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28
Feb
2018
We had a week of bitter winter weather recently. I didn’t want to go outside. So I looked out through our double-glazed windows at the winter wonderland outside.
The most visible item was our bird feeder. Swarmed by various kinds of finches, sparrows, chickadees, and juncos.
We’ve had that feeder a long time. The congregation Joan and I belonged to in Toronto gave it to us when we moved west, in 1993. Since then, I’ve replaced its roof, replaced the clear plastic panels that contain the bird seed, replaced the mounting, and replaced the feeding tray the birds perch on.
Hardly anything remains of the original feeder.
But it’s still the same old feeder.
It reminds of an axe that had had three new handles and two new heads, but it was still the same good old axe.
As its owner said, “If it was good enough for Granddad, it’s good enough for me.”
Categories: Soft Edges
Tags:
25
This will not be a popular column. (My wife, for one, dislikes it.) The Winter Olympics in South Korea end tomorrow. The Games have gotten too big. Too expensive for most cities to host. And too subjective. The Games -- Winter or Summer -- need to get back to their motto: Citius, Altius, Fortius, which is Latin for faster, higher, stronger.
That means events should be limited to competitions that can be measured with a tape, a scale, or a stopwatch. Or by the number of rocks in a house or pucks in a goal.
Don’t leap to conclusions -- I’m not arguing against adding new events. The original Olympic Games were limited to what we now call track and field events. Then they added swimming. Rowing. Cycling. Team sports.
And eventually, curling -- the only sport played in slow motion.
But notice -- every one of those are won by a measurable finish. I argue that anything requiring judging for style and presentation shouldn’t be included in the Olympics.
Categories: Sharp Edges
Tags: Olympic Games, curling, snowboarding, ice dance, figure skating, judges
21
On a recent snowbird holiday to warmer climes, Joan and I attended an evening event where the MC invited men from several nations up onto the stage. Spoofing the macho male of Mexican myth, he asked each of them, “Who runs your household?”
Joan and I, in the audience, turned to each other and said simultaneously, “The Cat!”
We have both a dog and a cat.
Our dog is a 12-year-old Chesapeake Bay Retriever. She embodies the virtues that “liberal” churches think of as godly -- unconditional love, loyalty, forgiving to the nth degree…
Conversely, The Cat (capitalization deliberate) embodies what I associate with the more conservative theology familiar from the David C. Cook Sunday School curricula of my youth -- a sense of being almighty, judgemental, distant, and unquestionably in control.
Tags: dogs, cats, Egypt, macho
18
Somehow, political correctness has morphed into political incorrectness. It has become wrong to be right.
Consider Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. During an open house gathering in Edmonton, early in February, he suggested that a woman refer to “peoplekind” rather than “mankind” -- “because it’s more inclusive,” Trudeau explained.
It was a good-natured exchange. The speaker laughed and agreed. The audience applauded.
But commentators on three continents ridiculed Trudeau for wanting to use “politically correct” language. Among them, of course, was Donald Trump’s favourite network, Fox News.
Don’t we get it yet? “Politically correct” language is not a fad. It’s the way we learn and change. The ideas, the concepts -- and yes, the prejudices -- lodged in our brains do not, will not, change until we learn to use different words to express them.
Tags: politically correct, Justin Trudeau, Julie Payette, science, Governor General
14
But why do we limit love to one day a year? Why not every day?
Granted, handing out Valentine’s cards in the workplace might seem a little Harvey Weinstein-ish. Especially if accompanied by a leer.
It occurs to me that I have rarely felt more loving than when I’m recovering from surgery. It’s probably the morphine. I fall in love with everyone who’s looking after me.
Don’t worry – I’m not suggesting sending little doses of morphine, or any other narcotic for that matter, to everyone on my Valentine list.
But I am thinking that there must be better ways to show love. After all, why should a tree have to give up its life so that millions of children can glue little pink hearts onto sheets of paper?
Tags: Valentine, chivalry, hearts, flowers, chocolates