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The Citizen, 2008-08-14, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 14, 2008. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt Postcard perfect Are you the outdoorsy type? Then jump into your Tilley shorts, grab your walking staff and hie yourself either to the Signal Hill National Historic Site in St. John’s, Newfoundland or to Kejimkujik National Park in Nova Scotia. Parks Canada has a once-in-a-lifetime deal waiting for you. Hikers who show up at either park will get to use a multimedia GPS device to ‘enhance their learning and overall experience’. They’ll be able to see their location on a map and even ‘interact’ with location-related text, images, sound, video and quizzes. Parks Canada is very gung-ho about this pilot project. Alan Latournelle, chief executive officer, says “We feel that this innovative technology will attract new audiences, especially young, technologically-savvy Canadians”. Um…Alan? A little bug in your ear: prepare to be underwhelmed. Most people who go to parks aren’t seeking a cyberspatial on-line experience. I know when I’m in the outdoors the idea of hauling a palmtop out of my haversack to participate in a video quiz is ‘way low on my list of priorities. Can’t blame the parks people for trying, though. Their facilities haven’t exactly been setting standing-room-only attendance records of late. A survey reported by Scientific American magazine reveals that across North America, outdoor activities have been attracting fewer and fewer participants every season for almost the last 20 years. Researchers pored over records from most of the last century, tracking visits to parks and forests as well as licenses purchased for hunting and fishing. They found that up until the 1980s there was a steady increase in all monitored outdoor activities. Then, between 1981 and 1991, everything kind of levelled off. After that, it’s been all downhill, dropping at a rate of roughly one percent each year, for an overall decrease that is currently climbing into the 25 per cent range. Twenty-five per cent is huge. If outdoor hiking was a stock, exchange traders would be screaming SELL! What’s caused the decline? Paranoia is a big part of it. Nowadays we routinely teach our kids to be wary of public spaces and not to trust anybody they meet out there. The first poem they learn is: ‘Stranger – danger!’ If a kid’s too scared to walk to the corner store by himself, what are the chances of getting him to take a hike in the woods? Are we right to be so fearful for our kids? Lenore Skenazy doesn’t think so. She’s the mother of a nine-year-old and they live in New York City. Last spring, succumbing to constant nagging, she outfitted her boy Izzy with a shiny MetroCard (it’s what New Yorkers use to pay the fare on city buses and subways), a map of the subway system, a $20 bill, and a fistful of quarters for pay phones. Then she turned him loose in Bloomingdale’s department store and told him to make his own way home. Nine years old. In deepest, darkest New York City. Did he get knifed by drug dealers? Pummelled unconscious by roving gangs of Puerto Ricans? Robbed? Assaulted by pedophiles? Snatched from the sidewalk and sold into White Slavery? Nah. The kid made it back safe and sound, arriving home, as his mother recalled, “ecstatic with independence”. What’s illuminating about the experience is not that a young kid managed to travel unmolested across the belly of a big city in broad daylight. Hundreds of thousands – no, millions – of people do it every day. What’s illuminating is the reaction Lenore Skenazy got when she wrote a story about it for a local newspaper, The New York Sun. She was pilloried. She was reviled. She was accused of being a dangerously unfit mother. Her reaction? Hey, she’s a New Yorker, remember. She laughed at her detractors and told them to get a grip. She also started up a brand new website called freerangekids@wordpress.com. It’s dedicated to giving “our kids the freedom we had,” says Skenazy. I predict the website will be swamped with responses from nostalgic oldsters who remember those four magic words we all heard routinely when we were kids: “Go outside and play.” I also predict that Parks Canada’s “Interactive Experience” in Nova Scotia and Newfoundland and Labrador is not going to fly. I don’t think young people are going to show up in our parks to play computer games. They’re too preoccupied playing computer games in their rec rooms. Arthur Black Other Views Go outside and play Premier Dalton McGuinty has got more Ontarians cycling than ever before, but is not doing enough to ensure they ride safely. The Liberal premier has removed the province’s sales tax from bicycles costing up to $1,000 and urged residents to cycle to exercise, and cut gas consumption and pollution. Stores say they are having record sales. But cyclists still have a lot to worry about. A woman killed a cyclist recently when she opened her car door in his path and knocked him in front of a van, an accident cyclists call the “door prize” and which they fear, as it has killed many over years. Police at first said it was unlikely they would charge the driver, because the cyclist may have been hidden by some blind spot. But after an outcry, she was charged with improperly opening the door, which carries a maximum $110 fine. The motorist could have been charged with operating a vehicle dangerously and faced more severe penalties. What is a cyclist’s life worth? This writer, who cycles to and from the legislature, which may reveal a bias, has been a recipient of the door prize and knocked to the ground, but luckily when travelling slowly. Every cyclist passes parked cars, worried that a door will suddenly open. Cyclists’ other concerns include vehicles passing at up to 40 kilometres an hour within a foot or two of them, when the province advises they should leave at least a three-foot space. Cars race past cyclists to make a right turn and cut them off. Some pull out of side streets and laneways a few feet in front of cyclists, which they would never risk in front of another vehicle, knowing cyclists have no alternative but to brake sharply and, in a collision, only the cyclist will be hurt. Some cities including Toronto, have so- called bicycle lanes for cyclists, but too few, and cars are allowed to park in many, forcing cyclists into traffic. Cars officially are not allowed to park in others, but park every day without being ticketed. The offenders include police, because for six months three of their cars have totally blocked the bike lane outside the Chinese consulate on this rider’s route, monitoring an average of two sad-looking demonstrators and forcing cyclists into traffic, while legal parking spaces across the narrow street remain unoccupied. If police cannot observe the law, why should others? Motorists need to cease these dangerous practices without qualification, but cyclists should contribute by ending practices that are dangerous to them and cost the respect of motorists. These include weaving in and out of traffic. This writer’s unscientific estimate is that about 70 per cent totally ignore stop signs, except where traffic forces them to stop. Twenty-nine per cent slow and only one per cent come to a full stop. The last time this happened this writer felt moved to catch up with the unusual cyclist and congratulate him. At least 80 per cent of cyclists ride without lights after dark and sometimes almost as much on sidewalks as streets, harassing pedestrians essential to their cause. The province needs to toughen laws and direct that they be enforced. McGuinty’s strong suit has been protecting citizens, so he sometimes is accused of creating a nanny state. In transportation he has required safeguards including more efficient car seats for children and safer driving around school buses, but not done much to protect cyclists. What the legislature needs is more MPPs who cycle to work, as did Kelso Roberts, a Conservative so senior he led on the first ballot for leader and premier in the 1960s and arrived at his office on an ancient bone-shaker that looked as if it should have been in a museum. New Democrat Marilyn Churley, put strong men to shame by cycling to her office only recently. But ministers come to Queen’s Park insulated from traffic in their limousines. None of them knows the problems of sweaty, apprehensive cyclists first-hand. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk The water tickled gently at the edges of the pool as two rubber-winged cherubs wiggled and giggled. The kaleidoscopic colours of a well- maintained garden, the wave of people in the mall, green parkland by a scenic river and music that rocked a lullaby. A landscape of concrete reaching toward the clouds, the lake’s gentle lap to shore. Feeling the summertime blues and splashing in puddles. These were the wish-you-were-here postcard memories of a full and eclectic vacation. There were many days this spring and summer when I left my house each workday with a longing glance back and a fervent wish to remain. Mornings began with a slow, sad dawning, and swift, strong desire to ease into reality and sequester myself at home. Thus it was, this year, that I had decided when my summer vacation arrived I wasn’t going anywhere. I was going to remain at home to enjoy leisurely days. Then the alarm-clock beep of the trucks, the chomp and grind of construction equipment moved into the neighbourhood and that plan seemed a whole lot less attractive. Realizing that the notion of a restful summer holiday at home was now as unrealistic as expecting that street project to finish on schedule, I had to start doing some planning. One of the first things that came to mind, was this would be a great opportunity to catch up on some visiting which until now time had not permitted. Dates were chosen, calls were made and the calendar began to fill. Next, we began to notice our vacation was co-ordinating nicely with certain special events we typically do, or would like to attend, so these too got penciled in. The end result was a sojourn that was restfully entertaining, beginning to end. A holiday should get off to a great start and mine certainly did. No sooner had my work ended then my older daughter arrived for an overnight visit. She left the next day and I headed to solitude in a motel room at our old summer stomping grounds. For two days I relaxed poolside, visited with family and enjoyed dinner out when my hubby (poor dear) finished work for the day. A brief catch-up at home and it was off to my sister’s in Barrie where time was spent sitting, sipping, supping and chilling. We returned back in time to hit Stratford and celebrate in the park with Ronnie Hawkins and tens of thousands of his friends. After a day to regroup we headed for a night in a Toronto hotel, courtesy of our younger daughter. Enroute home it was a stop at the Kitchener blues festival, where, despite some lousy weather we still got to hear some great music, before heading west to spend Sunday lakeside. Granted there was nothing spectacular about this little break of mine. I didn’t track bears or climb mountains. I didn’t see exotic places or sip a hundred-year-old wine. But it was sure special for me. It was everyone and everything I love, all the elements of life I usually try to squeeze in between responsibility and work. This time I was able to do them in an easy relaxing manner. You could use the adage that rather than working for a living, I was working at living. The effect was fulfilling, relaxing and had me feeling very blessed. It really couldn’t have been much better. Cycling cheaper, but still dangerous 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 guideline. The Citizen reserves the right to refuse any letter on the basis of unfair bias, prejudice or inaccurate information. 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