Monday, February 18, 2008


I come from a generation that could look at a stylized world map that would have quaint characters representing our then naive image of a country. Mexico would be represented by a Mexican sleeping siesta (face covered by a broad rimmed bandido hat) while leaning (most unrealistically) on a cactus. Germany had a man dressed in leather pants with braces and a feather hat. Argentina would have been represented by a gaucho holding boleadoras on a horse. Remote China would star a woman wearing a conical hat while planting rice.

That image has changed and many of us feel a bit disconcerted to find out that the Mexican pyramids of Teotihuacan have a nearby Wal-Mart. My generation expected beautiful and young women to greet us upon walking up the ramp (on the tarmac) of a Douglas DC-6. And we called them stewardesses.

It will soon come to pass that the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders will demand to stay on for years and will sue for damages if they are not kept until they are at least 60. This is as inevitable as the female flight attendants of Air Canada of which I need not write more.

In that idealized world of mine people on the radio had fine voices. They could articulate and spoke the language of that nation's radio stations with skill and in some cases with verve. Unlike the radio stations of Vancouver that seem to glow with speech impediments, lisps or even worse, in our Mother Corporation's lineup, the Off-putting voice of one of the hosts of As It Happens I somehow tolerate. Fortunately it isn't all bad and we have the saving grace of our local CBC's Belle Puri, Margaret Gallagher and Paul Grant.

A voice I missed was the booming, articulate and humorous voice of Doc Harris. If Doc Harris were to come back perhaps somebody may look into giving another friend of mine a job and that would be J.B. Shayne.