51 locked in a box

By: Robert C. Henry

A significant majority of Muskoka’s 51 municipal politicians have shown a remarkable inability or reluctance to think outside the box. 

Take for example the issue of municipal governance reform. Week after week the discussion has graced the pages of Muskoka’s local newspapers. Comments made; points scored, and; serious discussions have evolved. 

But to the best of my knowledge the 51 heretofore mentioned have added nothing more than silence to the discussion. One must conclude that these municipal leaders are firmly convinced the current system of duplication, waste and inefficiency is flawless with no room for improvement. 

Of course, there are those who would argue the 51 are much more interested in maintaining the status quo and perhaps – just perhaps – feathering their own comfy nests. It has also been suggested this not-so-fearless group of elected officials can’t envision positive change. 

In other words there are 51 politicians in Muskoka who can’t think outside the box. But they don’t have to strain their cerebral grey matter as studies, currently collecting dust, are available for anyone who can read. A plethora of original thinking hides within their lap-top computers. Amazing! 

But since this “we care for the taxpayer” group refuses and avoids entering into any discussion about municipal governance reform I have decided to jump off the diving board and check later to see if the pool is full or dry. 

I will start with an obvious premise: Muskoka’s environment is the primary engine of the region’s economy as without pristine forests and clean lakes and rivers the Muskoka we all love and cherish will be no more. 

It doesn’t take an Einstein to realize that a coordinated approach to environmental issues for Muskoka will not and cannot be sustained with six area municipal governments watching only their own backyards. Environmental issues won’t be resolved based on artificial geographic boundaries as Mother Nature draws her own lines. 

Of course we are stuck with the current “build it bigger” approach embraced by our myopic 51. The philosophy of more industry, more massive hotels, more pits and quarries, bigger box stores, more “perfect” roads, more well-paved subdivisions and more golf courses is not a formula for environmental sustainability. 

Moreover, employment based on building additional structures is finite. Once completed the buildings worth millions in labour and material do not continue generating significant income for Muskoka’s residents. 

So why not put a single governing body in place with a focus on the environmental as opposed to concentrating on miss-directed growth. As an aside it would be a relief to see an end to the glut of municipal committees, sub-committees and citizen advisory groups. One can only dream that a single, manageable number of elected officials would take full responsibility for all decisions related to maintaining and improving Muskoka’s environment.  

I envision a newly structured political body that would oversee an environmental protection zone, a nature preserve – a natural sanctuary. Personally, I favour “The Municipal Park of Muskoka” as a moniker. Yes, it’s a radical departure from the status quo, but it defines Muskoka for what it truly is – an environmentally and aesthetically unique area of the world. It could be promoted as a single destination with offerings from every section of the region. The piece-meal, fragmented approach to tourist promotion would finally end. 

Immediately there would be a philosophic wedding of Algonguin Park and The Municipal Park of Muskoka. Common interests could and should be shared with the Province of Ontario that would be hard-pressed to argue against the formation of such a unique municipal body. For that matter a significant portion of Parry Sound might be interested in a loose or even binding alliance with this new municipal structure. The same holds true for the Haliburton region. 

I recognize this is nothing more than a dream based on the fundamental assumption that tourist dollars (the environment) is the life-blood of Muskoka. 

The idea that I have presented is not unique and probably not very original. However, it is better – much better – than the resounding silence we’ve heard from our contented 51. 

I am reminded of a quote from Buckminster Fuller. He once said, “You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.” 

 

The value of those who have versus those who don’t

By: Robert C. Henry 

It would be a shock to learn that anyone was shocked to learn that Canada’s 100 top earners made 189 times more than the average Canadian during 2010. 

And it would be a reasonable, if not a good guess, that some of those 100 well-to-do executives own multi-million dollar cottages somewhere in Muskoka. We have neighbours who are doing more than just ok.  

This statistic, while giving significant credence to the themes expressed by the Occupy movement, also points to both an alarming trend and a huge discrepancy in what is often described as value for dollars. 

As a trend it highlights the fact that this privileged group represents the tip of a very wealthy iceberg. In fact, during the last 12 years there’s been a 444 per cent salary increase for Canada’s top CEO’s.  

The gap between the earnings of the rich and poor continues to widen while the top 10 per cent of Canadians earns 10 times more than the bottom 10 per cent. 

Tax policy could well account for much of the changes as Canada’s top marginal tax rate dropped from 43 per cent in 1981 to 29 per cent in 2010, according to the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD). Both Liberal and Conservative governments have tripped over themselves to diminish the tax burden on the wealthy. 

But sadly, one in seven Canadian children currently lives in poverty. Even more distressing is the fact that in 1989 the Canadian House of Commons unanimously resolved to eliminate child poverty by the year 2000. It didn’t happen.  

Yet there’s money to send troops to Afghanistan and muse about a fleet of new fighter jets while mumbling about nuclear submarines. 

At the same time there’s no money for those one in seven aforementioned children; no money or plan to address the plight of Canada’s aboriginal communities, and; there’s no money to reverse or seriously reduce Canada’s contribution to global warming. 

One must ask what efforts have been made to address the fact that Canada’s middle class is continually shrinking. It doesn’t take a statistician to conclude that eventually this country’s middle class will disappear, leaving two groups – a huge majority of those who don’t have and a small minority who control and own just about everything of significant value in Canada. 

Anyone who pays some attention to world events cannot ignore the fact that in many countries, where the gap been the rich and poor is pronounced, there is enormous social unrest. The Arab Spring did not occur as a consequence of a strong middle class. 

Never in Canada, you say?  Well, although we all know that figures lie and liars figure, the trend – the slippery slope towards a two-class economic system – is hard to dispute. 

I mentioned value for dollars and had a depressing few moments with numbers. 

Canada’s top CEO’s averaged $8.4 million (excluding stock options) in 2010. If they worked a 50-hour week that salary would equate to 2600 hours every year with an hourly pay of $3,230.77. 

If they took a mere 15 minutes out of every day for bathroom breaks, those private moments would have a daily value of $807.69.  

For the sake of comparison 2005-2006 data from the Canadian Institute for Health Information shows the average salary for a family doctor in Canada was $212,000. Neurosurgeons came in at $300,000 and cardiovascular/thoracic surgeons at $479,000. 

Those doctors and surgeons save lives on a regular basis. What dollar value can anyone place on those results? 

Using the same 50-hour per week calculation your family physician, on average, makes $81.54 an hour. There are very few of us who don’t owe our family doctor a huge thank. I struggle to think of a good reason to thank even one of the top 100 CEO’s. 

Let’s pursue the value for dollars theme even further. 

Muskoka is served well by a small army of volunteer firemen who do receive some compensation for the time they spend risking their lives when disaster strikes. However, their “bathroom break” compensation is not worth calculating although it might buy them a cup of coffee. 

The value of work and our county’s trend towards a two class system should be very high on Canada’s political agenda. Unfortunately, it’s not. 

 

 

My Muskoka Mother Remembered

By: Robert C. Henry – Bracebridge 

Mother’s day is now behind us and it left me thinking about my own Muskoka mother. I also let my mind wander to the contrast between today and the 50’s and 60’s in cottage country. 

I suppose it boils down to whether the collective “we” have gained or lost as Muskoka has undergone radical changes. Have the planning policies of our municipal politicians enhanced or destroyed? Has this vacation land changed so significantly that only fading memories of times past remain? Is “progress” really progress? What has been lost and what has been gained? 

Indulge me as I travel back to a now unrecognizable time in cottage country and how my mother spent her summers. 

The Henrys have been in Muskoka since 1883. My father came into possession of a small sliver of land on the Joseph River that was once part of a 268 acre parcel originally settled by my ancestors. 

My father and my grandfather built a primitive cottage. There was no running water and the walls were constructed of a cardboard-like material that one could easily punch a fist through. A box stove provided heat and the outdoor privy provided…..you know. 

Getting there was an ordeal. Driving from Toronto to the cottage took five hours and often longer, winding through every small town that is now by-passed by four to six lanes of asphalt. It wasn’t a journey with a quick turnaround. Only my father left after a few days to continue working in the city. We had begun our three-month stay. 

There was no road into the cottage so all the provisions required were heaped into a little home-made punt powered by a very temperamental two and one-half horse outboard motor. Squirming kids, delirious with “cottage fever” dragged their hands over the boat’s edge dreaming of their first swim of the season. Mother was in charge of both children and the non-perishable food supplies that she had spent the past month carefully packing in preparation for a long summer. 

To wash dishes and prepare food required water. The sibling bucket brigade swung into reluctant action with, you guessed it, mother in charge. That chore, even if meant half-bucket loads and significant struggle for the pint-sized cottagers, had to be completed. Eventually, a very modern hand pump was installed in the kitchen and mother’s children only had to pump the handle to fulfill their aquatic obligations. 

It would be years before electricity would come to that little cottage. In the interim mother cooked on a three-burner coal oil stove between wrestling one child into a high chair and watching that the others didn’t fall into the river without benefit of life-preserver. 

That coal oil stove had a small, tin oven that could be placed over the burners. Like magic it would produce the most delicious pies and birthday cakes. 

The stove was used to boil all the water we consumed. As a public health nurse mother knew all about the nasty things that live in water even though the river was crystal clear in contrast to the murkiness of today. 

Then clothes had to be washed. Water was hand-pumped or bucket-hauled and heated on the same coal oil stove. My mother would do all the washing in large tubs on the back porch using only a washboard – an article now only found in antique stores. 

A large pottery crock was buried in an area of damp soil near the cottage to serve as the family refrigerator. The top edge protruded above the ground and planks were placed over it with rocks on top to keep raccoons at bay. It stayed relatively cool, keeping butter and eggs from spoiling. 

By mid-afternoon mother’s role changed from being chief cook and sergeant of the siblings, to lifeguard. Down we went to the beach where we swam and played until our lips turned blue and our “life guard” decided we’d  had enough. 

On occasion, after supper we would go fishing. The not-so-faithful two-and-one-half horsepower would be fired (sputtered) up and off we’d go with mother at the helm, worms and fishing rods at the ready and pickerel waiting to be caught. Indeed, a number of those elusive pickerel were served the next day for supper. 

When I think about those summers I retrospectively appreciate the enormous amount of hard work my mother put in and think about today’s cottages. Of course they’re not cottages. They are more like mansions or castles relative to my experience. 

But experience is the key. Would I and my siblings have been happier in a setting of decadent luxury as opposed to what we experienced thanks to my mother’s efforts? Is the swimming better today in water less clear; or, would the food taste better; or, was there a plus side to the television and radio-free setting dominated by board games; or, would a 200 horse-power outboard offer more enjoyment than our home-made punt? 

It can obviously be argued that my mother worked much too hard and would have been happier visiting up-scale boutiques in the afternoon and serving (or having served) steak every day surrounded by every modern convenience 5,000 or 10,000 square feet could offer. However, in her last years when she looked back there were always happy memories of her time at the cottage. It was her joy, her chance to commune with nature and her opportunity to show her kids that money couldn’t buy happiness. 

I am the first to concede that our political leaders are not the only reason why Muskoka has changed from a tranquil oasis to a hub of frantic, environmentally unfriendly activity. But our political leaders did, over the years, allow the traditional ambiance of Muskoka to be sold to the highest bidder. 

Boathouses that look like small apartment buildings dot the shoreline. Thousands of trees close to the water’s edge have been dropped in favour of “the view.” Family-run resorts have been replaced by massive structures that are not, in the remotest way, a reflection of Muskoka. All of these changes occurred with political permission or were enabled by political blindness. 

Mother wouldn’t like today’s Muskoka but she was much too pragmatic to suggest the clock can be turned back. Perhaps she would say it’s time to stop and think and not just blunder on. But she would not have missed the fact there is now less nature, more noise and much too much emphasis on keeping up with the pretentious lakefront neighbours. 

I miss yesterday’s Muskoka but not as much as I miss my mother.