was prejudiced against them pointed to a
newspaper report in which he once
complained some Natives spent all their time
making land claims instead of improving
themselves economically. Harris however said
it did not accurately represent his views.
One trying to establish Harris tends to use
the offending adjective, produced a report that
forced him to concede when he voted in a
Final Thought
We can't solve problems by using the same
kind of thinking we used when we created
them.
— Albert Einstein
leads to malnourished animals (including
humans) and a whole litany of diseases and
ailments affecting us all. We still need all the
vitamins and minerals our caveman forebears
did, he says.
We're just not getting them.
Which may help explain an unusual medical
experiment that's currently underway Down
Under. Researchers at the University of
Western Australia are dosing a select group of
asthmatic children with a special pill that they
hope will eliminate the symptoms of their
disease.
The kids in the control group are receiving a
specific daily medication that includes a
mixture of various strains of probiotic bacteria
and antioxidants.
Or, to put it plainly — the kids are each
getting a dirt pill a day.
The researchers hope the bacteria in the dirt
pill will replicate common germs that all
children are — or used to be — exposed to
during the first years of their life. Their theory
is that these asthmatic children did not receive
a sufficient quantity of bacteria-laden "dirt" in
their early years to develop 'physiological
immunity,
The researchers believe that the children's
asthmatic condition is merely an allergic
reaction to their 'inadequate' diet.
If the researchers are correct, the experiment
will prove that all those asthmatic kids need is
a bit more common, everyday, run-of-the-
schoolyard dirt in their bellies.
Maybe even a peck's worth.
Good old Mom. Just slightly ahead of her
time.
party leadership contest after retiring, he was
asked for identification and replied "just give
me the f g ballot."
But reporters covering the legislature could
have told the enquiry Harris used the obscenity
more frequently.
A TV cameraman invited to picture the
premier at work focused on papers in front of
him to obtain light settings and Harris told him
to "bugger off' and "use your f g head."
This had not been everyday language used
by premiers and the press gallery representing
journalists wrote the strongest letter it had ever
sent a premier, saying he was demeaning his
office and they would not accept his verbal
abuse.
A pushy lobbyist also once tried to bring
half-a-dozen clients into a press gallery
reception and introduce them to Harris, who
ordered his press aide to "tell this guy to get
the f--k away from me."
This is not proof the premier use his
favourite offensive word again when
discussing what to do with the Native
protesters at Ipperwash, but it would have been
very much in character.
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Thosemagic summers
/
suppose it could be called the end of an
era. Well, at least the end of an era for the
Otts anyway.
It was a lazy, hazy summer, much like this
one. The year was 1972. I was toddling along
keen to welcome my first born and my parents
were excitedly enjoying their first season at the
Port Elgin trailer park. Earlier, they had been
visiting friends there when a For Sale sign on
a modest little 15-foot cabin on wheels caught
their eye.
Dad owned his own business, which any
self-respecting, self-employed person knows
means long days and long weeks at the best of
times. Add the fact that he ran an auto body
shop, complete with 24-hour towing service
and there was little time for recreation. Thus a
battery re-charging weekend spent at a
lakeside resort was all that was needed to
convince them this wouldn't be such a bad
way to pass the summers.
The impulse was a good one, and the trailer
soon became a favourite for their growing
family. My Jason was just a few weeks old
when he first came to see their home away
from home.
My parents graduated to a bigger trailer soon
after. Then in 1978 they decided to upgrade
again. And I decided it was time for a little
home away from home' of my own. We moved
their trailer down the street, in front of one
owned by my brother and the truly golden days
of summer began for My family.
Mark and I were fortunate that he worked
nearby for many of those years and I could
juggle my work to allow many days at the lake.
It meant magical years for our children. The
kids in the park were a close-knit pack that
were never far from each other. They were
protected by a family of hundreds of campers
who came to know who belonged to whom
and who didn't belong in the park.
Days of sun and sand created bronzed, blond
babies who enjoyed a freedom that could never
have been allowed anywhere else. Adults
lounged with books in hand and lotions
nearby, while the youngsters dug up sand,
practised their water skills and begged for
Jerry's fries.
Nights were lazy, made up of long, leisurely
walks on the beach, crimson sunsets and the
requisite ice-cream cone.
As is life, however, things changed. Two
additions to our family and a new career
altered my attitude. Also, while my oldest two
were a fit for the families nearby, my youngest
did not have the same kind of social
environment; it was a different summer place
for them than it had been for their siblings.
By the early 1990s what had begun as a
place to relax now seemed a burden, so we
sold. The break wasn't horrible, though
because there was still Mom and Dad's trailer
to visit wheneVer we wanted.
Now, that too has changed. This year, my
parents made the decision to say goodbye to
the place that had begun a wealth of
summertime memories for our family. Many
of the people who were there when Mom and
Dad first bought their trailer are gone. The
driving, the upkeep and the hassles minimized
any appeal that remained. The decision to sell
came easily now. It was time.
Frankly, though, if I'm to be honest, it does
feel a little sad. I know that I will always
cherish those magic summers. Thanks Mom
and Dad for following through on the impulse
that led us to them.
Some Ipperwash evidence missed