TubaOrNotTuba

My sympathies are extended to any employee in retail that lives with a soundtrack. Background music, not of their choosing. My sons are unable to handle some of the local FM radio stations after spending part of their waking hours each day listening, over and over again, to the same insipid choice of songs that seems to beat one’s soul into pablum. And I’ve just returned from grocery shopping, where I ended up singing along to a cover of a Roger Whittaker song.

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And what if she actually touched a teddy bear? Is it now worth more to the buyer? Those are the questions that follow a recent visit to a local toy store by the world famous Celine and her son and spouse. Don’t get me wrong, I think being a fan is a wonderful hobby, but I also understand that fan is derived from fanatic (thank you, my teachers that were etymologists at heart).

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As we waited for someone to clear our parking spot, the realization that our trek of over 6600 km in 26 days had ended set in. Home, where the grass grows green and tall, and the warnings about the danger of dogbite mark her territory. Home, where we now have to unpack the van and repack the house. The savoury odour of home. Too late/lazy to unpack things tonight, I’ll just put the last of the food in the kitchen and then try to convince my back that life on a real mattress is good.

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Three big announcements in the media today. Not equal, but the same; the consumer isn’t ready to play the game in the old ways, and it’s time for business to take notice. Yesterday, we learned that two of the larger players in the Canadian cellphone oligarchy (I know, it’s not le mot juste, but it’s really hot and I’m tired) have decided to charge their clients for incoming text messages. Pretty small apples in the larger salad of life, but still vexing. Paying for spam, disadvantage to young people who pay as they go, etc.

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There once were two sisters. The first, older and wiser and prettier, found herself under the shadow of the second, who was infinitely more worldly and famous. No matter how hard the first sister (let’s call her Quebec) tried, everyone continued to remark on how the second sister (let’s call her Montreal) was superior in all that mattered.

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First of all, let me extend my deepest sympathies to the citizens of Huntsville, Ontario. A lovely community, really; a population of about 18,000. Beautiful countryside, nature in the driver’s seat. Quiet, for the moment. They now have about 24 months to get their barricades in place, because the current government announced today that the G8 summit will be held there in 2010.

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My “specialty channel”, ARTV, just finished an excellent concert by Les Charbonniers De L’enfer from Quebec. Five exceptional voices, in perfect harmony, with a repertoire of traditional folksongs. An ‘acapella’ harmony that resembles Gregorian chant in many ways. There is probably an origin in the sacred music heard in the parish churches during earlier centuries (I am not a musicologist, but I can pretend with the best of them). This is the music from before radio. No instrumentation, just five men that have been involved in the task of protecting a particular culture for the whole of their professional lives.

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Forget the dog, or the monkey. Hollywood and the advertising industry love a larger animal. Much larger, and white, and cuddly if we pay attention to the ideas channelled to us for the last century. And yet, outside of a larger zoo, or extremely bad luck, none will see this animal at close range. Why, then, do we have such a willing suspension of disbelief when it comes to large and very wild predators.

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An ad on TV this evening caught my eye (that’s what it was supposed to do) and then took me down the “What If?” pathway. The advertiser: our national passenger rail corporation. The idea: that I come and ride the train, on an adventure through beautiful scenery, in comfortable, “worry free” seating, just because I can. I’m easily distracted by the idea; after all, I have something like 32 trips on The Ocean under my belt.

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The world shown on the “big screen” is far from real, but sometimes a movie will make you stop, think a little and then sigh in relief that we live in an easier world than many others. Tonight, we sat through The Last King Of Scotland and we came away with troubled spirits. The headlines in a local newspaper don’t provide enough content for us to realize how bad things have been in various times and places.

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