The Citizen, 2009-07-09, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, JULY 9, 2009. PAGE 5.
Bonnie
Gropp
TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt
Fame is a mask that eats the face.
– John Updike
Shall I tell you why I don’t like David
Suzuki? Nah. That’s so negative.
First, I’ll tell you why I do like Edie
Falco. Then I’ll tell you about my Suzuki
aversion.
Edie Falco? You know her – Carmela.
Carmela Soprano. She of the spun-candy
hairdos, the eagle talon fingernails and the
Joisey accent that made me think of eagle
talons scrooching down a blackboard.
The Sopranos is now TV history and so is
Carmela. Tony Soprano’s wife has
metamorphosed and moved on to a new TV
series called Nurse Jackie.
Falco’s ditched the accent, the nails and the
hairdos to play Jackie Peyton – a savvy, tough-
as-nails ER nurse in hospital scrubs and a
butch haircut, toting a boyfriend for nooners
and an eensy-weensy prescription drug habit.
I haven’t seen an episode of Nurse Jackie,
but I’m betting that when I do I won’t
catch a whiff of mafia mama in Falco’s
performance. I’m guessing I’ll barely
recognize her.
That’s not because of the cosmetic makeover
– it’s because she’s such a fine actor.
Falco doesn’t have Angelina Jolie looks or
Carol Burnett timing. She can’t dance like
Juliet Prowse or purr out a line like Diana
Krall, but she’s got something more valuable
and rare.
Call it stage presence, or charisma, or just
the It factor – but when the TV camera pans
over to Edie Falco, she owns it. The rest of the
cast might as well break for lunch.
And now I’ll tell you why I never felt much
warmth for David Suzuki.
It’s because of something I witnessed at a
luggage carousel in Vancouver airport about
20 years ago. I was at the tag end of a late
night flight from Toronto waiting for my bags
to be regurgitated. So were about 30 other
passengers, among them David Suzuki.
Well, it happens, right? How many times
have you been on an airplane or at a train
station when some NHL star or Ottawa
politico or TV luminary practically bumps into
you?
Happens often enough.
The correct procedure is just to go about
your business – maybe fire off a little smile of
recognition, but that’s it. We’re not in LA or on
West Broadway.
This is Canada, eh? We don’t fuss.
And we certainly don’t gush.
Except this time, somebody did. An earnest,
red-faced, middle-aged, middle class guy
walked up to Suzuki beaming like a
lighthouse. He was clearly in awe.
He told Suzuki how much he enjoyed The
Nature of Things and how he’d never missed
an edition of the radio show Quirks and
Quarks and how he thought Suzuki was a
Great Canadian and oughtta run for Prime
Minister…
And Suzuki stoned him. Just stood there,
staring woodenly, waiting for the guy to stop
talking and go away.
After a few seconds of icy silence, the
unabashed admirer got the message and slunk
off. It was not a nice thing to witness.
And, though it was none of my business, it
pissed me off. Sure, the fan was pushing the
boundaries, but he meant no harm.
It would have been easy enough for Suzuki
to mumble a ‘thanks’. Wasn’t like the guy was
hitting on him or looking for a handout.
In any case, it coloured my opinion of one of
Canada’s most illustrious citizens for, as I say,
the past 20 years or so.
Right up until I read an interview with the
aforementioned Edie Falco. She was talking to
a Globe and Mail reporter about her old TV
series and what was good about it.
And what was not so good about it. The
Sopranos was only on the air for six years but
it embedded Carmela Soprano’s face onto the
brainpans of hundreds of millions of people
around the world.
“It’s hard for me to have so many people
know me,” Falco says. “I’m a private person.
In the morning, I’m walking my dog, I’m
taking my kids to school, I’ve got my hat on.
But people are going, ‘Oh my god – it’s you!’
and they want some kind of equally excited
response.
I used to feel obligated to join them ‘OH,
THANK YOU!’ I’m feeling less obligated
now, and I’m afraid it makes me come across
as being cold or unkind or ungrateful, which is
not the case. It’s just a way of holding on to
your selfness.”
Yeah. I guess I never thought of that.
Bob Dylan is both more famous and blunter
about celebrity.
“Just because you like my stuff” Dylan says,
“doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”
Good point.
And Suzuki? Sorry about the 20-year
misunderstanding, man.
Not that I’ll be coming up to you at the
luggage carousel to apologize.
Arthur
Black
Other Views Hey, Suzuki – sorry about that
Ontario’s Progressive Conservatives are
not exactly dancing in the streets
after choosing a new leader and there
are good reasons their celebrations are
muted.
Leadership races are supposed to give
parties a lift in popularity, or bounce, but the
Tories, who picked Tim Hudak, instead hurt
themselves more than Premier Dalton
McGuinty’s Liberals.
The Tories sustained their most noted injury
when Hudak proposed to reduce the powers of
the Ontario Human Rights Commission,
which looks into systemic discrimination,
and eliminate the Human Rights
Tribunal, which adjudicates on individual
complaints.
The Tribunal has made a few rulings that can
be argued with, but the system, which has
existed under different names since
the 1940s and protects against discrimination
based on colour, religion, sex, age and other
characteristics, has helped many.
Hudak’s onslaught on it will hurt the
Conservatives in an election due in 2011 and
even if he waters it down the Liberals can paint
him as a threat to it.
The Tories’ second big handicap is
that Hudak has attached himself as
if by Krazy Glue to the philoso-
phies of the extreme right wing former
premier, Mike Harris, who started by
being admired for cutting taxes, but
wound up disliked for weakening
services.
Hudak undoubtedly will try to look a bit
different by showing he also has concerns
about the needy. He already has started by
saying his first priorities will include reaching
out to immigrants.
This resentment against Harris also has to
fade sometime, but is strong enough the
Liberals may be able to raise it against Hudak
and hurt him in 2011.
Questions remain about Hudak’s abilities.
He has been a reasonably alert spokesperson
on finance, but still not assured he has the
rounded skills and passion to be a major force
as leader.
In fairness, this was true of some other
leaders who proved successes. McGuinty was
unnoticed as an opposition spokesperson and
won leader only because fellow-Liberals
disliked rival candidates more. But he found
new abilities as leader in both opposition and
government.
Hudak’s political judgment has to be
questioned. He criticized the human rights
bodies after a rival for leader, Randy
Hillier, attacked them and won support
from party extremists. But Hudak
may feel genuinely they have short-
comings.
However Hudak should have understood
this issue has been pushed by only a small,
vocal group, who view anything government
does to protect as another step toward a
“nanny state,” and he would gain an
insignificant number of votes attacking the
rights bodies compared to those he would lose
from the general public and particularly
immigrants.
Hudak also should have noted the example
of his predecessor as leader, John Tory,
blundering in a leadership campaign
by proposing the province fund more faith-
based schools and being stuck with it
in the 2007 election. This enabled McGuinty
to accuse the Conservatives of wanting to
divide the community on religious
lines and cost them any chance of winn-
ing.
Ontario’s human rights laws are held in such
respect Hudak could be hurt almost as
much.
Hudak misjudged the public mood
spectacularly on human rights and he may
misjudge it on other issues.
The leadership race has left the
Conservatives as divided between those
favouring and opposing Harris’s policies as
they were when he retired in 2002, which
means that tug of war in the party will
continue.
The pro-Harris activists won leadership
because they are zealous and show up to vote.
But a large proportion of the party sees itself
as Conservative financially, but committed
to help the vulnerable, and it will not fade
away.
The race for leader produced few
enlightened ideas for helping the province
with its biggest problem, the economic
recession, and Hudak relied more on an
old Harris cure, getting tougher with
unions.
The Conservatives may be counting on the
Liberal government digging its own
grave by such abuses as its outrageous
waste on a new health records system,
but this leadership campaign will not
give them the bounce they hoped
for.
Eric
Dowd
FFrroomm
QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk
It has become an all-too-familiar state of
being. That fuzzy addled feeling, thoughts
ajumble, unfocused. Clarity struggles to
fight through a sluggish haze. Ideas and vision
do not come easily.
My mind refused to clear, my energy was
non-existent. Bone weary and suffering I
worked through the week one step at a time
wondering all the while what inspires these
physical phases.
For days, weeks, occasionally even months,
everything will be tickety-boo, until, without
rhyme or reason there follows the crash. It’s as
if all my senses fall asleep, while all the bones
and muscles suddenly wake up to the reality
they’re not as young as they used to be. From
nose to toes I hurt. And the mind-numbing
exhaustion frustrates me no end.
The other day, I think I found the answer to
my question on my own, not surprisingly, from
my role as Mom. Upon learning that my eldest,
a teacher with an extremely demanding
volunteer schedule, woke the first day of his
summer holiday with a temperature of 103° I
didn’t take long to deliver my diagnosis. “I
think,” I admonished, “that your body finally
told you it’s had enough for a while.”
In the hurly burly of life, it’s common for
people to keep on running well after the battery
has drained. Fast forward is so much a part of
day-to-day, that it seems almost sinful to take
some time to recharge.
But that couldn’t possibly be what’s wrong
with me, I thought. After all, I seize my
moments. A good book will always take
precedent over many things.
However, it’s also a fact that when the head
is full, and responsibilities are screaming,
the battle to concentrate on even a great
book can be almost as exhausting as
work.
Complete relaxation comes from removing
yourself and involving all your senses.
Our recent break in pristine northern Ontario
was testimony to that.
The release began early. Wending our way
down a curvy road, while a lovely cello
instrumental poured from the radio, I watched
the beautiful scenery move gracefully by. The
sensory fulfillment was so complete it actually
overwhelmed me, and with no small amount of
shock I realized I had begun to cry.
For the rest of the time, caught in a place
where hustle and bustle are given short shrift in
the big scheme of things, where the word hurry
had been depleted from vocabulary, my mind
often blanked. Hours that required no more of
me than that I listen to nothing and look at
everything, passed easily.
By the time we left, I was as mellow as an
old hippie. Laid-back and totally relaxed, I felt
like I’d had the most restful of sleeps for days
on end.
Unlike an old hippie, however, my mind was
clear. Thoughts were sharp, concentration
keen. I was rejuvenated, body and soul ready to
take on the world again.
Funny how it took several days to undo the
damage, and just a few short hours to get it
back. By the time my reality had resumed and
I was back behind the desk, I soon felt the old
stresses infiltrating the psyche, squeezing the
breath of life I’d recaptured out of me. By the
end of that week pain had wrapped itself back
through the muscles of my shoulders and neck.
I fought to keep the words, thoughts and
necessities straight in my head as I ran from
duty to responsibility.
And in the crazy I lost me again. Last week
was a good reminder that I don’t want that to
happen anymore. I’ve promised myself that
next time it gets close my senses and I are out
of here. We’re going to go find mellow again.
Tories not dancing in the streets
Finding mellow