Rod McQueen's Blog, page 55

Any Given Sunday

The other day I saw a sign in the window of a Yonge Street store that read: “Sunday is the new Saturday.” I stopped in my tracks, reread the words several times, and have been pondering them ever since.

On one level, the meaning is clear. On Sunday all shops are now open, leisure choices are endless, and there’s no difference between the two days of the weekend any more. When I was growing up, Sunday was special. I was taken to church wearing a blazer and flannel pants that felt funny against my finger nails clipped on Saturday night after the bath. The minister was a fire-and-brimstone Presbyterian. I tried to avoid nightmares about eternal damnation by carefully counting the sixty-eight tall pipes on the organ during his sulphurous sermons. On those Sundays when communion was celebrated, the elders wore morning coats and striped pants. On Mother’s Day, boys whose mothers were dead wore a white rose in their lapel.

Some Sundays we’d visit my grandparents who lived an hour away. No card games were allowed. The television only came on in time for Ed Sullivan at 8 p.m. My grandfather, who’d suffered a heart attack and wasn’t supposed to watch TV for fear that it would rile him, would stand in the hall and peek around the corner at the screen. Because his body was not in the same room as the TV he believed he was following doctor’s orders and wasn’t doing himself any harm.

My father worked Saturday morning; Sunday was his full day off. He’d sit in the back yard in a lawn chair and read. My mother had a break, too. I was in charge of Sunday lunch. It was always the same – bacon and eggs done in the Sunbeam electric frypan. My mother made dinner but it was just a few sandwiches that took little time.

I miss those simpler days. I wouldn’t want to take the world back to that era, there’d be too much bellyaching, but having a day that was different than Saturday was a fine idea. There was time for family get-togethers. Now we’ve had to designate a special day in February to achieve once a year what used to occur once a week.

Sunday is the new Saturday is a phrase that has the patina of truth, like the fashionistas who say green is the new black. Or boomers who say 60 is the new 50. Or tweets that have neither metre nor meaning. Saying Sunday is the new Saturday is just another way of avoiding what we don’t want to face. Mind-numbing NFL games and the whispering PGA tour commentators prevent us from the real journey of life – discovering our inner selves. The seventh day; what a waste.

If that’s for me, I’m cleaning my ducts

If there’s anything more foolish than the National Do Not Call List, I’d like to hear about it. But not by phone, thank you. Run by the Canadian Radio-television and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC), the list works like this: you register your phone number and thereby reduce the quantity of telemarketing calls you receive. No one I know believes this really works.

First, there are far too many groups permitted to make telemarketing calls. Those with a hall pass include registered charities, political parties and candidates, market research firms, and newspapers seeking subscribers. In the latter group, the Toronto Sun and the Toronto Star are particularly egregious. On average I hear from both of them at least twice a week. The National Post seems to rely instead on flyers like the one recently offering three months at $20 a month with a $50 gift card good for purchases at The Bay. Time was when such a valuable premium would have been offside but I guess such rules no longer exist.

Second, those not permitted to call do so with impunity. The CRTC last October fined a software firm in India $495,000 but such victories are rare. Since launching the list in 2008, the total amount of fines levied is just $2.5 million. The only agency with a worse record in a world full of con artists is the Ontario Securities Commission. If the CRTC had just followed up on the companies I complained about they could have by now eliminated the national debt. But for all my whistle-blowing, my phone keeps ringing. There’s a duct cleaning company that I hear from more than family. I’ve asked them to take my name off the list, I’ve sent them to phony addresses, I’ve played loud music down the line. Those calls keep a-coming.

In the many times I’ve dutifully emailed details of my complaints to the CRTC, I can honestly say that there’s neither been any follow-up nor any diminution in the number of calls. Maybe the CRTC also has a Do Not Listen List. If so, I’m on it.

A good and gallant man

I did an interview today with Catherine Christie-Luff of CPAC who is preparing a five-part series looking at specific periods in Canadian history. The series, which airs this fall, begins in 1917 with conscription and ends in 1988 with the free trade debate. She has spent the last six months doing archival research for film and still photos and is now conducting interviews. Among those she’s done so far are with historians Robert Bothwell and Stephen Clarkson. Among the luminaries who have agreed to be interviewed are author Michael Bliss and Jean Chretien.

My modest participation focussed on Robert Stanfield, my boss from 1970 to 1976, when he was leader of the Progressive Conservative Party. Her first question was “Why is Robert Stanfield remembered ‘as the best prime minister Canada never had.’” I’ve put the descriptive in quotes because it came from Toronto Star columnist Richard Gwyn who too rarely gets credit for the oft-cited phrase. My answer was that Stanfield put his country ahead of himself. When the Liberals lost a no-confidence vote in the House of Commons during the 1968 Liberal leadership race, Stanfield could have demanded that the government resign. But Bank of Canada Governor Louis Rasminsky intervened and told Stanfield the Canadian dollar was in peril. If the government fell, there would be severe international consequences, he said. Rather than choose what was best for him (taking over as prime minister), Stanfield choose what was best for Canada. There was another vote, and this time the Liberals had sufficient MPs on hand.

Another interview topic was divisive tactics by former PC leader, John Diefenbaker, who never embraced Stanfield as his successor. Indeed, Dief did plot against him, I said, but so did Pierre Trudeau. The prime minister brought before the House of Commons a resolution confirming the Official Languages Act. Bilingualism was already the law. Stanfield agreed with the steps Trudeau had taken and had voted in favour of bilingualism. Trudeau was just being conniving; he knew that some members of Stanfield’s caucus would vote against the resolution, thereby embarrassing Stanfield. Indeed, more than a dozen did. But Stanfield pressed on regardless.

Stanfield gave as good as he got in House debates and I told Christie-Luff that every year he bested Trudeau when it came to humour in their speeches at the off-the-record Parliamentary Press Gallery Dinner. Trudeau couldn’t get a laugh even with material written for him by the CBC’s Larry Zolf. He simply had no sense of timing.

As for public policy, Stanfield had a vision of the country as a whole place. He was filled with good ideas that were lifted by the Liberals. Indexing income tax brackets as well as wage and price controls come to mind. He was never angered by such theft, even taking a bow during John Turner’s budget speech when indexing was announced. Nor did he ever hold a grudge. Not even against Doug Ball, the photographer who took the photo of Stanfield dropping the football during the 1974 election campaign. Unlike the Kennedy clan, he neither got mad nor sought to get even.

No, Stanfield never won a federal election. But I always thought it was better to lose with good grace rather than win with guile. I was proud to work for him.

All in

I was standing in line at a corner store recently waiting for the man ahead to buy what I thought were a few lottery tickets. The process seemed to be taking longer than usual so I began paying more attention. Turned out he was playing Poker Lotto, a watch-and-win game that offers instant prizes. His first batch of poker hands brought no winners, so he tried again, and got two free plays. I thought, have I come to the wrong place to buy my Dentyne Ice? After he’d spent more than $50, he walked away a loser.

We all know people who are hooked on gambling. After a friend died, his lost and lonely wife became addicted to the slots. A man I know plays away his pension cheque every month leaving his spouse as the sole breadwinner. If the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation goes through with its plan to privatize operations to companies who really know what they’re doing when it comes to taking money from suckers, I can’t imagine the havoc that will be wreaked on families.

Let me declare my small conflict. I play 6/49. In fifteen years, my biggest win was $68. But even I might go to a casino if the facilities were better. I stopped a few weeks ago at Mohawk Racetrack, thinking the casino near Highway 401 between Toronto and Guelph might have a good restaurant. The best in the house turned out to be a desultory place with decor one step up from linoleum. No one was eating there, despite the fact that it was lunch hour.

Nor has Mohawk done much for the surrounding area, unchanged since the 1980s with a gas station, donut shop and the Mohawk Inn. The Inn’s dining facilities were no better than the casino. There were precisely two others in the room, both sitting at the bar. The food was mediocre. I didn’t check out the accommodation, but shag carpet comes to mind. Casinos in this province don’t draw tourists and they don’t create a nucleus for other facilities nearby.

So when I read the comment by MGM Grand, the hotel and casino company looking to build a facility in Toronto, “We don’t just build stand-alone casinos,” I was intrigued. I’m no great gambler. While at a conference in Las Vegas recently, I spent two nights at the Bally slots and blackjack tables, leaving both times after a few hours when I’d lost my modest $25 stake. I figured that was cheap entertainment for an evening. If we’re going to have casinos in Ontario we should turn the business over to the experts. If we’re all on the road to hell, we might as well have the most fun possible along the way.

I think, Argo I am

As a result of Ken Taylor’s participation in the escape of six Americans from Iran in 1979 he is Canada’s most famous ambassador. How many other emissaries can you name from that decade or any other? Taylor and his wife Patricia have been the toast of the United States for years. They live in New York City and he has received numerous honours including the key to that city, the California Medal of Merit and the U.S. Congressional Gold Medal.

His exploits have been celebrated in song and story. The Canadian Caper, a 1981 book written by Jean Pelletier and Claude Adams, vividly described his involvement in the escape. In the movie of the same name Taylor was played by none other than Gordon Pinsent. After Taylor left the foreign service in 1984, his roles in the private sector were far beyond anything enjoyed by most former ambassadors. Taylor was a senior vice-president at Nabisco, a corporate director, and the Chancellor of Victoria University at the University of Toronto.

His recent life has turned into a series of complaints about Ben Affleck’s movie, Argo. Taylor’s first round of whinging a few weeks ago resulted in changes to the wording at the end of the film. So I was surprised when I saw Argo and concluded that the Taylor couple and their involvement in the depiction of the 1979 event was well drawn. Just before tonight’s Oscars, Taylor is protesting again. If Argo wins the Oscar for Best Picture, says Taylor, he wants Affleck to mention Canada’s role in his acceptance speech.

Maybe he will. But Ken, it’s just a movie. Many of the scenes in Argo were manufactured holus-bolus in Hollywood. Not everything shown on the screen actually happened, such as the hilarious scenes between Messrs Goodman and Arkin or the final chase along the runway. But you told the New York Times, “I don’t want to be hard on [CIA agent] Tony Mendez. I want to give him all the credit I can. But at the same time I’m a Canadian and enough is enough.”

I couldn’t agree more. Enough is enough. Ken, haven’t you lived long enough and well enough off the lore of your efforts in Iran more than thirty years ago?

Fashioning a cabinet

OK, first let’s get the embarrassing part out of the way. My candidate for leader of the Ontario Liberal Party, Sandra Pupatello, as named in my fearless New Year’s predictions, did not win. Kathleen Wynne did and, in the early going, I am impressed with her performance. A bus bringing thirty delegates committed to Charles Sousa at the leadership convention was delayed. She told thirty of her own supporters to strip off their badges and go sit in the Sousa section so it wouldn’t look empty and cause him embarrassment. To be sure, Sousa supported her on the second ballot and helped secure her victory, but that was a classy act by candidate Wynne.

I like what appears to be Premier Wynne’s consensual style. She has already reached out to Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, farmers, and teachers. I also like the appointment of Glen Murray as Minister of Transportation and Infrastructure, Liz Sandals in Education, Deb Matthews as Deputy Premier, and Sousa – a former small businessman and Royal banker – as Finance Minister. Whether Tim Hudak can beat this bunch, as I also predicted, remains to be seen, but the Liberals are off to a good start although even more numerically challenged in the Legislature than with the previous slim-pickings margin.

During her first press conference yesterday Premier Wynne talked about a “fair society” and we can all salute that. The phrase was reminiscent of Pierre Trudeau’s “just society” that led to the crowning glory of the Charter and patriating the Constitution. History will decide if Premier Wynne can achieve anything as significant.

Meanwhile, there are some who are out of step with the times. Despite the fact that 87 per cent of Canadians live in a province or territory headed by a woman, KISS radio morning man Maurie Sherman asked at yesterday’s news conference, “All we see you in is pantsuits. How will you ‘win’ us over in the fashion department?” I can only hope the questions become more pertinent and less gender-based. Otherwise, we’re doomed to a silly season where paltry trumps policy.

A booster and his reward

The Mike Duffy I met in Ottawa forty years ago was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. And you knew he was from Prince Edward Island. As a press secretary on Parliament Hill, I dealt with scores of journalists in the Parliamentary Press Gallery. Mike, then a radio reporter, was the only one among them who talked incessantly about where he was from. I knew everything about the the Garden Province right down to the name of the main taxi firm in Charlottetown – Ed’s.

These days, he wears his pride of birthplace like a shield. In a statement released on Friday, Mike said, “I represent taxpayers with care, and Canadians know I would never do anything to betray the public trust. I have a home in Prince Edward Island as required by law.” It was a statement made with care. A Senate investigation will determine whether that home is his primary residence. If his primary residence turns out to be Ontario, then the $$30,000 he has received since September 2010 for his Ottawa “secondary residence” will have been inappropriately claimed.

According to today’s Globe and Mail Mike kept his Ontario Health card (one of the markers of residency along with a driver’s licence and income tax filings) so he could continue his follow-on treatment with the same doctors after heart surgery in 2006. Anyone would have similar concerns, and if Mike had left it at that, there might have been no brouhaha. The extra money puts a different light on the situation. And all over such a piddly amount, too, given that Senators earn about $130,000 a year, plus office staff and travel expenses.

Mike has done himself no good this week. As he fled through a hotel kitchen in an attempt to avoid journalists wanting comments, he said to one of them, “You should be doing adult work.” Like the Senate, I guess. There’s another kind of pride, called hubris, the kind of pride that goes before a fall. If Mike is going through such a process, I feel badly for him. If his Senate appointment ends up to be tarnished, PEI’s biggest booster will have suffered more than he deserved. And the Senate along with him.

Countdown to tomorrow

Finance Minister Jim Flaherty is worried about balancing the federal budget by 2015, and rightly so, that’s his job. But whose job is it to focus on fixing the economy for the future? Who has a vision of the country as a whole place, one where the economy is not so focused on natural resources as our only saviour? No one, as far as I can see. No politician, no business leader, no economist.

Here’s the thing. Canada’s problem at the moment is that much of our oil production is of the wrong variety. Our oil is heavy, requires more refining to turn into useful products, and therefore commands a lower price. That lower price results in lower revenues for governments, which means program cuts, and increased debt.

The answer, of course, is to reduce our reliance on natural resources. That message was first delivered in 1985 by the Macdonald Royal Commission. In its brief to the Commission, the Mining Association of Canada warned that new mines under development in Canada contained lower grades of ore than those of competitors in South America and the developing world. The mining industry responded by buying properties abroad and exploring around the globe. The rest of us just sat back and watched.

We’ve watched as manufacturing fell from 20 per cent of the economy to almost 10 per cent taking hundreds of thousands of jobs along with it. We’ve watched while foreign firms bought up entire sectors – steel, nickel, beer, and others – by making commitments they did not keep. We’ve watched as financial services consolidated in Canada and spread to the United States, exporting more jobs. We’ve watched as innovation and productivity gains fell behind our competitors.

No less than a cultural revolution is required. Graduates from universities and community colleges need to start their own businesses; student loan forgiveness could drive that change. Seasonal workers need to rely less on employment insurance and move to where the jobs are; five years of of government largesse should be the maximum for any individual. Innovative technology companies need help finding funding; investment vehicles such as flow-through shares could easily be used in sectors other than resources. And let’s stop giving away public money for job creation that is difficult to confirm; tax incentives for productivity gains would be easier to measure.

The ripple effect of these and other long-term concepts would have positive consequences for every Canadian. If all we’re going to do is balance the books, this country will turn into a Dickensian counting house, out of date and out of business.

A penny for my thoughts

Shed a tear for the penny. Today is the beginning of the end as the penny gets taken out of circulation. This event was even celebrated by Google with the Canadian penny replacing the first “o” in the word Google on the search engine’s home page.

Despite the nuisance value in recent years of battling to find a couple of pennies in your pocket to make exact change for a cash transaction, I will miss the penny. Think of all the sayings that are now minus that metal marker. A penny saved is a penny earned. In for a penny, in for a pound. The penny dropped. Time was when the penny bought you something. When my two offspring were young, I’d take them every Saturday morning to the public library and then to a corner store run by a curmudgeon named Louie who would become increasingly impatient as they studiously chose among his wide selection of candy all priced at three pieces for a penny. For ten pennies you could fill a good-sized paper bag with mints, liquorice and gumballs.

Confusion will reign for a while in the new penny-less regime as retailers and shoppers battle over rounding down and rounding up, but we’ll eventually come to some understanding. We might even get used to it. After all, there once was a fifty-cent piece and a silver dollar that would show up on birthdays and bonfire nights.

There may even be a silver lining in losing the copper. I’m one of those superstitious souls who sees a penny lying on the sidewalk, picks it up, and puts it in my left shoe. At a young age, I learned the rhyme,”Find a penny, pick it up/All day long you’ll have good luck./See a penny, leave it there,/All day long, you’ll have despair.” My fervent hope is that people will continue to toss aside their “worthless” pennies so that I can still find them regularly. Otherwise, where’s my good luck going to come from?

No more motion

The new BlackBerry Z10 arrived today and it didn’t blow anyone’s socks off. Walt Mossberg, by far the best technology writer, says in The Wall Street Journal, “Overall, it worked fine in my tests, but I found it was a work in progress. It has a chance of getting RIM back in the game, if the company can attract a lot more apps.” That’s always been an issue. Despite beating the developer bushes for the last six months, the new model has only 70,000 apps, about one-tenth as many as either Apple or Android.

The stock market reaction was equally chilly. Anticipation had pushed share price up in the last three months from $8 to $18 just last week. At the end of trading today, it was below $14. For its part, the company has joined the witness protection program. The corporate name, Research In Motion, devised by co-founder Mike Lazaridis in 1984, is no more. The new name is BlackBerry. I hope they didn’t pay brand consultants too much for that bit of legerdemain. We’ll know if the past is being totally expunged if Jim Balsillie changes his name to Jiminy Cricket.

Nor was there much interest at my local Rogers outlet. From 2:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. only three people wandered in to inquire about the new model. I was the third. Watch for line-ups (or otherwise) on February 5, when the Z10 touchscreen version is available in Canada. In the U.S., where BlackBerry’s share of the smartphone market has fallen during the last five years from 50 per cent to single digits, availability begins in mid-March.

I sincerely hope the new company and the new models do well. I’m nursing my 8700 – that’s at least seven years old – and hope it can last until the QWERTY version, called Q10 is out in April. I may be loyal but a few such hangers-on won’t be enough. This latest model doesn’t look like a game-changer and that’s what was needed with this bet-the-company move.