Next in our continuing series…

Natalie Portman: American actress who does a cringeworthy British accent

Keira Knightley: British actress whose American accent I haven't heard

Part 10 of our continuing series…

Justin Trudeau, political scion

Matthew McConaughey, acting dude

• 12 more reference letters down. You do realize I’m referring to each of you as “whatsisname”, right? #fb #
• I’m at Ice Lounge (560 Danforth Ave, Carlaw Ave, Toronto) http://t.co/SOVy2wWy #
• I’m at Crema Coffee Co. (508 Danforth Ave, Logan Ave, Toronto) http://t.co/12ZrFz4G #
• I’m at World Exchange Plaza (100 Queen Street, Metcalfe Street, Ottawa) w/ 2 others http://t.co/RicwtUO6 #
• Oh man, baby bok choy sauteed in peanut oil is soooo good. #fb #
• Just re-watched the Babylon 5 finale, “Sleeping In Light”, the finest 45 minutes of televised science fiction ever produced. #fb #
• You know it’s going to be a bad day when your building’s fire alarm goes off just as you’re stepping into the shower. #fb #
• AUUUUUGHHHH!!!!! http://t.co/PXuh6Wq1 #
• This week’s top search terms bringing people to my website: “busty idiots” and “boner pants” #fb #
• Dear Epidemiology grad students, consider submitting a paper to the ACE student competition: http://t.co/tmCgGeau #fb #
• “The Adobe Acorbat plugin has crashed.” Bloatware that updates ever 10 minutes, and it doesn’t even work reliably. Grrrr. #fb #
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• Suddenly feel the need to re-watch some Babylon 5 episodes. #fb #
• There’s a NEW Mexico #FactsWithoutWikipedia #fb #
• To protect archaic, bloated, spoiled and inefficient industries, #SOPA threatens our access to the greatest free resource in history #fb #
• Dear Google and Wikpedia: you go, girl. Dear MPAA and SOPA: welcome to the scrap heap of history, you retrograde dinosaurs. #fb #
• Was going offline today to protest SOPA. But best to use the time to tell those still online why SOPA is bad: http://t.co/n6igMG7K #fb #
• One more paper accepted for publication… #fb #
• Cheap wine, a pirate movie and bacon-flavoured chocolate. #fb #
• Just got a flyer from Rogers asking that I switch to them for Internet, cable and phone service. Pause. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! #fb #
• Writing retreat almost over: 1 paper revised, 1 whole newsletter completed, 1 magazine article finished, and didn’t download p0rn once! #fb #
• Dear Health Sciences students, the deadline for the next issue of the student journal is a week away! http://t.co/xlfY545L #fb #
• I’m declaring it now. I will fight the new Facebook “timeline” format to the bitter end. #fb #
• Currently at UOttawa faculty “writing retreat”. So far, one paper has been successfully revised, and at least 6 Facebook updates posted #fb #
• Latest gift from a student. Clearly, they’re doing their research. And I do teach research, after all. http://t.co/tk3UYpaS #
• Today’s green smoothie: Swiss chard, baby bok choi, ginger, cucumbers, beets and fresh apple juice. #fb #
• The best part about cooking with wine is disposing of the leftover ingredients. #fb #
• Turkey breast Bolognese? Okay, let’s give it a shot… #fb #
• Just found out my students are auctioning me off for charity. I hope they realize my liver probably isn’t worth much. #fb #
• In exchange for a lecture, Medicine gave me $20 Starbucks coffee card on the wknd. Twenty four hours later, I’ve already maxed it out. #fb #
• Am going to be external examiner at someone’s PhD defence in Quebec…. in French. Gulp. #fb #
• I’m at Simard Building | Pavillon Simard – uOttawa (165 Waller, Ottawa) http://t.co/CNb1vBsj #
• Awkward when the grocery store check-out girl is one of my current students. Quick! Put back that magazine! #fb #
• Humidifer is set to jungle. #fb #

Continuing our regular series….

Jim J Bullock (remember? From "Too Close For Comfort")

Simon Le Bon (remember? From "Duran Duran"?)

Yeah, that's me in the beard

In my continuing project to record some of the more interesting anecdotes of my life (you know, before the early Alzheimer’s kicks in), I’m reproducing an old article I wrote for The Podium almost 12 years ago.  A much shortened version was published as a letter in the National Post in 2000.  The original article is here.

——–

[originally written Oct 4, 2000]

When I was 12 years old, I met Pierre Trudeau.

I think it was 1979 and my junior highschool was visiting Ottawa for all the typical reasons that school kids visit their nations capital: to stroll through dreary museums, read the captions of historic paintings and sculptures, and to suffer the lectures of local scholar/entertainers dressed as town criers and Indian chiefs.

But I and two friends, assisted by a particular far-thinking teacher, escaped from our 8:pm curfew one evening to commit the ultimate uncool act. We gave up sleep and the juvenile joys of our parent-less hotel room to attend a rare night session of Parliament. That evening, our federal representatives were to decide upon the issue of capital punishment. While our friends were no doubt looking for ways to watch cable TV and to steal hotel towels, we were to observe history in the making!

Of course, as I recall it, the MPs voted not to decide, and the evening was over rather prematurely and anticlimactically. But as we youngsters idled in the lobby, putting off our return to hotel imprisonment, the Prime Minister himself emerged from the House, radiating a magnificent presence that I can now only describe as Jesuitical in its meditative genius.

Mr. Trudeau waved the media aside and walked straight up to us three pipsqueaks, bending low his seemingly lofty 5′5″ frame to shake our little hands. I did not know that he was considered a short man, or, for that matter, that his marriage was dissolving at that time, or that he was about to lose an election for the first time ever. All I knew was that this man was a hero to me and my family, a figure that demanded respect and deference.

His image is thus etched into our memories, framed about obsidian eyes that shone with a lively and genuine joy. He muttered to me a very friendly greeting and something about the political process. But our attention was absorbed by the intoxicating ephemera of his celebrity, and then snatched by another source of unexpected joy for 12-year old boys: Trudeaus female chauffeur.

After his departure, followed closely by the obligatory crowd of journalists and unnamed pursuers, political mainstay David Crombie (at that time a sitting Conservative MP) approached us to help explain the Parliamentary event we had earlier witnessed. But, rudely, our juvenile eyes remained fixed on the receding limousine, each of us fully aware that we had brushed close to a great historical figure, our lives perhaps changed for the better.

Those were exciting days for a young citizen to be first exposed to the Canadian political process, capped by the graceful greeting of my generations brightest national figure. Im often saddened that the youth of today are unable to access that brand of optimistic statesmanship, that the casual profundity of a Pierre Trudeau will be forever denied our children. I wept when I learned of his death, and absorbed every media report of our nations communal grief, feeling a very honest and profound loss for the secondary father figure that had been taken from us.

Its a difficult thing to explain to some of my friends who, for whatever reason, see Mr. Trudeau as just another dead politician. Some of those friends are not from this country, so cannot understand his prominence in our lives. Some are too young to recall the air of excitement that Canadian government was able to generate in those days. Others are simply politically unaware. And others lack the very particular perspective of a whole generation of fresh immigrants.

Canada in the early-to-mid 1970s was a place hostile to anything that was not white, English or otherwise mainstream. As new immigrants, many of us endured the vocal and sometimes physical disdain of others on an almost daily basis. I can only imagine that many Canada-born francophones felt the same hostility or foreignness when they ventured beyond their safe environs. To have had the leader of the country, the most powerful voice in our society, declare his unwavering support for our rights and for our access to opportunities was a contribution as valuable as any budget or constitution. He validated us, allowed us to share his dignity. To us, he was a hero….

…And, dare I say it, a national father. It has been said by others that Trudeau is the progenitor of modern Canada. Our multicultural, free-thinking, somewhat just and fair society sprang directly from his vision. These things sound commonplace and obvious now. But they were revolutionary when first introduced. Much like losing a true parent, one is struck by the hollow horror of having to continue on without the deceaseds wisdom, his standard. Only now do we appreciate how much of him we took for granted.

I once wrote that my generation has thus far lacked the newsworthy milestones that serve to link a people to the grand trunk of humanity. I was very wrong. There have been many such instances, I realize now. And, regrettably, the death of this great man is yet one more.

It has been my very great honour to have met some truly gargantuan figures in human history. Among them, Nelson Mandela, the current Dalai Lama and a slew of Canadian political leaders. Of them all, it is Pierre Trudeau, whose hand I shook 21 years ago as a delinquent schoolboy, who most decidedly imprinted himself onto my life. I dont weep for him anymore, but for the rest of us who must continue without his clarity and profundity.

• 4:20AM and the inbox is down to 77. Good enough, yes? #fb #
• Three more reference letters down. Whew. #fb #
• That’s right. Another paper submitted. #fb #
• “The Golden Globes: the one night of the year Americans give a shit what foreigners think.” -Bill Maher #fb #
• Just wrote and submitted FIVE research abstracts to a conference. Ack. Time for scotch. #fb #
• One more grant application completed and submitted, and the work evening has just begun! #fb #
• Decadent brunch at the NAC #fb http://t.co/7ZM8prjV #
• RT “@RealTimeWWII: Death-rates among Jewish pop of Warsaw now 70/day: Typhus epidemic”. Under-discussed epidemiological aspect of WWII #
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• RT @MMAFighting: Aldo probably took more damage from the rabid crowd swarming all over him than he did from Mendes. #
• Holy crap…again #ufc142 #
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• This is what grilling in the snow looks like #fb http://t.co/kmSNlvy6 #
• Grilling steaks on the roof in -1000 degree weather. Welcome to Ottawa. #fb #
• Dear student, the word you’re looking for is “drawn”, as in, “the lines were drawn.” Sadly, “drute” is not a word. #fb #
• Taxes all done. Time to make some 2:AM beet juice. The neighbours are gonna love me… #fb #
• 2010 personal taxes done. Now on to the corporate taxes. Shh, don’t tell anyone I’m so late! #fb #
• My 2010 Fido bill = $3032. My 2011 Mobilicity bill = $504. Screw you, Rogers/Fido. #fb #
• Eight more reference letters done. I need to lie down. #fb #
• Got a serious chapati craving. What’s that all about? #fb #
• Definitely a neti pot sort of day #fb #
• stale wine + apple juice + beet juice = not bad #fb #
• Emma Frost was always more interesting than Jean Grey #fb #
• Oh crap. Sniffles and a dry throat. This can’t be good. #fb #
• One more paper completed and submitted… #fb #
• Just ate a bag of kiwis and am still hungry. Damn. #fb #
• “Q: How do you make holes in fire? A: With a fire drill, of course.” Ah, memories of the Usenet Oracle. #fb #
• On this date, 2063 years ago, Caesar crossed the Rubicon #fb #
• Reviewed a paper for BMJ and they gave me a free subscription. Now that’s peer appreciation! #fb #
• Reminiscing about when “5 inch floppy” meant a computer medium and not the other thing. #fb #
• Latest gift from a student: money tree with a Guyanese name, complete with two bottles of gin http://t.co/1vdoglNM #
• Whew! Just wrote 12 reference letters. Hope I put the right ones in the right envelopes. #fb #
• Re-watching season 6 of Stargate-SG1. Damn, I miss that show. #fb #
• “@BillGates: Major milestone: India to mark 1 year since last polio case. http://t.co/Y24gPwVv" #fb #
• Re-watching Jeeves & Wooster. That Hugh Laurie has barely aged a day! #fb #
• You can follow the IJHS student journal on Facebook: https://t.co/oz4qTY5T #fb #
• Can I squeeze in a nap between now and my next lecture? I say yes. #fb #

The year was 1987 and I was beginning my second year as an undergraduate Physics student at the University of Toronto.  The first year had been stressful beyond belief.  The U of T Physics specialist program was the toughest in the country.  It attracted the top physics students from across the nation, piled us into a single room, and let us stew in our nerdly social awkwardness.  Our marks dropped 20% each, many of us lost our scholarships, and competition between students remained heated, heightened by our inability to relate to each other.

Complicating it further was the sad fact that there were only two girls in the entire program, neither one of whom I would call my “type”.

So there we were, a bunch of depressed, suffering and sexually frustrated Physics nerds about to face a whole new year of fresh Hell.  I and my friend John (who had foolishly transferred in from Engineering) sloughed into the first class of the scary new course in Quantum Mechanics and deposited ourselves in the front row.  I looked around. Yep, once again there were no girls in the class.

The professor began his bit.  He was Scottish and sounded a LOT like Sean Connery.  “No one understands Quantum Mechanics,” he said.  “Well, maybe two fellows back in the 1930s did.  But no one alive today really understands it.  So this is what I’m going to do.  I’m going to pretend that I understand it, pretend that you understand it; and, after a year, maybe you sort of will understand it.”

I groaned internally.

Just then, two of the sexiest 20-something girls walked into the class, clutching their books fearfully to their ample bosoms.  For the first time in months, I was hopeful that this eternal sausage party would be coming to an end. One asked the professor, “Excuse me, is this French 201?”

My heart sank.

“No it isn’t,” our fake Sean Connery answered. “This is Quantum Mechanics.”

“We’re in the wrong class,” the first girl whispered loudly to the second.  “This is auto mechanics.”  And they left.

Hot AND dumb.  Damn.

(For part 7, click here.)

Christopher Plummer

Michael Fassbender

Doesn’t anyone else see it?!!!

It seems the demise of print newspapers is alarming old loons.  The world is a-changing.

A 23 year old student was telling me today about how shocking it is to consider that her 19 year old sister has never known a world without the internet.  Mind you, I’m pretty sure my student doesn’t really recall the pre-internet times, either.

I then told her that I was born before man walked on the Moon.  This literally horrified her as her jaw fell agape.  Yes, it makes me feel old.  But I’m also rather proud to be of a generation that both pre-dates and created the digital, modern world.  I like to remind people that the Apollo spacecraft had less computing power than most peoples’ wristwatches.  Well, I used to say that, back when people wore wristwatches.  Now, I guess I have to say cell phones.

I also used to say that half the world has yet to make a phone call.  This was, of course, before the mobile phone revolution.  (Mind you, the stat is debatable.)  That’s right, kids: there was a time before you were able to make a phone call or send a message at your convenience.

I was also chatting with a friend’s 16 year old daughter this past week, explaining to her what life was like when I was 16.  It’s both depressing and inspiring to consider the ways in which technology has profoundly changed they ways in which we live, as quickly as a few decades.

When I was 16, it wasn’t unusual to have but one phone in each house.  Usually, that phone was in a central part of the house, so everyone could hear your business.  In most cities, only the caller could end the conversation; if you called someone and didn’t hang up, the other party couldn’t just hang up and end the call.  This was nightmarish for homes with teenagers, since teens thrive on their social contact.  If you have to talk to your friends, or call a girl, you have to wait until the phone was free… and then you had to time it so that the girl’s phone was also free!  Remember: no email, no texting, no cell phones; this was our only option!

In times of extreme need, we’d run across the street to use the pay phone.  But even those were often in use!  Oh… and there used to be pay phones on every corner!

One time, my future girlfriend was waiting for a call from me.  Meanwhile, I was building up the nerve to call her.  Of course, I had to wait for my home phone to be free before I could make the call.  But then, when I finally did, her line was always busy!  Turns out, her Dad was on the phone and she was begging him to get off, without telling him that “a boy might be calling.”  Predictably, he got off the phone for 30 minutes and told her, “Okay, I’m off.  Make your call.”  In retrospect, I sympathize with her frustration as she wanted to scream at him, “It doesn’t work like that!”

If you were really stressed out, you could call the Operator and ask for an “emergency breakthrough”.  She would interrrupt a call in progress and tell the parties that a third party wanted in.  Yes, most of us teens did this at least once.

Oh, and because the house had but a single line, you could never be sure your parents or siblings weren’t eavesdropping on your conversation.  (This became possible when they finally made additional phones available on the same line, sometime in the late 70s, I think.)  You always had to listen for that “click” that meant your parent had put the phone down before you started your private conversation.

Mind you, from a societal perspective, this might not have been a bad thing.  It ensured that a parent was usually aware when their teenager was receiving a call, and usually ensured that parents knew who their kids’ friends were.  These days, they rely on Facebook for that!

Additional phones became widely available (again on the same line, or number) sometime in the 1980s, as I recall.  That’s when they started installing “jacks” so you could plug your phone into the wall.  Before then, we had to wire the phones directly into the wall by screwing the right wires to the right poles.  As a kid, I used to play with the phone wiring a lot, trying to figure out which wires were responsible for what aspects of the signal.  I learned a lot about electronics and telecommunications that way.

The lack of email and cell phones meant that when you made plans to meet your friends, you had to abide by those plans!  There were no last minute changes, or texts/emails with, “I’m running late!”  You had to show up and trust that your plans held up.  This was the source of much confusion, miscommunication and frustration, especially when trying to coordinate group activities.

(Don’t get me started on the revolution of ATM machines!  Prior to their arrival, again sometime in the mid-1980s, you had to rely on whatever cash you happened to have on hand.  This meant planning your weekend expenditures well in advance, since banks were never open on Saturdays.  And, of course, no one had a credit card, and the debit card had yet to be invented!  In retrospect, this was a good system for saving money, or at least for avoiding extraneous expenditures..)

Answering machines became prevalent in the early 80s.  Electronic voicemail about a decade later.  Before this development, you had to wait by the phone if you were expecting important information.    In other words, the phone compelled geographic stagnancy!

Okay, I’m droning on.  Next, I’ll be complaining about them dang kids in my yard with their boogie-woogie music.