The Citizen, 1991-03-13, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, MARCH 13, 1991. PAGE 5.
Looking for
heaven on earth
...a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
a flask of Wine, a Book of verse -- and
Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness --
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
Well, that sounds rather comfy. Ye olde
poetaster Eddie Fitzgerald pretty well
covered the basic human necessities --
something for the belly, a bit of bubbly, a
few printed stanzas of doggerel for mental
stimulation and a warm squeezable partner
of the opposite gender to share it all with.
That’s not bad, as human Utopias go.
Still, it has its limitations. 1 mean, how
long can you sit under a tree chugging
Baby Duck, reading Irving Layton and
listening to your True Love warble “Feel
ings”. What happens if it rains? Or some
knuckle-dragger with a mega-decibel suit
case radio on his shoulder comes along and
lays claim to an adjacent hummock?
How about ants?
That’s the trouble with most man-made
Heaven-On-Earths - folks forget to read
the fine print.
Take Plato’s Republic. Now, Plato
owned one of the most brilliant minds ever
The curse
of spelling
BY RAYMOND CANON
One of the greatest curses of my early
years was trying to get on top of English
spelling. To be honest with you I must
admit that it is still one of my problems and
few, if any, are the people who ever
conquer it.
The trouble with English is that it has
this infuriating knack of saying something
one way and spelling it another. If there is
a rule, it has 10 words which follow it and
200 exceptions. To make matters worse, it
even has silent letters and it is without a
doubt one of the greatest wonders of the
universe that English has become accepted
as the closest thing to an international
language that we have.
Some languages such as Italian, Spanish
and German do not have the same problem
at all since they are 99 per cent phonetic
and, once you say a word, you know how to
spell it. I’m not sure what caused English
to be so mixed up; it may be that it is due to
its French heritage. When William the
Conquerer defeated the English at the
Battle of Hastings and brought his court
and his language with him, he gave the
Britons a taste of a language that was just
about as mixed up in its spelling as English
is. You will probably not be surprised to
learn that I went through the same agonies
with French that I did with English. Just
when 1 thought that 1 had everything under
control, along comes the French govern
ment and states that there are going to be a
considerable number of spelling changes to
bring the language “up to date” as it were.
The trouble with the French is that they
don’t know when to let well enough alone.
English just rambles on and changes are
both few and far between. Those that do
come about seem to come naturally. We
don’t have to listen to dictates from
Ottawa, Washington or London as to the
latest revisions in our language.
The French, on the other hand, like to
tinker with theirs. 1 should add that, along
with this urge to tinker goes a passion that
most English speaking people cannot
understand. While English absorbs all
sorts of foreign words with hardly a hiccup,
the French resent any intrusion of such
words. This is not to say that they manage
to keep them out. On the contrary, they are
fighting a losing battle since English is a
persuasive and insidious language; it
to inhabit a human cranium. One would
think when such a thinker bent his
philosophical skills to creating an imagin
ary paradise it would be one swell place,
no?
No. When it came to citizenship in
Plato’s Republic, only the elite need apply.
“Inferior” children were to be killed at
birth. All marriages were to be arranged
according to genetic considerations.
Sort of like the “Perfect Nation” dream
of that other chap — what was his name?
Adolph something?
Thomas More’s idea of earthly paradise
wasn’t a whole lot more appealing. In 1516,
the British philosopher wrote a book called
“Utopia”. It was all about a wonderful
place - providing you were free, white and
male. In More’s “Utopia”, slavery was to
be practiced and women were to be kept
firmly under the old patriarchal thumb.
Even Shangri-La had warts. The mythi
cal Tibetan lamasery where the living was
easy and time stood still was alas, also less
than perfect. Sure, folks got to live a couple
of hundred years - but only if they never
left town. One trip across the county line
for a Saturday night dance and poof -
biology plays catch-up. Inmates who
enjoyed perpetual youth back in the
compound suddenly resembled large, very
old raisins.
So what’s a person looking for Heaven
on Earth to do?
Well, there’s always the island of Nauru.
creeps in at every occasion. Thus the
French have to contend with la party, le
week-end, le pullover, le speaker, to name
only a few.
To fight back, the government appointed
Conseil Superieur de la Langue Francaise,
has just announced a series of reforms that
is going to mean for me and all the other
dedicated French speakers hours of reach
ing for dictionaries and the like.
Some changes are not too bad. Foreign
words, such as le blue-jean and le fair-play
lose their hyphen and become bluejean and
fairplay. Then it gets a bit sticky, in order
to make some English words look more
French, and word ending in -er now
becomes -eur so le speaker will now be
written le speakeur; le leader will change
to le leadeur. From then on it gets more
and more arbitrary. For those of you who
are studying French either in school or
elsewhere, you may be interested to learn
that oignon (onion) is now to be written
Use BBB for postal complaints
THE EDITOR,
Is your community still reeling from the
proposed rate hike which threatened
weekly newspapers across the country?
Now the latest - how about that new
brochure from Canada Post and the Better
Business Bureau! Now the idea is, that it
suggests, if you have complaints or
inquiries about postal service, you can now
contact your local Better Business Bureau
(if all else fails).
Nowhere in the flyer is any mention of
how to get in touch with your ‘local’ BBB.
On checking, we discovered there are six
bureaus in Ontario, none of which has a toll
free 1-800 number. And none, as you’ll see
from the following list, will be of much help
to people outside Ottawa, Metro Toronto,
the heavily-populated areas of central or
western Ontario. But, here they are
anyway: BBB of western Ontario, P.O. Box
2153, Station A, London N6A 4E3 (519-673-
2222); BBB of midwestern Ontario, 220
Charles Street East, Kitchener N2G 2P7
(519-579-3080).
One of fhe reasons you may find this list
useful is that Canada Post is now stepping
up its efforts to close Corporate post offices
in rural Ontario and replace them with
Nauru isn’t the figment of anyone’s
imagination. It’s a coral atoll in the middle
of the South Pacific. It only covers about
eight square miles, but that’s okay because
there are only about 5,000 people living
there.
And what a life. The average annual
income of every inhabitant — man, woman
and babe in arms - is $20,000 U.S. And
here’s the kicker: They don’t have to do a
lick of work to collect. Nauru is one big
phosphate mine. (Bird poop, not to put too
fine a point on it). Australia mines the
phosphate and pays the citizens of Nauru
big bucks for the privilege. The result:
Nauruans are rich beyond their wildest
dreams. So rich they don’t even have to
bother shovelling the phospate on to ships.
Three thousand labourers are imported
from elsewhere to do the dirty work.
Which means all Nauruans have to do
the live long day is lie around and spend,
spend, spend. And they do. Most have cars
and TVs, even though there’s nowhere to
drive and nothing much to watch. Naur
uans are prone to alcoholism and suicide.
They also have some of the highest
incidences of obesity, diabetes and heart
disease in the world.
But there’s some good news. The
phosphate is running out. Some day soon
Nauruans are going to be able to escape
from Heaven on Earth and join the real
world.
ognon since that is how it is really
pronounced. My question is why that word
and not some of the others in French which
are still not written the way they are
pronounced.
Getting back to English, when will we
get around to using nite instead of night, or
getting rid of the silent k in knife or knight.
Much as I deplore it, “he plays good” may
some day be acceptable while the word
“whom” seems to be going into perma
nent decline. The French have also been
saying “It’s me” for centuries while “It’s
I” still is defeated in English.
One of the biggest jobs the French have
now is going through all the works of their
marvellous literature and making the
necessary changes. Perhaps the next time
we have a recession, we should make a
number of spelling changes and hire
people to go through all the books in our
libraries to make the necessary corrections.
private outlets. These outlets seriously
devalue work traditionally done by post
masters; in fact, the contracts are so poor
that many business people refuse to sign
them.
Over the past four years Canada Post has
closed 246 federal post offices to date in
Ontario. Canada Post is specifically tar
getting 50 post offices now staffed by
so-called ‘term’ employees, many of whom
have provided years of committed service
to their communities. “In this area, post
offices in Belgrave and Ethel are staffed by
‘term’ postmasters. Both they and their
post offices are threatened by these
closures.”
We urge you to take action now. Write or
phone the Better Business Bureau. Call
your Member of Parliament. You can make
a difference, just as the recent, vocal
campaign by weekly newspapers to stop
Canada Post’s March 1 postal rate increas
es made a difference (by winning a delay in
the new rates). It does pay to speak up!
Mary Anne Doyle, President
Ontario Branch Canadian Postmasters
and Assistants Association
Finch, Ontario. K0C 1K0
Tel. 613-984-2460
FAX: 613-984-2790
Letter
from the
editor
A perfect time
■ <> n-».
for baseball dreamers
BY KEITH ROULSTON
I must admit this is my favourite time of
the baseball season.
Oh I follow the sport in the heat of the
summer and I keep tuning in the sports
every morning in September if the Jays or
Expos are in the thick of a pennant chase
but somehow things are never as nice as
they are in exhibition time in March.
Part of it comes from the expectation of
the future. I’ve always been one for whom
the thought of eating some candy treat or
delicious dessert was more enjoyable than
the actual tasting. So it is in baseball.
Knowing the players are down there in
Florida or Arizona running around on nice
green grass in the warm sunshine is
somehow more enjoyable than when they
play on the plastic turf of their debt-ridden
playpens up north once the heat has
arrived. There’s the sure knowledge that
even if the snow keeps falling, even if the
temperature still plunges every night,
spring is on the way and baseball will be
back in less than a month.
Then too there’s the ability to dream at
this time of the year before reality sets in.
You can hear about the talented new rookie
and dream of the impact he’ll make in the
league before it’s discovered a month from
now that he can’t hit a major league curve
ball. You can go down the Jays or Expos
lineups and mentally tote up the astound
ing number of homeruns and stolen bases
the hitters will get and the number of
victories the pitching staff will rack up.
This year has been the kind of year when
Blue Jay fans have hardly been able to wait
for. Ever since the blockbuster trades of
December that totally changed the look of
the team, fans have been waiting impa
tiently to see what the new team would be
like on the field (on paper fans have
already conceded Jays the World Series).
Unfortunately reality has already set in
a little. The Jays have stumbled at the
beginning of the exhibition schedule,
losing three of their first four games. Still,
that’s the beauty of the exhibition sche
dule: if your team loses, you say it doesn’t
matter until the season officially starts; if it
wins you can be sure it augers well for the
season ahead.
What impatient fans have had to endure
between December and March besides
snow storms has been an avalanche of
insanity and whining on the baseball salary
front. We’ve seen anybody that can swing
a bat or throw a ball who has hung around
long enough to be eligible for salary
arbitration or free agency, virtually guar
anteed of becoming a millionaire. We’ve
seen players get three times as much for
playing this year as they got last year.
But the most annoying part has been
listening to the crybabies who are making
millions grumbling because they aren’t
getting even more. At a time when millions
are without jobs, it’s hard to listen to the
bleats of Rickey Henderson. Rickey signed
a contract last year that made him one of
the highest paid players in the game
earning $3 million a year. But in the
meantime the insanity has spread and lots
of players have passed Rickey on the salary
ladder. Now he’s sulking and stayed out of
training camp demanding his contract be
renegotiated.
Then there’s Dwight Gooden who has
been offered close to $5 million a year by
the New York Mets but isn’t happy
because the Boston Red Sox have been
even crazier than the Mets and paid Roger
Clements well over $5 million a year.
These guys are enough to take the fun
out of the game but now that the spring sun
is shining, even these grouches can’t turn
off the baseball fan. We can dream of
future pennants and World Series wins
without the pressure that those games later
in the season will bring. We’re like kids
again, imagining being stars ourselves.
There’s no time like it.