The Citizen, 2005-03-24, Page 5Other Views
THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, MARCH 24, 2005. PAGE 5.
Laugh? I thought I’d diet
Are you fat? I am. Not grotesquely fat. 1
don’t get mistaken for the Graf
Zeppelin. I don’t look like the
Michelin Man or Pavarotti.
We’re not talking Orson Welles North, here.
But fat. Fatter than I want to be. Fatter than I
ought to be.
About 25 pounds heavier than I was the last
time my back didn’t ache and my knees didn’t
hurt.
And I know exactly who to blame it on -
that chubby guy in the mirror.
It’s such a bummer, being fat. It sneaks up
on you, one egg nog at a time. All those second
helpings.
The sour cream on the potatoes. The bagels,
the Turtles, the extra pats of butter. That
irresistible burger with fries. That ‘impulse’
Crispy Crunch at the checkout counter.
Suddenly (well, not so suddenly) there you
are.
Fat.
There are solutions of course. Bookstores
are full of them. There’s Pritikin and Dr.
Atkins’ Diet Revolution, not to mention the
South Beach diet, the Grapefruit Diet, the
Cabbage Soup and even, I swear, the
Submarine Sandwich diet.
There’s just the one small drawback with all
these diet fads: they don’t work. Not for most
of us anyway.
Because they are all cither too boring or
annoying or expensive or complicated and
most of us creep back to our old lifestyles and
the bad diet that got us throwing our money
away on diet books in the first place.
Tory losing backroom stigma
Ontario voters have long distrusted
backroom politicians, but Progressive
Conservative leader John Tory appears
to be winning them over.
Tory, who has spent almost all his political
life as a party strategist, has not only won a
seat in the legislature, but overcome a tradition
of half-a-century that backroomers cannot get
elected.
Tory was at the top, or some may think the
bottom, of this profession. He was principal
secretary, or chief staff political adviser, to
William Davis, whom he helped get elected
more times than any other recent premier, and
ran federal campaigns. In one, Tory committed
the most notorious election gaffe in memory,
running a TV ad that emphasized the partial
facial paralysis of Jean Chretien, then Liberal
opposition leader.
Chretien responded with dignity, “this is the
face God gave me” and won sympathy. Prime
minister Kim Campbell apologized, but it
helped her lose.
This now appears forgotten, judging by the
ease with which Tory won a by-election
in Dufferin-Peel-Wellington-Grey riding,
although the Ontario Liberals may think of
some way to remind voters of it next election.
Other backroom politicians who tried to get
elected but failed include Tom Long, who ran
two successful election campaigns for Tory
premier Mike Harris. He did not know his
limitations, however, and ran for leader of the
Canadian Alliance and was rejected
Hugh Segal, a chief adviser to both Davis
and prime minister Brian Mulroney, twice ran
unsuccessfully for the Commons in an Ontario
riding and failed in a run for federal Tory
leader
Dalton Camp, whose varied career included
writing speeches for Davis, coining the
appealing phrasp “cities are for people” (not
cars) and was a senior adviser to Mulroney,
ran federally in Ontario twice but could not
attract voters.
Arthur
Black
So....what? Gastrointestinal bypass
surgery? Sewing our lips together?
Actually, there’s a much cheaper and
simpler solution that would work perfectly for
about 98 per cent of us fatties: We just need to
keep our mouth shut more often.
The simple truth is, we eat too much.
Doctor Black’s Diet Revolution: Eat iess, lose
weight.
You’re welcome.
Actually, I have another diet tip that might
help: the story of Patrick Deuel.
Mister Deuel is a resident of Valentine,
Nebraska. He is 42 years old. Last summer he
was admitted to the Avera McKennan Hospital
in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in grave
condition, suffering from diabetes and heart
failure.
Why heart failure in such a relatively young
guy? Doctors attributed his medical condition
directly to Mister Deuel’s body mass index.
He was fat. Real fat.
One thousand and seventy-two pounds fat.
That is more than a full-grown horse and
just a bit less than a mature pilot whale.
Patrick Deuel weighed more than twice as
much as a fully-loaded Harley-Davidson
Eric
Dowd
From
Queen’s Park
Pierre Trudeau’s chief aide, Jim Coutts. had
similar ambitions. The Liberal prime minister
considerately freed up a traditionally safe seat
in Toronto by naming its MP to the Senate, but
voters did not give their blessing.
The most effective press aide to a premier
was Sally Barnes, who had Davis’s confidence
and could speak for him on virtually all issues,
but could not win the confidence of voters.
Murray Weppler, .a press adviser to New
Democrat provincial and federal leaders, and
Ellen Adams, senior aide to two Ontario NDP
leaders, were among others who fell short in
elections.
The last backroomer of note to win a seat
was Donald C. MacDonald, who was a party
organizer when the Co-operative
Commonwealth Federation, later the NDP,
chose him leader in 1953.
Some who plan campaigns for parties
remain more fascinated by organizing,
planning and devising strategies and have no
interest in running.
Others accept they lack talents required for
the public arena and already have some status
in their parties and would not want to give it
Final Thought
The person who says it cannot be done
should not interrupt the person doing it.
- Chinese proverb
Sportster.
Patrick Deuel was so obese that he hadn't
been able to get out of his house for seven
years. In fact, for more than half a year he
hadn’t even been able to get out of bed.
When they got him to the hospital Mister
Deuel was too far gone for the gastric bypass
surgery they thought he needed, so hospital
dieticians put him on a strict 1,200 calories-a-
day regimen. That's less than one supersized
Big Mac meal.
Mister Deuel rallied and the bypass surgery
was performed successfully last October. Last
week there was a newspaper photograph of the
man walking across the Avera McKennan
hospital lobby.
Sort of.
He is supporting himself on two aluminum
walkers. He is wearing running shoes, sweat
pants and a tee shirt. He is barely recognizable
as a human being. His torso is bulging, his
belly distended and sagging almost to his
knees. He has giant fat rolls on his back.
Even his elbows have double chins.
But what’s really sobering is - this is the
new Patrick Deuel. After he’s shed a mind
blowing 450 pounds.
He’s now down to a svelte 610 pounds and
hopes (some day) to bottom out a^around 240.
1 wish him luck and I owe him big time.
He’s a personal inspiration to me.
I’ve put that newspaper photo of Patrick
Deuel where I figure it will do me the most
good.
Scotch-taped to my refrigerator door.
up to go knocking on doors pleading for votes.
They also have seen backroomers run and be
rejected. This discourages them from trying.
Voters tend to be wary of backroomers,
viewing them as a breed who watch the battle,
but don’t get into it.
They also see them as manipulators who
often bend the truth and are rewarded when
their party is in power by its steering
taxpayers’ money to them, the most generous
dispensers being Tories under Davis and
Harris.
Elected politicians rate low on the scale of
professions people admire, but at least have
been prepared to enter the public arena. And
backroom strategists would rate even lower.
Tory is being accepted more than other
backroom strategists because he is articulate,
earnest, restrained, not glib and has moderate
policies.
He has not taken huge sums of money from
governments he worked for, perhaps because
his family is wealthy particularly from
communications and he does not need any.
Voters also mostly have forgotten his role in
the backrooms and he was given a safe riding
to run in - not all his tasks will be as easy.
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Bonnie
Gropp
The short of it
Time to appreciate
It was one of those all too rare relaxing
evenings. Nothing to do but kill time; a
peaceful end indeed to a pleasant day of
warming temperatures, sunny skies and
melting snow.
Needless to say my mood was calmly
upbeat. There was a serenity and good humour
that comes to me only with the lengthening
days.
And then...
“Just think. Six more months and it will be
fall.”
I can only assume that a previously hidden
sadistic streak prompted this out-of-the-blue
remark from my hubby. Sadistic because as
most of us know, a half a year really is never as
long as it should be.
I can’t imagine why the reality would be as
everyone says, that time passes more quickly
the older you get. But 1 admit I have become
protective of the minutes, hours and days, as
they do seem to be gliding just a little too
slickly through my life.
Each Monday arrives with the same
nostalgic feeling for a weekend gone too
quickly, and a big sigh for a long work week
ahead. Then in a blink of an eye it’s Friday
again.
I have barely recovered from my last
birthday and find myself half-way to another.
And the swiftness with which I have reached
middle-age adds another twist to this. Passing
by a mirror, I am occasionally nonplussed to
see the face of an older woman looking back.
Life has moved on such silent quick feet that
parts have me have failed to keep up. Heart and
mind tick along feeling quite young. But then
a new ache or a new wrinkle brings me to the
real world.
And that world, despite the fact that as a
babyboomer I belong to the majority, suddenly
seems full of younger people. The first hint of
this came when my physician decided to
retire. His replacement? A much vounger doc
with years of practice ahead of him.
While at the time it was not a huge age
difference, it did give me a bit of an odd
feeling to realize that for the first lime I was
putting my health in the hands of someone
younger than me.
Next was the spiritual health. When I was
growing up the minister of our church was
grey-haired, quiet in conversation, fire and
brimstone from the pulpit, /certainly took him
seriously. The same could be said of those
since.
However, when our most recent minister left
a few years ago, the congregation extended a
call to a handsome, long-haired fellow. Call it
a failing on my part, but it was initially strange
to be seeking spiritual guidance from someone
not much older than my eldest child.
Then the other day I happened to notice a
group of police officers. And I really felt old.
Round-faced, and not a crow’s foot in sight,
they hardly commanded authority. It doesn’t
seem that long ago that a cop was an older guy,
grudgingly revered, occasionally feared. With
these boys, I had more of an urge to comb their
hair.
Children are in schools teaching children.
Fresh-faced girls are my fashion gurus.
Interestingly, it seems only in careers of
finance and insurance do I encounter my
world-weary peers.
It can be a little scary thinking how quickly
I got here. But that only makes me appreciate
ever,' minute flying through my day. There is
certainly not enough time to take it for granted.