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It Will Too Change A Thing

December 31, 2006 -- On this New Years Eve day we are faced with the deaths of three different men, which is driving the Ponytail Hippies crazy because they don't know which way to run first.  In fact, I am awaiting the first conspiracy geek who will opine that the Government euthanized both President Ford and James Brown to keep the Ponytail Media from focusing on the hanging of Saddam Hussien.

I have no interest in James Brown; he was an entertainer and I didn't care for his brand of entertainment.  But I'm finding it interesting to contrast the deaths of President Gerald R. Ford and Dictator/Tyrant Saddam Hussien.

Gerald Ford was a modest and gentlemanly man who proclaimed himself "A Ford, not a Lincoln" as he found himself thrust into a job he of course knew intellectually he might be called upon to perform but likely never believed it would happen.  Although Hollyweird and the Ponytail Media mocked him as a clumsy, ignorant oaf (not unlike their attitude toward our current President, come to think of it), Chevy Chase has admitted after President Ford's death that his behaviour was a relic of a time when he was 'young, ignorant and liberal' and that in later years he'd become friendly with the President and found him quite a different man.  Except for the reserntful residue who prefer to pound the drum and whine that Ford's pardon of Nixon was the only thing that mattered about him (that evil stupid move according to them), those who speak of Gerald R. Ford speak of him as a modest and gentlemanly man who knew his job -- restore honour and dignity to the office of the Presidency, which he did at least until that oaf from Georgia dragged it down for what proved mercifully to be an intermission) -- and who did it to the best of his God-given talents and abilities.

Then there's the dictator/tyrant Saddam Hussien, who went to his death screaming threats and secure in his delusion that he had not in fact destroyed and ruined the country given to him to admiister, but that Iraq was a glorious beacon to the world ... that all those millions he had murdered, known and unknown to us, were just collateral damage not worthy of a thought, and that regardless of his ignominious end, he was a hero.  Although the Ponytail Media spent the day after his death rushing madly around the world looking for people breathing threats against America and pronouncing hopefully "It won't change a thing", the only anti-American threat-breathers they could locate seemed to be academics from liberal universities...fellow travellers, as it were.  Those people Sadddam claimed he had restored to glory seemed to be dancing and singing and celebrating the end of an ugly and shameful period in their history and to be looking forward to a day when they too will have a President Ford to mourn in dignity and peace.

And those of us with  a classical education remember that "No man is an island" and that each man's death diminishes us in some way.  In the case of Saddam, I believe his death is the lancing of a boil -- it will not cure the disease, but it will make the body more comfortable and cleaner so the ongoing treatment can do its work.  Or as Thomas Jefferson said, "We don't kill a mad dog as an example to society; we kill a mad dog because he threatens society." 

On this New Years Eve we bid farewell to a Mad Dog and a Gentleman.  Both were part of our civilization and our history.  For Gerald Ford I pray a quiet remembrance in the history of the country he did his best to hold together; for Saddam Hussien I pray the fate of Ozymandias, whose broken statue commanded "Look on my works ye mighty and despair!" in the middle of a desert of blowing sand that evidenced a legacy of nothing.

And to those who believe it doesn't mean a thing, I pray that on New Years Eve 2007 they'll understand that after all it did.

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The Christmas Jar

December 28, 2006 -- Another year has passed on and it's time to think of what we can do to make 2007 better than 2006.  My theme today is charity -- caritas -- which is what Bob Cratchitt meant when he said to his wife "My dear, have some charity!" after she made bitter remarks about her husband's employer, Ebenezer Scrooge, and not what is meant by modern organizations who beg us to throw large heaps of money at TheMostVulnerableAmongUs lest they hit us over the head and take it away from us anyway.

One thing I've noticed during the barrage of begging that signals Christmas these days is that practically every organization wants at least $25 and they all want you to buy expensive new electronics and goodies for their particular group of Pitiful Pearls.  Lots of us are living from paycheque to paycheque, supporting elderly parents or slipping a little cash into the pockets of struggling family members, and writing cheques for large sums or buying expensive goodies for TheMostVulnerableAmongUs on top of that is beyond our reach.  So many times people just toss those begging screeds into the trash can and sigh.

There is a way to practice charity without bankrupting yourself.  In our family we had two: the Cussing Jar and the Christmas Jar.  The Cussing Jar, which is adorned with those symbols used in comic strips and by polite people to indicate words for which Mama would have slapped us, is where we deposited the Least Coin we had on us when we said a bad word.  (Okay, if we were feeling especially guity or had said lots of bad words, we dropped in the biggest coin.)  The money in that jar was given to the local Senior Centre on a regular basis and sometimes it amounted to a very nice donation indeed.

The Christmas Jar is a little bit different.  In that jar went all the 'stray money': pennies and nickels and dimes the kids picked up on the street or in the subway station or on the floor of the car; change Mama found behind the sofa cushions when she cleaned; odd pennies that had drifted to the bottom of our purses.  It was fun to watch the level of change rise in that jar all year and to count it and marvel at how much money people literally 'threw away'.  In later years I have taken to adding my odd pennies; for example, buying the paper from the box instead of at the news agent saves me 3 cents a day, so 15 cents a week goes into the Christmas Jar.  When I'm looking for a package of meat at the store, I look for the cheapest one I can find and deposit the few pennies I save.  This year I was able to give almost $12 to the Salvation Army and it didn't cost me a thing.  Next year I anticipate doing better.  Yesterday I found 27 cents at the subway station.  That's a good start for 2007.

P.S. I have also found that my habit of picking up newspapers and trash from the seats around me on the subway train to deposit in the recycling on the way up the steps has yielded coins on occasion.  In fact, once it yielded my grandson a $10 bill.  Besides showing caritas, tidiness and the wish not to live in a pigsty can pay.

So if you are among those living on your income in 2007, think about starting a Christmas Jar and giving that money to charity.  It'll be an adventure and it won't cost you a thing.
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Resolutions

December 27, 2006 -- Resolutions.  What are you thinking about doing next year that will make a difference in your life?  Last year I did two things and both worked out very well.  This year I'm going to do them again.

The first one is that I joined a gym.  I've never been able to make myself work out at all, in the (censored) number of years I have been alive.  I skate for fun, I ride bikes with my grandson, and I walk because I can't drive; but exercise for the sake of fitness has always left me cold.  But as one lives in a climate where doing things outdoors is not attractive (save for the weekly trip to the rink), I decided to join a gym next to my ofice and go for half an hour twice a week.  The physical trainer looked shocked when I asked for a program that would take only half an hour, but I explained to her that exercise was boring, I was in no hurry to get a Bowflex Body at my age, and that it was a good thing to know one's limits.  Each quarter this gym gives us an evalation to see how we do, which is a good time to change the exercise program to focus on another part of the body.  Last quarter it was the legs, and i have strong, firm, flexible legs now that are a credit to a woman my age.  Next quarter it will be the midsection.  8 minutes of treadmill, ten reps on each of four leg machines, ten pull-downs for the back and shoulders, and ten minutes of mat work, and then into my street clothes and home to sit in front of the computer and play pinball or work on my website or watch Mythbusters in the happy knowledge that I've done my exercise for the evening.  And over the quarter it works out just fine.

The other was a variation on The Christmas Jar and is an interesting and enlightening experience for those of us living in cities at least.  On January 1st I started keeping an eye out for the money people drop on the street, in the subway station, and along the halls of the office tower where I work.  I dropped this change into a jar and watched it grow over the year just to see what I got.  Twice I found subway tokens and put in the price of the token in place of the token itself.  At the end of the year I had nearly $11.00 which I donated to the Salvation Army.  This year I'm adding 15 cents a week that I save by buying my newspaper out of the box instead of at the news stand.  That'll be another $8.00 a year.  Think of it -- in two painless exercises I get nearly $20 to donoate to charity just from what other people throw away!

My new Resolution this year is to move into a comfortable apartment.  I am tired of being crowded and without amenities and I'm going to be here for a few more years and I might as well be comfy if I can.  That will mean rearranging the budget, but since I spend a lot of money on model cars and bagels, that money might just as well go into the bank for the apartment.  Yes, it will cost a whole lot more.  Yes, it will be worth it.  And like the other two Resolutions, it's virtually painless and once I'm in it I won't back out.

What are your rseolutions this year?  How did you do last year?  And did you have any fun doing them?  It's my opinion that resolutions that aren't any fun, or at least not inconvenient, are not going to be kept.  So no resolutions about being nicer to people or considering the plight of the Single Mother, or marching against Global Warming.  I'd rather get fresh air and exercise picking up change and enjoying my dishwasher will be worth the snacks I'm not eating from that inviduous machine on the 51st floor.

The new year is nearly here.  What will you do in it to make yourself more comfortable when stared in the fact by 2008?  Think about it and let me know.
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Just for a day

December 22, 2006 -- Tomorrow I will head to Alabama to be with my parents and my Auntie and Uncle, all of whom are frail and pretty much neighbourhood-bound, and my oldest son, and probably a dozen phone calls from sisters who can't be there.  And what I am hoping is that just for a day we can all put down the swords and the electronic gizoms and the attitudes and just enjoy the chance to be people again.

I'd like to encourage everyone to take the pledge.  You can do anything for 24 hours, they say, so let's all try it.  For 24 hours don't say "I hate" anybody.  Don't say George Bush is Hitler or anything else ugly about him.  Don't say Hilary Clinton is Medusa or Medea.  Don't call your ex-husband a rat or your ex-wife a nasty word that could easily apply to your mistress or that woman you wish would be your mistress.  Don't say your boss is a jerk or your secretary is an idiot.  Don't say the bus driver ought to be arrested, the guy blocking the intersection deserves to be t-boned or the woman with the toddler screaming at the foot of the escalator ought to be boiled in oil.

When someone slams the door on you, don't say "Moron!" or "F*** You!"  Don't say anything.  Just open the door and hold it for the person coming behind you.  When someone rams her baby carriage into the crowd in the toy aisle, don't call her a name your Mama would slap you for.  When you come into the copy room and find the machine is out of paper and someone has left it jammed up and the floor is littered with trash, don't cuss.  Fix it.  When you come into the coffee room and the place is awash with dirty dishes, garbage and empty containers, do not speculate on the ancestry of people who would do such a thing.  Clean it up.

Just for one day, remember when Mama said "What if everybody acted the way you act?" and try to act the way everybody ought to act.

Take a minute to say hello to the guy who picks up the mail, and to compliment someone on something.  Hold the elevator for the guy with the trolley.  Wait for the woman with the stroller to clear the aisle, and stand patiently on the escalator which is actually moving, you know.  Offer your seat to someone who needs it.  Turn off your Boom Car.  Turn off your cell phone, your iPod, your Blackberry and your mouth while you eat Christmas dinner with your family.

Just for 24 hours, act as if you are glad you are alive.  Smile, and take joy in living. 

Just for a day.
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The Hallelujah Heard Round the World

 
Toronto (December 14, 2006)
This weekend in Toronto my brother and I will attend a sellout "Sing Along Messiah" with 2700 of our best friends. This is the only Classical Christmas musical event I have ever seen with scalpers out front and eager people lining up to patronize them. This will be the fortieth year I have sung "Messiah", an Oratorio that came to Handel in a thunderclap and was feverishly written down by him in a marathon worthy of the Paris-Dakar Rally Raid. The mere idea that some group of humorless Taliban could threaten this event because any music that does not consist of huffs and grunts interspersed with obscenity and blasphemy to a grinding thumping beat must be destroyed would be enough to set even the people of Toronto, timorous as they are, into the streets. I can imagine those 2700 people standing in the public square, with the fearless choirmaster of Tafelmusik in his Handel costume, defiantly raising a rendition of the "Hallelujah Chorus" that would be heard in Ottawa and Beiruit and Baghdad as a shot heard round the world.

In fact, should the day come when the Taliban try to shut Christians out of the Christmas Season by banning the singing of "Messiah" in public halls, I recommend we gather in every public square in America and, at a fixed time on Christmas Eve, fill America from shore to shore with the defiant good news that "He shall reign forever and ever -- HALLELUJAH!"

That ought to wake up the slumbering virgins whose lamps are almost out of oil, to the realization that indeed their King is at the gates and they'd better get on their feet and prepare to welcome Him home before their lights go out for eternity.

Wouldn't you love to hear that?  I would.  In fact, why not get every radio station and speaker system in the country involved as well?  Can you imagine what that would do to fire up the troops in the Army of the Lord?  I can.

All together now: HALLELUJAH!
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Charity Fatigue

December 12, 2006 -- Yesterday when I got off the subway at the downtown Financial District complex where I work, I was greeted by a row of shouting people jangling collection boxes -- for the NINTH TIME in two weeks.  This time it was people collecting for Crimestoppers, a tip line that offers rewards to people who turn in criminals.  I informed the person to whom I gave my collection that she was the ninth collector in two weeks and she looked startled and said "NINE?" in disbelief.

Yes, ma'am, nine times, almost every day in the past two weeks, we who are heading to our offices for the day have been greeted by shouting, can-rattling people past whom we must walk to get to the work that runs the engine of the world.  One or two are charities I have never heard of before -- a group who wanted to have a Christmas party for homeless people at a particular shelter, for example -- but most were well known to us. 

Yes, standing in the subway station where people from the Financial District head to work will probably be a better opportunity than standing in a mall.  However, when you face it every day you start responding the same way you respond to people begging in the streets; you quicken your step (and sidestep the two beggars holding the door open at the entrance to the complex, too) and quickly leave them behind.

I am a person who believes very much in private charity and I am happy to contribute in kind to those who ask me politely and don't urge me to contact the government for "funding" for their particular cause.  I don't want to face every morning a barrage of yelling beggars.  My sister remarked the other day that it's like the opening scene in "Murder on the Orient Express" where people headed to the train are forced to run a gauntlet of gabbling salesmen and beggars and all of them walk through with the same look on their faces as you'll see at the subway station every morning.

We're going to work, folks.  We're doing our part (and most of us are harrassed and pressed at the office on a regular basis by people from your organizations as well as those who want us to give up a day's pay to fight AIDS in Africa and those who send threatening solicitations through the mail in support of the food bank) and all we want is for you to shut up and go away.

It's not that your cause is unjust (although some of them are) but that there are too darned many of you.

So if you're finding the Financial District a poor prospecting ground, that could be one reason why.

Come back after Christmas and don't shout at us.  Believe me, you'll do much better.
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Have a Scatalogical Christmas?

December 11, 2006 -- On Friday i went to the local Carlton Cards outlet to get Christmas cards that I wrote out this weekend and will mail today.  In searching for something that said "Mother AND Father" not Mother OR Father, Father and His Wife, Mother and Her Husband, or some other indication that Mom and Dad were splitsville, I came across a whole rack of cards that left me in shock and disgust.  Who on Earth decided that we needed scatalogical, filthy, hateful Christmas cards? 

Who would spend actual cash money to buy a card showing Santa landing on the roof of an outhouse and cursing at the reindeer that "I said the SCHMIDT house!"?  Who would want to send a card with a leering photo of a naked Santa on the front and a sexually explicit vulgarism within?  Most of all, who was it who even thought such a card might "appeal" to the unreached marketplace of Perverts?  What can we expect next year -- cards with naked children on them to appeal to your local Child Porn addict?  Flasher cards? 

I realize that there is a very large minority of Ponytail Hippies who discovered their wee-wees in the 1960s and have found it necessary to make sure everybody else sees and hears about them on all occasions since then.  But trust us, kids, we've seen them and as Daddy says, "If you've seen it before, it's no big deal."  Why is it desirable, far less necessary, to vulgarize and, er, poo all over things that are sacred to the majority?  Is this just another way to scream YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME?  Or is it the same impulse that leads the offspring of these Ponytail Hippies to vandalize cemeteries, scrawl swastikas on synagogues and urinate on war memorials -- that impulse to dirty everything that others find holy, just because they have been taught that nothing has any value and that society will not be "equal" until we are all mired in the muck?

Yes, it is equally vulgar to show a mother with her laughing baby who is just barely old enough to sit up, teaching him with "V-Smile Baby" that Mommy is happiest when he sits on his little heinie in front of a screen manipulating a keyboard, or a child alone in his bedroom with only a single lamp shining on the robot teddy bear who is reading him a bedtime story -- while Mom, no doubt, is out with her latest squeeze or working late at the office, Dad has long ago decamped to the Islands with his Trophy Wife secretary, and the Guatamalan Nanny they hired without checking her papers sits in front of the TV trying to learn enough English to get a better job.  But the trend toward filthy, vulgar, crude and poo covered Christmas cards is the ultimate in disgusting, low-class vulgarity and it is my sincere hope that someone will stand up and say ENOUGH.

Someone, I mean, in addition to me.
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Sit down, shut up, hands off

Toronto (December 5, 2006) -- In this Christmas season (and it IS the Christmas season, so there) when people exhibit anything but Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men, it's time to remind everybody what Mama should have taught you: that the world is filled with Other People, and that the machinery of civilization is creaky enough without us deliberately throwing sand into it by forgetting to practice good manners.  Perhaps you were not brought up in a family where Mama greeted every "Yeah whatever" with a stern "Yes, ma'am?" but surely you were taught "yes, please," or "yes, thank you" was a better response than "yeah whatever" -- or even more common these days, "get the f*** out of my way." 

For some reason people intent on crashing through a line on a perpendicular trejectory seem to believe I am a gate and they shove themselves between me and the person ahead of me without so much as acknowledgement.  I have taken to saying "Excuse you" in that loud, firm voice Mama used to remind us we had erred, and about half the time I will get a startled look that indicates the person has suddenly realizes she is not alone on Planet Earth and a muttered, "sorry".  When I have to get through one of these lines I ask, "Pardon me, may I pass in front of you?" and have never had anyone refuse to step back as far as she can.  To the smallish child who elbows me out of the way I reach down and take hold of his coat and say "Watch it!" to wake him up to the fact that I am not a tree or telephone pole.  Most of the time his Mama will snap "He's just a child!" and I will say "But you're not. Did you teach him to slam strangers with his elbows?"  She is exasperated with me, not with her ill mannered son; how dare I have the nerve to tell her GrabbyBaby that he's not the only person on Planet Earth!  But I will always compliment both the young person and his or her Mama when the child shows good manners.  One afternoon on a crowded train I saw a young boy (five or six years old) offer his Mama a seat, and when she declined politely, he turned with a big smile and said "Ma'am, would you like my seat?" to me.  I accepted the seat and said, "Thank you, sir," which broadened the smile, and then I said to his Mama, "You have a real gentleman there."  Mama looked grateful too.  If we take the time to correct bad manners, why not take a moment to reward good ones?

We're all familiar with the people who blabber on their cell phones endlessly and relentlessly regardless of time or place.  My grandson reminds me when we come into a movie theatre or church, "Turn your cell phone off, Gramma."  I always thank him for reminding me and I do so.  My kids grew up well before cell phones in public places, but my younger one would have asked other people to turn their cell phones off as well; the first time I took him to the ballet (an afternoon performance of the Nutcracker, at age 3) he turned around to reprove some Chatty Cathy behind us, "You are not supposed to talk during the ballet."  I could take the boys anywhere because they knew the three basic rules of public behaviour: Sit Down; Shut Up; Hands Off.  I can remember one occasion when the younger boy started to throw a fit on the subway, and the looks I got when I took him by the shoulder and said "All the people on this car are wondering 'who is that brat?'"  but it worked just the way it was meant to work: it reminded him that he was not alone on that subway car and he subsided immediately.

The best of good manners is to behave with the full consciousness that we are not alone on Planet Earth, and to think to ourselves what the world would be like if everybody suddenly understood that pushing, shoving, swearing, grabbing, and above all blabbering are just as ill mannered now as they were in preschool.  If everybody in the world would just sit down, shut up and keep their hands off things that did not belong to them (the true meaning of Thou Shalt Not Covet), the machinery of civilization would work so much more smoothly.
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