Marketing Options® » A Post by Steve Carlson

Thank You, Mrs. Clinton

Steve Carlson — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 01:00:24 +0000

Hillary Clinton’s position on the Falklands this week provides Canada with an opportunity to right an old wrong imposed by the United States just over a century ago. The American Secretary of State encouraged Argentina and Britain to sit down and talk about their claims and the future of these tiny islands, much to the chagrin of the Brits whose position has been no-way unless the islands’ inhabitants agree to such negotiations. Since Clinton is so gung-ho on talking, Prime Minister Stephen Harper should insist that the Americans look to their own backyard and re-open the issue over the Alaskan panhandle. Canadians who know their history appreciate that blatant travesty of justice this old border dispute represents.

Let me refresh your memory. Around the time of the Yukon Gold Rush, the exact location of the Alaskan border with Canada was fuzzy. As men and equipment poured across the panhandle on their way to the Klondike, it became an issue. Finally in 1903 Britain and the U.S. came to an agreement on how to settle the precise location of the boundary — three judges representing Canada and three representing the U.S. would be appointed by their corresponding countries to settle the dispute once and for all.

Theodore Roosevelt, the cowboy president, was busy overseeing the expansion of U.S. imperialism (Guam, Hawaii, Puerto Rico and the Philippines) with the support of his big stick. Not surprisingly, he took the sensitive stance that Canada’s position, “is an outrage, pure and simple. They have no more right to the land in question than they have to Maine.” In that spirit of impartiality, the U.S. appointed three politicians who had no doubts as to whose cause was just. In fact one of them, Elihu Root, was the Secretary of War. Root’s appointment was entirely appropriate considering that Roosevelt had secretly informed Britain that if the resolution didn’t go his way, he would “ask Congress for permission to run the line (border) as we claim it,…without regard for the attitude of England and Canada.”

The Canadian contingent included a Toronto lawyer and Sir Louis Jetté, the Lieutenant-Govenor of Quebec, both of whom fought hard for Canada’s position. The fly in the ointment was the third member, Lord Alverstone, Lord Chief Justice of England, who was there because Canada, as a colony, still did not have control over its own foreign policy. Alverstone voted with the Americans and Roosevelt got the border demarcation that he wanted. Canadians were outraged, one prominent citizen, Sir Charles Tupper, summing it up succinctly with, “The whole course of British negotiations with the United States is marked with a line of gravestones under which Canadian rights are buried.”

Considering all this, Canadians should be most appreciative of Mrs. Clinton’s generous new position espousing the merits of “friendly mediation”. I feel certain that a fair and final negotiation would split the Alaskan panhandle in two equal portions, giving the southern half to Canada. And as restitution for this past wrong and to put Sir Charles Tupper finally at rest, the U.S. might just as well throw in Maine, too.

Blood from Stone

Steve Carlson — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 03:14:56 +0000

David Murdoch will be out for blood as the Scots meet Canada’s champion Kevin Martin this Saturday. If you think Murdoch represents Great Britain, you’re sadly mistaken. Every Canadian curler knows Murdoch and his team of Byers, Smith and MacDonald as simply The Scottish Team. Those same Canadian curlers also know that the game of curling is an ancient plot against the New World, hatched by the devious Scots centuries ago.

The terrible feud that has grown between our countries dates back to the very beginning of curling near Paisley Abbey in Scotland. Curling would not have been born then except that times were difficult. Local stonemasons were particularly suffering. In fact, building new stone cottages was at such an all-time low that the stonemasons decided to heave their building rocks into the White Cart Water, a tributary of the River Clyde, as a gesture of protest. Not an easy task. Just carrying these granite stones to the water’s edge was a challenge because the banks of shore were so steep. Several enterprising masons solved the problem by attaching temporary wooden handles to each rock the night before the protest.

Dawn broke the next day to reveal local residents, including the Abbot and most of the monks, gathered along the water’s edge to view the coming spectacle. Shortly thereafter, the husky Scottish stonemasons arrived, all carrying a rock in each hand by the wooden handles. But the wintery night had been bitterly cold and ice had formed for almost 150 feet out into the water. Transporting the rocks out over the ice to open water was impossible. Each rock weighed over 40 pounds. The stonemasons would break through and drown. Ever enterprising, the masons decided that with a stout push they could slide the rocks from the shoreline across the ice and into the water.

The first mason propelled a rock across the ice but it failed to reach the open water. What to do now? The masons decided that on the next throw the burliest of them would give a mighty heave and throw a second rock with such force that it would strike the first and both rocks would slide into the water. But, as the burliest threw his rock, his foot slipped and his rock spun out of control across the ice. The crowd groaned, clearly the direction of the second rock was such that it would never come close to hitting the first.

But then a strange thing happened. As the second rock spun across the ice, its path began to turn in the direction of the first rock until it made hard contact and both rocks were driven into the water. The crowd cheered heartily, feeling no doubt that the Abbot’s silent blessing had turned the second rock to its target. A local farmer stepped forward with a shovel and “hacked” depressions in the frozen shoreline so the next masons could brace their toes for the next throws. The crowd even clapped in appreciation as a brave maiden ventured a dozen feet out on the treacherous ice, sweeping the frost from the path of the next rocks with her broom.

As the protest continued that morning, one spectator is recorded as saying that as he watched the clergy “a smile of divine inspiration slowly crept across the face of the Abbot”. (Of course, he said it in Gaelic.) When the last rock was thrown, the Abbot gathered the stonemasons together and told them of his plot to put every Scottish mason back to work, a fearsome conspiracy that was to addict many Canadians.

“No longer,” the Abott said (in more Gaelic), “shall ye and ye sons shape the granite for only home and hearth and endure poverty. As we have watched yon rocks curl across the ice this morn, we have been witness to a new feat of strength and skill for all men. But for now those truly marked to practice this new challenge live across the sea in a new country where the ice never disappears. A prosperous countryside, riche in furs. A country where, with mine blessings, the growing population might just be of such mental aptitude that we can convince them to purchase the one thing faire Scotland has in endless supply… granite rocks.”

And so the Abbot first implemented his devious plan across what is now called the Maritimes, Quebec and Ontario. The long days and nights of winter rang with the shouts and laughter of our forefathers. Soon women felt the addiction and eventually even our vulnerable children. But no part of Canada suffered more from the Abbot’s wily machinations than the West. Farmers who slaved hard in the prairie heat during the summer months had endless time during the other three seasons to participate in what by then was called curling. Families living on those lonely western farms in Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta were torn asunder unless all participated but in that crucible were born some of Canada’s greatest curlers. Wheat joined fur in the holds of ships returning to Scotland. What did Canadians have to show for it? A bigger pile of rocks with handles.

How shrewd were those pecuniary Scots but the Abbot’s ancient plot was to backfire. Canadians like Russ Howard, the father of the Free Guard Zone, have snatched the modern game away from its country of birth. Scotland may squeal but accept this new reality of ownership they must — just like Canadians have had to accept the loss of the modern game of basketball to our southern neighbour. (Give it a few years and some more Yankee revisionist history and the U.S. will have always owned it.)

Scotland vs. Canada will be the most exciting match of the 2010 Olympiad. Kevin Martin, The Old Bear from Alberta, is not named after the rather benign eastern Canadian black bear but the western grizzly (Ursus arctos horribilis). On their best days, Hebert, Kennedy and Morris are more than capable of neutralizing their counterparts. But it will be a clash of curling champions at all positions. Amateur genealogists have traced the lineage of Byers, Smith and MacDonald back to William Wallace, Rob Roy and Robert the Bruce.

As for David Murdoch? One aspiring historian has suggested that he is a direct descendent of a great Scottish king made famous by William Shakespeare… Macbeth himself. Readers can be forgiven for thinking that Macbeth is a fictional character. In fact, he ruled Scotland from 1040 to 1057. Macbeth did kill Duncan whose son, Malcolm, eventually defeated Macbeth in battle at Dunsinane and replaced him as king — much as the Bard’s witches predicted. The same historian has also suggested that one of the convolutions of the name Malcolm over the last millennium is Martin.

If too much of this writing seems speculative, one truth remains certain. Come Saturday night at the Vancouver Olympic Centre, blood will flow.

Harper Kicks Some Obama…, But

Steve Carlson — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 23:04:32 +0000

This post is not by a Canadian who dislikes Americans. Nothing could be further from the truth. I like Americans. Most of the ones I’ve met are smart and friendly. I just dislike most American politicians. That’s only a misdemeanor compared to how I feel about Canadian politicians. Visiting Ottawa is a pleasure for me. I love the galleries, the museums and the strolls along the locks. But I have never ever entered my country’s parliament buildings. Suffice to say that I suffer from high blood pressure and I just know if I pass through those portals, my heart will explode in my chest. I know this attitude towards my government is immature, but when you’ve been diddled by them for 66 years of your life, it’s tough to be magnanimous. For the other three years, I lived in the U.S. and didn’t pay taxes — and pre-schoolers don’t get too caught up in politics.

Canada doesn’t have a popular right wing party. Our New Democratic and Liberal parties are left wing. Our Conservative party straddles a middle-of-the-road position. That’s why I was somewhat astonished to learn that The Heritage Foundation seems to be saying that the U.S. is sliding further down the slope to a government-controlled welfare state.

The Heritage Foundation describes itself as America’s “most broadly supported public policy research institute, with more than 580,000 individual, foundation and corporate donors.” It has just published the 2010 Index of Economic Freedom which measured just how free the economies of nations are around the world. Canada scored an overall 80.4, placing 7th highest (freest) in the world. Scores are out of 100 and represent an average calculated from ten components which are also scored out of 100. What’s amazing is that the United States stood in 8th place with an overall score of 78. (An overall score of 80 is required to be designated a free economy — at 78, the U.S. is categorized as partially free.)

Here are the ten components and the scores for Canada and the United States. Best scores (if you believe in a free economy) are in italics:

Business Freedom — Canada 96.5, United States 91.3
Trade Freedom — Canada 88.1, United States 86.9
Fiscal Freedom — Canada 76.7, United States 67.5
Government Spending — Canada 54.1, United States 58.0
Monetary Freedom — Canada 75.4, United States 78.1
Investment Freedom — Canada 75.0, United States 75.0
Financial Freedom — Canada 80.0, United States 70.0
Property Rights — Canada 90.0, United States 85.0
Freedom from Corruption — Canada 87.0, United States 73.0
Labour Freedom — Canada 81.5, United States 94.8

One might conclude that Harper is doing a better job than Obama. Maybe but, and it’s a big but, before we get too carried away let’s give the U.S president a chance. Tonight is his State of the Union address. For a 100 years, the United States has stood out as the torch bearer of free enterprise. Tonight the world will be waiting to hear his words and the direction he plans to take America over the rest of his term. If he falters, Canadians had better be ready to catch that torch. It may not be an Olympic gold, silver or bronze but when you’re 7th place in the greater game of opportunity and freedom for you and your children, it’s the biggest tournament of all.

Could Snus Have Saved Avatar?

Steve Carlson — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 15:16:40 +0000

I wouldn’t write this post if they still had a pillory in the town square. I could stand the public humiliation, but being exposed to the Canadian weather in January or whipped on my bare backside with a birch switch is just too much. You see, I have an issue with Sigourney Weaver’s characterization in Avatar. I think James Cameron has made a serious mistake in trying to personify her as “off-putting and even unpleasant”, as well as “obnoxious”, by having her smoke cigarettes. The press jacked up this trait to “evil”. My generation grew up on movies where smoking was ubiquitous. So for many of us, using this habit for characterization only moves Cameron’s efforts from the sublime to the ridiculous. And that is objectionable because of my admiration for Sigourney. Whenever I see her on screen, whatever her role, deep in my heart she will always have a touch of the quick-witted heroism of Ripley — just like Gable will always have elements of Rhett Butler and Cooper of Marshal Will Kane.

Could Cameron have used moderation and avoided the salivous misrepresentations of the press and busybodies? I think so. The trick would have been to have Sigourney’s character, Dr. Grace Augustine, use snus instead of cigarettes. I’m not talking about that vile chewing tobacco of my youth that demonstrated the prowess of real men who could fill a spittoon from 20 feet (6.096 meters). I’m talking about a more modern development that packages tobacco in little tea-like bags that are inserted between tooth and gum. No chewing, no sucking and no spitting. Snus has about 1/50th the health risk of cigarettes says one American study.

With snus, Sigourney’s character would have only been “obnoxious” as the director intended and Avatar would have offered new hope for Canadian smokers. No longer would they have to stand shivering outside their place of employment in the dead of winter to satisfy their cravings. They would have been inspired to luxuriate in their sinful way, warmly cocooned in the comforts of their own offices. But they would know their fault and Cameron could have been assured that, deep in their hearts, all Canadian smokers would have branded Dr. Grace as “obnoxious”.

Avatar is set on a world were the natives live in harmony with nature. Snus communes with the forests. It lovingly reaches out to each tender twig, offering succour and assurance that no burning cigarette will transform their gentle world into a raging inferno. By preventing forest fires, snus is environmentally-friendly. Snus may have its faults but they are limited. Could Cameron have ramped up his character development of Sigourney to unadulterated evil? Yes, but a new tack would have been required. Instead of having Sigourney toying with nicotine, he could have had her chew gum. Not just chomping gum, but cracking her gum, too. And if he had wanted to go all the way, she could have blown a few bubbles.

Keep Your Enemies Closer

Steve Carlson — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 03:53:00 +0000

Last week I visited the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa. I took a few pictures in the World War 1 section and then put the camera away in frustration. On the way over, I had made the mistake of driving by that mausoleum on Parliament Hill. My ability to focus on gas attacks and trench warfare was gone: by the time I reached the museum, all I could think about was the war in Afghanistan.

The treatment of detainees captured by Canadian forces and transferred to the Afghan government has our opposition politicians all aflutter. So the charges go, the Afghan government subsequently tortured some of those detainees. The oppositions’ finger pointing is a bit confounding considering that many of these politicians are members of the party responsible for drafting the agreement that established these transfers in the first place.

Now I hear our troops’ morale is suffering because they feel they are being vilified back home for passing on the detainees. I’ve listened to the Canadian generals and the investigating committee on TV and here’s my understanding of the situation. First, Canadian troops themselves didn’t participate in any alleged torturing. Second, it’s not the job of a Canadian soldier to investigate and pass judgement as to whether or not the Geneva Convention is being violated. Third, monitoring of detainee treatment by the Afghan government is supposed to be the responsibility of civilian organizations. Our troops have nothing to be sorry for except perhaps for the lack of support they received over this issue from the conservative government.

Combat troops have to be able to quickly pass on detainees in a war zone. Their job is on the battlefield. Guarding prisoners for any longer than is absolutely necessary is a significant burden and a dangerous distraction. Our politicians are now going to endlessly drag the issue of torture through the House of Commons in one form or another. Committees will write reports, make recommendations, castigate a few, exonerate others. One way or another, in the end the Afghan government is going to continue to receive detainees captured by our troops. And one way or another, this issue of mistreatment and torture will linger on.

Aside from packing up our troops and bringing them home, there is a solution to the problem — ship the detainees captured by Canadian troops back to Canada for processing and internment here. This action may take some political backbone with our NATO allies and the Afghan government, but surely we have a few politicians around with the spinal fortitude to handle the job. I think this solution would be a big boost to the morale of our troops in Afghanistan. It would also let the troops know that the folks back home were willing to do their part to help out.

Once on Canadian soil, politicians have direct access to the treatment of the detainees. Members of the press, monitoring organizations, and citizens concerned about the proper treatment of the detainees can be more assured that the information they receive is unstaged and honest. Since these detainees are not in uniform, there would be ample opportunity to sort out any lingering issues as to individual innocence or guilt. And our government can move on to address other issues of greater concern to most Canadians.

Canada is experienced running camps for prisoners of war. Thousands of German POWs were interned in Canada in World War II. Is there a difference between a prisoner of war and detainee? Should detainee be given preferential treatment? My understanding is that Canadian troops only detain those who have harmed or intended to harm them so I can’t see one.

There are issues that need to be considered. Saving the most challenging for last, one concern might be where are we going to locate these Detainee Camps? Obviously, not in downtown Toronto. Canada has endless, under-populated areas, which are relatively accessible to civilization, that could be used.

Who would guard the Detainee Camps? Civilian correctional services could handle the detainees inside the camps while the army could provide the outside security from parties trying to forcibly enter the camps. (No direct contact to the detainees should keep the government off the military’s back.) Bear in mind, the number of detainees will never begin to approach the thousands of German POWs who poured into Canada.

What about fanaticism among the detainees? What about it? The German POW camps had fanatical, hard-core, Nazi followers who endeavoured to impose their control within the Canadian camps. They set up secret kangaroo courts that were known to have POWs beaten or even sentenced to death by their own hand. Our system handled it.

Which leads us to the testy issue of the detainees being repatriated after the hostilities are over. (This has to be done under the Geneva Convention.) Since hostilities are over, the current government which is now being accused of torture (or its successor) would have less reason to mistreat the returning detainees. If the Taliban form part of the government at the time of repatriation, they will provide for the detainees’ safety.

The most challenging issue of all that must be addressed before setting up Detainee Camps is why do this if Canada is pulling out its troops in 2011. That’s easy — because, regardless of what our politicians say now, we will have troops in this theatre of conflict after that date.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

Steve Carlson — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 10:53:56 +0000

Riders on this float illustrate that Christmas is for all ages as they pass by the delighted crowds at the 2009 Campbellford Santa Claus Parade in Ontario, Canada.

Women and Children First

Steve Carlson — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 14:57:24 +0000

The second wave of the H1N1 flu was washing across the country before the vaccine arrived this fall. Government told us that only designated high-risk groups would receive the first shots, the rest of the population would have to wait their turn. I didn’t dwell much on this preferential treatment until a friend, who is a medical doctor, surprised me one day with his comment about this government directive. He told me that the process was “unfair” and that everybody should have had equal access to the vaccine when it was first released.

Yesterday I did what I often do during a long drive — let my mind wander over subjects that seriously bother me. Driving is boring and somewhat depressing, so I wasn’t long in reaching one of my more galling issues: how our provincial leaders have pushed the Ontario economy from have to have-not status. Thinking for me can be quite visual so the images invoked were of a sinking ship. A full Titanic scenario. The massive ice berg of a changing world economy, the breached hull of tight money and more taxes, the great ship floundering under the weight of businesses too big to fail. All right, so my visions can be a shade melodramatic, but the sinking of the Titanic on its maiden voyage exemplified the nautical arrogance of the builders who, just like our politicians, were certain their design could handle any emergency.

On that icy night in 1912, the bravery of many of the passengers and crew to save the women and children first was an amazing act of personal courage. The ship’s owners had placed those courageous souls in an impossibly “unfair” position by not providing enough lifeboats. And that was when my thoughts segued to the “unfair” reference made earlier by my medical friend. What he was referring to by “unfair” was not just the preference given to one group over another, but the ineptitude of the politicians who had made queuing necessary. If government’s emergency planning had been successful, there would have been enough lifeboats and everyone would have had equal access to inoculation.

Our governments have a monopoly on our healthcare system so they are accountable. Only lately have some family doctors even been provided with the vaccine for their patients in Toronto. Now inoculation clinics are reducing their hours and starting to close. Many people have still not been vaccinated against this pandemic which for some is proving to be a life or death issue. And here’s the frightening truth — I have been told that a third wave of the H1N1 flu is coming in the New Year. If for just one minute queuing is re-instated, the government be damned.

Mighty Miniatures of Quinte

Steve Carlson — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 02:35:42 +0000

Did you know that until World War II, the only land links spanning Canada from coast to coast were railway tracks? It’s true, the war stimulated the Canadian government to build roads between small towns north of Lake Superior (where I was raised) so motor vehicle traffic could eventually cross the country, too. There were good reasons. Three sets of track stretched over this area. If German saboteurs ever blew up three bridges simultaneously, our country’s only method of land transportation would have been severed, at least temporarily.

Materials, including food, from the west would have had great difficulty reaching the denser populations of southern Ontario and Quebec and eventually crossing the north Atlantic to England and our Allies. Aside from being less efficient, rerouting the trains through the northern United States presented problems. For example, shipping anything resembling war materials early in the war might have been construed as a breach of U.S. neutrality by Germany. Even the seemingly innocuous pulp and paper industry produced materials used for making munitions.

I was raised in two adjacent towns, Geraldton and Longlac. In fact, Longlac was so small it didn’t even rate status as a village. Officially it was an Improvement District. Each town had roads, but from Geraldton you could not drive west to Nipigon and on to Thunder Bay and Winnipeg. From Longlac you could drive east on a logging road for less than a dozen miles but then there was nothing but bush to Hearst. It eventually took 120 miles of new road to bridge that gap. Trains brought in almost everything including the industrial supplies for the gold mines in Geraldton and the logging operations in Longlac.

As the life line to both communities, trains were constantly present in my early life. The tracks ran just behind our house in Geraldton and, on Saturdays in my pre-school years, the teenage daughter of our neighbour would carefully walk my younger brother and me over the tracks to the Strand Theatre. The matinees always seemed to include one film starring Hopalong Cassidy or Johnny Weissmuller. After we moved to Longlac, my walk to public school was often interrupted by massive black steam locomotives pulling long lines of box cars, each car splashed with the name of some remote railroad company operating in North America. My chums and I always waived at the engineers and never once did we fail to receive a reply. My awe of rail became a love affair during the four years of college when I travelled regularly on CNR’s Super Continental to Toronto. The dining car with its white table clothes, polished silver, impeccable service, and ever-changing view set my life-long standard for elegance. Memories of some of the amazing individuals I met over a cut-throat game of bridge have stayed with me for over 40 years.

So, not surprisingly, I spent a few hours last Saturday at Quinte’s 14th Annual Christmas Model Railroad Show in a Belleville secondary school. The show sprawled over a number of rooms and hallways and it was jammed with people and exhibitions. Flu season is a lousy time to spend elbow to elbow, but I was quickly lost in my own fascination with the detail and scope of the tiny miniatures. Little towns, accurate in tiny detail. One exhibit even had a peephole inviting you to see the activities happening underground. Striped railroad caps were ubiquitous, one exhibitor was dressed in the full regalia of a train conductor. No doubt one of his pockets hid his magical ticket punch that grants permission for lofty passage through panoramas that the finest picture books can never capture.

Some day at a model train show, I know I’ll see an engine meticulously labelled The Orient Express. I’ll lean over and check each passenger car for the lilliputian visages of Finney and Bacall, Bergman and Gielgud, Bisset and Widmark, Redgrave and Connery. They will be frozen in time endlessly playing out, at least in my mind’s eye, a murder-most-foul. Such can be your own pleasures, too, and you don’t want to miss ‘em. Here are exhibitions coming up in southern Ontario that I garnered from brochures scattered over one of the tables:

Woodstock Model Train Show, January 3, www.woodstockshow.com
17th Annual Port Hope Model Railway Show, February 6 and 7, contact Dave (905) 885-7190 or toyshow@kwic.com
Cobourg Model Train Show, March 6, Cobourg Lions Centre, 10:00AM to 4:00 PM
Kingston RailORama Model Train Show, March 30 and 21, contact Brian West (613) 962-7731 or ovlov7@yahoo.ca
The 36th Annual Lindsay Model Railway Show 2010, April 10 and 11, contact Don McClellan, weekdays (705) 328-0474, weekends (705) 454-2746 or donald.mcclellan@sympatico.ca
Midland District Railroad Club’s 21st Annual Model Railroad Show, May 29 and 30, contact Vern Jamieson (705) 527-5307 or midlanddrc@yahoo.ca

Classic, But Still In Style

Steve Carlson — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 23:34:12 +0000

When the mighty oak sheds its last leaf and I have to use a scraper to remove frost from my windshield that can mean only one thing — flu season is in full swing. And what a bang it’s made in the media this fall. Swine flu is pandemic. Athletes and boards of directors jumping the queue for inoculation. Strident voices screaming at politicians for botching the emergency measures supposedly in place to protect us citizens.

But I can handle all of it, even the politicians. What I can’t take, however, is a message that I keep hearing pushed by Health Canada. It’s a reflection of all the other half-assed solutions I have come to expect from government. You’ve seen the message if you own a television set. It’s the one that tells you if you are going to cough or sneeze, do it into your sleeve.

How delightful! You’re riding on the subway. People around you blithely sneezing all over their sleeves. Or, if seized by a coughing fit, they alternate between one arm and the other just in case the material on one of their arms starts to drip from their violent discharges. And you, compressed tightly in the standing crowd rub arms with them as Toronto’s ‘Better Way’ burps, bumps and lurches from station to station.

There is a more sanitary device to address this problem. Anybody raised in the ’40s and ‘50s, like myself, knows all about it. It’s called a handkerchief. Generally, about fourteen inches square for men, this handy device can be purchased for a modest sum unless your delicate proboscis demands the softness of a fine, Egyptian cotton.

As a kid, I always carried one in my pocket. Some of my friends then could be forgiven for using Kleenex®, since Kimberly-Clark was the only industry that kept our home town alive. In those days, we were taught not even to spit — use your handkerchief instead. I’ve always assumed this bit of wisdom was a carry-over from the days of the Spanish flu when Canadians died by the thousands. People tried desperately then to stop its spread any way they could.

Aside from the use for which the handkerchief was designed, I would like to give you a few other reasons for carrying one if you don’t do so already. First, for the outdoorsman, a hankie is a great protection from biting insects. Simply knot two adjacent corners of your handkerchief together and place the loop formed on top of your head and under your hat. (If you’re in insect country, you will be wearing a hat.) This action will make you look exactly like a member of the French Foreign Legion with the back and sides of your head and neck protected from both mosquitoes and the sun. If your handkerchief is on the small side, tuck the bottom edge under your collar. Spraying or soaking the handkerchief first in bug repellent is the pièce de résistance. Nothing will come close, not even your friends.

A handkerchief is great for medical emergencies. One weekend when I was about 10 years old, I was given my first jack knife. The condition that my father set down was that under no circumstances was I to take it to school. In those days you weren’t strip-searched and handcuffed if the teacher discovered you were carrying a knife — my father just wanted to keep an eye on me for safety’s sake. Naturally, on Monday morning I sneaked the jack knife into my pocket. Opening and closing the blade as I walked to school, I got only a few blocks from home before I accidentally closed the blade over my left forefinger. (I still have the scar.) Blood poured out of the cut but fortunately I was able to get it stopped before I got to school by tightly wrapping my handkerchief around the cut.

“Child’s play,” you say. OK, how about this? One summer I had a college friend home for a fishing trip. Miles up the Kenogami River, we were dragging our canoe over a logging boom when the outboard motor which I had raised out of the water to clear the boom, dropped. My finger was under the motor’s mount which acted as a guillotine for one of my fingers. Fortunately, the bone stopped this appendage from being completely severed. As I steered the canoe back to town, I never did completely stop the bleeding with my handkerchief. That took our local doctor and four or five stitches.

No, I’m not prone to cutting myself with sharp objects. I have handled axes all my life and to this day I still thank my lucky stars that, touch wood, I still haven’t buried the blade into my leg or foot. (One friend of mine buried a hatchet blade into his knee cap.) I’m afraid handkerchiefs won’t work for those sorts of accidents. A shirt or light jacket is needed.

Finally, for all you Young Turks who might be reading this post, a handkerchief is a wonderful opportunity to display your chivalry. For this to happen you must always keep your handkerchief neatly folded in your pocket. In fact, your handkerchief must be kept pristine, so on any given day if you think you might use it yourself, keep a second one handy in your other pocket. This event will only happen, at most, a few times in your life so be ready.

The day will come whether you’re riding public transportation, walking in the park, dining at a restaurant, or at work when you will encounter a gorgeous young woman alone and quietly sobbing to herself. The kleenex clutched in her fingers will be a sodden mass. Approach her slowly and quietly extend your pristine handkerchief to her. If at first she declines to take it, gently insist that she can keep it or return it to you later.

Now, the main reason gorgeous young women sob to themselves in public places is because of a broken romance. When she finally returns your handkerchief, cleaned and pressed, you will never have a better opportunity to talk or ask her out. If my fading recall is correct, this has happened to me only once and that was a lifetime ago. The young lady had recovered when she returned my handkerchief and she turned out to be wonderful but I’m afraid I’m not willing to share those details.

Death Bonds

Steve Carlson — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 13:19:33 +0000

“Psssst, buddy! Want to buy a death bond? They’re the most exciting, new investment on the street today. Get ’em while they’re hot.” Hardly, at least in Canada, but I saw them pop-up in an article in The Globe and Mail last month. Death bonds are the catchy name for life settlement securitizations that are bundled life insurance policies sold, in this case, as bonds. Profits to investors come from the death benefits paid by the life insurance companies. Death can’t come too soon to maximize returns.

The article quoted life insurers’ ethical reactions to death bonds. Frank Zinatelli, Vice-President of legal services at the Canadian Life and Health Insurance Association that represents most of the life insurers in Canada said, “From an ethical context, you’re betting that someone will die. It doesn’t have the right smell.”

Interesting, but from an ethical context, death has always been the bet for life insurance’s existence. Death bonds are only another variation of the bet. As to the “right smell”? Surely, that has to be in the noses of those sniffing.

Steve Finch, an Executive VP of John Hancock Financial, part of Manulife Financial Corp. had this to say, “It’s not good public policy for investors’ returns to be driven by the early demise of a policy holder.” I’m assuming he’s referring to a public policy that he and his company would like to see everybody accept.

But I can’t help but think that policy owners should be advocating what they think would be a good public policy in this matter, too. Maybe one that’s based on the attitude: “We paid for our policies for years. Now our circumstances have changed. We’ve talked it over with our financial advisors and concluded that we no longer have the need for the death benefits that we once had. Our circumstances are such that it is advantageous to sell our policies to (or through) life settlement intermediaries who will use them to create death bonds or some other investment vehicle. There’s nothing sacred about our insurance policies, they are just another part of our portfolios. They are contracts that simply agree to pay a lump sum or face amount of money when we die. Now that vehicles like death bonds give these contracts an equity value, we would like to use the money from their sale to pursue other personal and financial goals that are now taking priority.”

Since this is Canada, there are bound to be government obstacles to these policy sales. As The Globe article points out, “In Canada, third-party purchases of life insurance policies are banned in six provinces and all three territories.” Privacy issues may create overwhelming problems for some insureds. And disgruntled ex-beneficiaries can always sue. Personally, my biggest concern would be how the Canada Revenue Agency will treat the money I receive through a life settlement intermediary. Is it taxable? If so, how? After all, the face amounts of my personal policies are paid to my beneficiaries tax-free.

Should you ever consider selling your life insurance policy, remember this. If your reason for selling is to free-up some cash because you have a terminal illness, then talk to your advisor first. It’s not well-known, but in Canada most life insurance companies will pay you part of the face amount while you’re still alive if you prove to their satisfaction that you are terminal and death is imminent, i.e. generally, likely to occur within six months. That amount may be enough to tide you over. (I have heard that the size of advanced payments in Canada range from 25% of the face amount and up.) The unpaid balance of the face amount less the interest on the advanced payment will eventually be paid to your beneficiary at your death. The sum of these two amounts is more money than any life settlement intermediary is likely to provide.