Greece

What did I say about Greece? No one pays taxes there and now they have been bailed out yet again to the tune of billions. Saw a clip of a woman protesting in the streets of Athens who said....."The government has to keep giving us money so we can live and buy things and keep the economy going." I kid you not. What she forgets is that she is the "government". She and her fellow citizens have to give "themselves" money, not the other way around. A very few reporters talked about the culture of tax evasion, but the rest just covered outraged Greeks who don't want their standard of living cut in any way, shape or form.

Talked to a restauranteur last evening who hails from Lebanon. "People in my country are exactly the same. No one pays taxes," he declared. "Whenever I arrive home here in Canada and see the 'Welcome to Canada' banner in the airport, I almost fall to my knees with gratitude to live here." But he then went on to complain that the politicians waste a lot of tax money. "Sometimes I resent paying taxes," he added. Yes, politicians do pour money down the drain. But we still have to pay them to cover the inevitable waste vote garnering creates; the rest is left over to run the country. You can't stop paying taxes because politicians waste some of it. That's the price of doing business in a well-run country like Canada. Taxes go to waste, infrastructure and the greater good of the community.

Another tax clinic delivered.

Following the logic.........

...it's kind'a like criticizing someone who is a passionate soccer player. You don't play soccer yourself, but would you dare visit with a friend who loves the sport and crap on soccer and the whole corrupt soccer "scene" to their face? Or, say you think pilates is stupid, but you've never tried it. Or you have tried it and you still think it's stupid. Would you have lunch with a friend who loves pilates and crap all over it? No. You would be polite.

"G-d, are you still playing soccer? That's pathetic. I know a few soccer players who are losers. I would never play soccer." Or, "Pilates? I tried that, but it didn't do a thing for me. In fact, I hated my instructor, so pilates is just completely immoral." Those are conversations one would never have. But for some reason, people feel free to criticize the Catholic Church with complete abandon to the faces of others who actually practice it. Some of us get a lot out of our faith. Others get a lot out of soccer or pilates. I mean, leave it alone.

The point is it seems always to be open season on the Catholic Church. Maybe it's due to the fact that the Catholic Church continues to grow in spite of the many problems within it? Or maybe it's because the Catholic Church unquestionably accepts all sinful mortals? A convert, I grew up a protestant and the one thing that struck me was the attitude to the downtrodden. If a bag lady wandered into a protestant church basement during sunday school or a bazaar (and it used to happen regularly in our downtown church), the police would be called. But if a bag lady wanders into the Catholic Church, she is welcomed as a kindred soul. It's the universality of the church that is so appealing. In fact, if you look it up in the dictionary you will find small-c "catholic" defined as "universal, general, comprehensive, large-hearted, tolerant". Where do you think that definition came from?

Mass in Ottawa is the same as Mass in Nicaragua is the same as Mass in Budapest is the same as Mass in Hong Kong is the same as Mass in Rome is the same as Mass in Kitchener is the same as Mass in Washington.........you name it. No matter where you are on a Sunday, the Liturgy is exactly the same. But never mind Sunday's. If the mood hits you on a Tuesday morning, you can find nearby in any city in the world a Catholic Church serving Mass; if you're a protestant, you have to wait until Sunday. Now, don't jump up and accuse me of being anti-protestant. I'm not criticizing the protestants or any other faiths. But having lived in both worlds, I do have both perspectives. Immediate access reassues me.

And don't tell me there have never been sex scandals in the Jewish religion or the Islamic or the Anglican or the Protestant or the Baptist or the Evangelical..........or whatever. Don't tell me that. Not possible. We just never seem to hear about them. As I said, it is always open season on a universal success story. I do love my faith.

Not to be holier than thou, but............

She yakked the whole way through Mass yesterday. We were late, so sat at the back -- in the vestibule actually, right beside the anteroom where the emergency/taxi phone is. In walked a young woman who immediately got on the phone and blabbed the whole entire time. Through the readings, through the responsorial psalm, through the Gospel, through the homily, through the Consecration, through the Mass and Eucharistic prayer, through the Our Father and through the final blessing. I mean, seriously. Why go??!! The dirty looks you can imagine I shot her did nothing to shame or dissuade her from her chat. Does the woman not have a phone at home?

There was respect for neither the Mass nor the worshippers wanting to participate. And as for the handicapped who have to sit back there, well, they just had to listen to her blabbing. And what did the ushers do? Nothing. That really bugged me. Yes, yes, I know. I should have risen above it all and ignored the background noise. But I couldn't. Just as I can't abide parents who bring their kids to Mass and set up an elaborate daycare operation to distract them -- complete with toys and snacks. I preferred smacks to snacks when my kids were young and acting up in Mass.

Ventured into taboo territory recently with a friend who is a lapsed Catholic. You can't really criticize the Church, I said, when you don't go. Always seems to me the biggest critics of the Church are those who don't have any religion. Weird.

What a curmudgeon I am.

In a cocked hat......

That's where Canadian values have been chucked. Apparently, our heritage has been erased, if you believe comments made by the head of the Canadian Sikh community on 'The Agenda' last evening. Articulate and well-meaning, this chap announced that Canadian values are based on the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Huh??!! No they're not. The Charter is about ten minutes old. Canada was founded on Judaeo-Christian principles, the Magna Carta, the ten commandments, the rule of law, do unto others, democracy...and all that stuff. It was not founded on my-right-to-do-whatever-I-please-whenever-I-please. But that's what we have become: a country in which the rights of the individual now supercede those of the greater community. That's the philosophy that bred the Vancouver hockey riots. How's that workin' for ya? Can't wait to move to Alberta. Just as England has moved out of London and into the countryside, so Canada has moved out of the Eastern cities and into the West.

Just for good measure, the next guests on Steve Pakin's usually sane show featured a woman who was enraged that Canada was not hands-on-involved in the internal politics of The Sudan, along with a guy representing Toronto's black community who wanted to know what Canada had done for black people since Pierre Trudeau. Whaaaaaaaaaat!$%#&%$!!?
I mean, seriously. The Sudan? Canada should be marching in the streets of Sudan? Josipa Petrunic, a "fellow" at U of T, was beside herself because..."many brilliant potential political candidates here in Canada were forced to go back to Sudan when Canada disengaged from that country's internal struggle". Isn't that where they should be in the first place, back engaging in the struggle in their own country? What am I missing here? Please tell me?

The Toronto guy sat there complaining that no one since Trudeau had done anything for the Black community. Huh? Apparently, that's the reason the black community is disengaged from Canada at the moment. Huh? Didn't Kennedy say, "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country". Huh? Isn't that the way it works? Apparently not in Toronto. This guy then had the gall to add that he had told his community not to vote for the party in power because they had decided not to fund a local cultural centre. Hey, fund your own.

Speaking of the hockey riots, the show next swung into a piece about the Vancouver police chief who was described as an "Asian Canadian". Apparently, his cultural background was one of the big reasons he was surprised at the brutality of the riots. Huh? Isn't a police chief supposed to know that stuff is coming? Isn't a police chief supposed to expect the worst? Isn't that what police are for? Aren't they supposed to protect us from our criminal selves? They're not there to high-five the crowds, for G-d's sake. If he doesn't resign, he should be fired for incompetence. Yeah, right. Just try that in Pol-Corr Vancouver. And isn't the chief a Canadian of (fill-in-the-blank extraction) -- not an "Asian Canadian"? The insanity of it all is very depressing. People seem to come to Canada bent on establishing a perfect version of their home countries. What they seem to forget is that they are in Canada -- not in a perfect Sudan or Jamaica or China. Poor old politically-correct Steve-O needs to give his head a shake!

And don't call any of this racist. It's cultural -- nothing to do with race. That's why so many Canadians don't speak up. They fall into the trap laid by the PCs that any discussion of culture is automatically racism. Don't go there. I'm not talking about a certain kind of police chief. I am discussing the generic job description of "police chief". As I said, it's a clever plot.

Getting ready to move, we have had to de-clutter and touch up. In the process I have discovered the greatest product know to man: liquid paper. Seriously, I needed to cover a few nicks here and there in the kitchen and bathrooms, but didn't want to get into a whole painting deal. Spying an old bottle of the stuff, I wondered if it would work on a cupboard edge? Perfectly. Just a little dab and the door was perfect. So armed, I proceeded to inspect the entire condo and am delighted to report that many dabs later, everything looks like new. It's completely amazing!

To my friends and colleagues in the tax department, I gave yet another lecture on how Canada works to an unsuspecting hotelier in Niagara-on-the-Lake. This chap was bragging about how he pays as little tax as possible. Looking around at the immaculate sidewalks, flower beds and lawns, I asked who paid for all this stuff? Well, he bragged, we do in our taxes. (He really should have said "they" do; he was big into tax evasion.) But that's it exactly. Don't want to pay taxes? Move to Greece or Spain or Italy or Portugal.......or wherever. That's what not paying your taxes gets you. Buddy, it's a privilege to pay taxes in this magnificent Canada. You don't get a heart transplant in the underground ecomony of Little Italy or Chinatown. That's not how it works. And the next time you find yourself bitching about being held up in traffic because of road work, remember: those are your beautiful tax dollars at work making your city more beautiful. Hey, as I said, if you don't want a working society, if you don't want a functional infrastructure, if you don't want health care, move to Greece or Spain or Italy or Portugal....or whatever.

Still a compelling force

Sitting on the verandah of the golf club on Sunday for Father's Day, I spotted a familiar sight walking purposefully toward our table. It was Jean Chretien. As he passed I said, "Prime Minister, lovely to see you." He stopped and came over. "Yes, Madame, lovely to see you too," as he stretched out his hand. I had never met the man, but ever the politician, he acted as if we were old friends. He chatted with us for a few minutes and then joined his table. The guy still has it. There is something about Chretien that immediately puts you at ease; he always seems in control of any situation. Remember his media interviews and scrums? "Well, you know, we have always had this or that and it's no problem, it's normal......"....even if he were speaking about nuclear war. Everything was normal, under control, run-of-the-mill. He sat with a group of men I knew were all arch conservatives -- consultants and media commentators. Yet there he was, King Liberal, his recognizable voice rising above the others. Politics still makes strange bedfellows.

The other PM we see from time to time turns up at the tennis club, where his kids are members. But Stephen Harper is not the charmer Jean is. In fact, Harper's presence is usually annoying because his security detail is all over the place, while Chretien's sits out of the way, in the parking lot under a shade tree.

Ottawa produces lots of random surprises like that.

I smell money

As I was saying, there are now doctors who get their medical degrees and specialize in non-specific pain management. Huh!??!! Isn't pain a sympton of an ailment or injury? I smell disability leave, workman's comp and unpenalized early retirement. "I've got pains here and there, not sure where and not sure why, but I really can't work." No problem, here are a few narcotic prescriptions and you're on your way! It just seems very peculiar for a doctor to go through a hundred years of medical school only to come out with a degree in general "pain" treatment. And I bet most of the pain we experience is self-inflicted.....you know, too fat, too lethargic, too drunk. Remember my blog about the waiting room of the orthopedic clinic at the General? Filled with people whose poor knees could not possibly move the bulk stuffed on top of them.

As I was also saying, we are moving to Calgary. I have landed a new job and have to re-locate. I have been promoted to grandmother. When the idea was floated, I thought, no way, Calgary? But then I started to realize that I have no grandchildren holding me here and none from my sons in the offing, so why not?! The other bonus is that the other grandchildren in my life -- the son and daughter of my step-daughter -- live in Houston, a place you cannot get to from Ottawa. Travelling there is a nightmare of Chicago, or Detroit, or Philadelphia, or Newark......not to mention the double dose of heavenly hours wasted schlepping through airport security. And it is ridiculously expensive for B and I to get there. But there are a couple of direct flights from Calgary to Houston every day, thanks to the oil patch industry. And when the kids are a little older, their parents can put them on a plane at one end and we can pick them up at the other. It all began to sound way better for us to be in Calgary than Ottawa. We'll be able to enjoy them on our own, without the recurrent annoyance of having to accomodate another parent's expectations. I'm not going to start all that again with this new generation, just not going to happen.

So, it's all good -- except the part about getting the condo ready to sell. What a nightmare! Called in the movers and literally half our stuff is now stored in their warehouse waiting for the big day. Soon we will be going to Calgary to find our new home and start a whole new life. Can't wait! My hairdresser suggested I change the name of my blog to "Redneck in High Heels". Think I may.

Bob and Doug McKenzie..........

Years ago we were at a party and a pompous guy was going on about the Winnipeg Ballet, how fabulous it was and how it was an integral part of "Canadian" culture. Wait a minute, I said, Canadian culture consists of Bob and Doug McKenzie and The Group of Seven. Lots of countries have ballets, so that's not "Canadian". But Bob and Doug and The Group of Seven, those are Canadian. He was not amused, as they say.

But I forgot The Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Now, there's CANADIAN for you! Just read that some people are upset that the RCMP will spend $11 million each year for the next three to promote the brand. Hey, go ahead.....spend more if you need to. If anything is wholeheartedly and beautifully "Canadian" it's the RCMP. The red serge, the musical ride -- what says "Canada" better to the rest of the world? Nothing. The article quoted a criminology professor from Simon Fraser U (where else) bleating about the fact that we should be spending that money on fighting organized crime instead of "leather polish and brasso" for the Ride. How can anyone be that dumb! "Organized crime" is what I'd call the tenure accorded most archaic university professors. Here's a guy who just doesn't get it. Thank God for the Musical Ride and the heritage it boasts around the world. Governments, criminals and professors come and go, but the Ride is constant. It makes every Canadian burst with pride.

Lots more to say about the latest quacks........doctors specializing in non-localized pain. And, we are moving to Calgary soon........more on why later. I am thinking of re-naming the blog "Redneck in High Heels". What do you think of that?

A true football hero passes

Art Schoenherr, a football hero at Lisgar, has died. I know no one reading this has heard of him, but he was the big man on campus. When I read the obituary, I could not believe it. Art Schoenherr!!?? No way. It was the same with Eric Vivian, another hero who died about three years ago. He was a local football hero, but Art I knew well; Eric was only a distant idol at Glebe.

I was in grade 12 and had to put on a dance act for the annual Lisgar concert. I knew nothing about dancing, but I was a pretty good athlete and head cheerleader (yes, I know, that last part is embarrassing), so I thought..."Why not ask all the football heros to be the principal dance partners?" At least, I thought, that would be a huge attraction.......to see these big gridiron gladiators prancing around on their tiptoes to jazz music. Because I approached Art first, the rest of them had to agree -- reluctantly, but they got into it. We had lunch-hour rehersals for weeks and slowly but surely, these burly football players transformed themselves into sleek and sexy dancers. It was fantastic!

To tell you what kind of guy Art was, I remember having a bad cold during these rehersals and one day after school, he knocked at our door and handed my mother a box of kleenex to help me through my sniffles. What other guy would do this?

The night of the concert arrived and our music started. We got right into our act, with everything going perfectly. Suddenly, Art -- who was my partner -- missed a step and the whole thing started to unravel. I was mortified! We stumbled around and managed to get back into the routine, but I was implacable. I remember coming off stage and almost punching him when he tried to apologize. I am sure no one in the audience even noticed, but I had. That was the end of our little "affair". Art went back to his original girlfriend, Jane, and I moved on. Happily, Art and Jane married and he became a high school teacher in Smith Falls.

I am sure Art made a difference in many students's lives. A football hero who could also dance. What a fabulous combo! Now, there was a guy who didn't worry about gender stereotyping.

Goodbye Art. You were a great guy.

As my Mother used to say.........

....."Well, that's the limit." Parents bringing up a baby without telling anyone its sex -- or gender. (Are they different?) When something became just too bizarre for rational explanation, that was what Lillian would pronounce: Really, that's the limit. And listening to 'The Agenda' this evening, it really was the limit. How can you bring up a baby without dealing with its gender? "Storm" is the baby in question. Four months old, the baby's (hippie) parents have decided to withold declaring its gender to avoid "stereotypes". Yeah, a four-month-old might really be upset about stereotyping. Hey, I'm a boy and I don't appreciate those pink pyjamas! Apparently, the reason for this is because one of their other children -- a boy -- likes pink and has been teased about it. Whatever. The kid may be gay. Or not.

What floored me were the four Ph'ds gathered around the table debating this insanity. I guess this is what ensures their tenure at whatever university -- that they can be absolutely senseless. Bone-headed intellectuality was on display this evening. The usually sane Steve Pakin should be ashamed of himself. One "expert" bragged about being proud his boys could cook. Whaaaat!!???!!!??? Then there was an endless debate about the difference between "sex" and "gender". In the case of whether this four-month-old is a male or a female, sex and gender are synonymous.

The only talking head that made any sense was the practical professor from Brandeis University who wondered what the kid would do in a few years when faced with going to the "boys" or "girls" bathroom at school? Or going to the boys' or girls' department in the local Walmart. Or what side to choose on a girls' or boys' sports team? Are the parents going to ask the toddler to choose a gender? Please.

I was the last person to bring up a "girl". My daughter and step-daughter were treated according to their abilities -- both athletically and academically. Their gender was irrelevant. I remember when my step-daughter tried tears one day I said, "Stop acting like a girl, stop crying." Crying was acceptable if a pet or a parent died, but crying was not the way to get your way. Forget that. That was the first and last time she cried.

I am very proud of my daughters as women. Never hampered by their gender, they are pretty invincible.

The weirdest thing..........

Just before I flew out to Vancouver, I had to wind my cantankerous hall clock. Bought it an auction about 30 years ago and it is very tempermental. Acutally has a personality. Unless it is perfectly level, it will not tick. I had it nailed in our old house, but the (un)handyman we hired to put stuff up had not set it level on the wall -- in spite of my telling him to get his level out and make "bloody sure" the clock shelf and clock were level. "Yes, yes," he said, but it was really "no, no, can't be bothered". So, after he pocketed my money and left, the blessed clock and I frigged around with little bits of paper over an entire weekend to get the "tick tock" exactly right to my ear so I knew it would stay in continuous motion and "tick tock".

But when I wound it the morning I left, it would not "tick tock". It started, but then stopped after about 20 ticks. Wound it again, same thing. Wound it again, same thing. It would not keep ticking. I started imagining all sorts of dreadful things.......the plane was going to crash......I would never set foot in this place again.........the clock knew my number was up.......and on and on. Didn't say a word to B, who was already worried enough about what he would eat when I was away for three weeks. And I wondered if he would even notice the old, hall clock was not ticking our lives away? Walked in this evening from Vancouver and it was still not ticking. Dead silence filled the condo. Believe me, I can't abide the silence when she is not "alive". So, the first thing I did was walk over to her and give the pendulum a little push. She started ticking immediately. But would she continue? Yes, three hours later she is still "tick tocking". Does she know I am home? She must.

How weird is that?!?!