A not so 'happy' recall notice

Last spring when the movie Shrek Forever After was in the theatres McDonald's helped cross-promote it with glasses depicting Shrek, Donkey, Puss in Boots and Princess Fiona. I remember it well because Shrek and his pals were advertised everywhere around the restaurant not to mention in television commercials broadcast across North America. So when the kids asked for one we said yes.

A few days ago as I sat in a booth eating a spicy Thai salad while the kids indulged in their Happy Meals I glanced up at a small glass encased bulletin board when something caught my eye -- a recall notice. There, in black and white, the notice told customers who had purchased those colourful Shrek glasses to return them to the restaurant for a full refund. Nowhere did it say why the glasses were being recalled. For more information it told you to call a customer service number. But here's the best part, the recall notice was dated June, 2010.

A quick check on Google soon gave me the reason why McDonald's recalled the Shrek glasses -- pigment in paint on the glasses contained cadmium and that long term exposure to this substance "could cause adverse health effects."

I couldn't help but think how often my family's used the Shrek glass since last spring. It would have been nice if we'd known about its recall in June when it was first announced. I realize now, almost four months after the fact, that the recall was published in a few daily newspapers. It's too bad I did not see those stories. Now if McDonald's had put even a fraction of the effort into promoting the recall as they did the original movie I may have discovered the recall earlier and taken the damn glass out of the cupboard. It was just plain dumb luck I saw the notice when I did. Better late than never.

The cadmium in the paint on the Shrek glasses will not kill anyone and there have been no reported sicknesses since McDonald's became aware of the problem. That's the good news.

What irks me though is the lack of play the recall got despite the fact that 7 of 12 million of the glasses were sold across North America. Good news gets big play while bad news is downplayed despite the fact it deals with the health and safety issues of customers. It's just not right.

Winds of change for Ontario

Of all the methods of producing electricity the most common in Ontario are nuclear and coal. Both methods keep our lights on but they share one negative -- pollution.

Coal fired plants are dirty and spew toxins into the atmosphere. Nuclear reactors leave behind radioactive material that has to be stored for hundreds of years.

Another method of producing electricity that I didn't give much attention until August was wind turbines. The technology has become very popular and is said to become even more widely used in the next few years. The upside is that wind turbines produce zero pollution.

I think wind turbines are cool. They're big, white, powerful and tower over everything around them. The one at the CNE I often watch as I'm stuck in traffic on Lakeshore Boulevard.

In August I took the family to beautiful Bruce County to a cottage in Port Elgin. The countryside up there was beautiful, farmland everywhere resting on the shores of Lake Huron. This wasn't the first time we'd been to Port Elgin, we'd traveled there before five years ago. What caught me off guard on this most recent trip though was the number of wind turbines that dotted the landscape. Driving between Port Elgin and Kincardine there were wind turbines as far as the eye could see. For someone like me, a creature of the Greater Toronto Area, the sight of so many of those structures was a sight to behold.

I Facebooked about it and got a reply from a former colleague of mine, Dwight Irwin, who now resides in Ripley (near Kincardine) that wind turbines weren't all they're cracked up to be. There's a lot of opposition to them up there. Noise and vibrations were the most common complaints. They do make some noise I will admit as I stopped at the Bruce Power Information Centre where there were quite a few of those wind turbines set up. But given the majority of the wind turbines were located out in the middle of huge swaths of farmland, kilometres away from any residential areas I found it hard to believe noise could be that big a problem.

The Province of Ontario is on track to quadruple wind capacity by 2015 according to a story in the Toronto Star (http://www.thestar.com/business/article/866129). It's going to cost as much as $14 billion according to the Ontario Power Authority. That's a lot of coin but with Premier Dalton McGuinty vowing to take coal fired plants offline he's got to come up with an alternative fast. And given the new nuclear build at Darlington is on hold right now until the sale of Atomic Energy of Canada Limited -- a federal Crown corporation -- is taken care of wind turbine generation seems to be the direction the government is blowing. Even if AECL wasn't for sale it would still take 10 years to build the new nukes so something needs to fill the electricity void being left by coal plants going offline.

When it comes to electricity there's really no technology that's going to please everyone. We all want the lights to go on when we hit the switch. Nuclear doesn't seem to be going anywhere soon so replacing coal with wind seems like a good idea to me.

Relearning an old habit

One would think that given the number of years I've been practising handwriting it would be easy passing on this skill to my son.

Not so.

I sat down with Tavish this week to start the cursive handwriting process using the alphabet. We started at the beginning with the letter A. Simple enough.  I put my pen on the paper and told him to watch how to write a capital A.

"You go like this. . ." I said. But my hand didn't move.

I sat there for a few awkward moments trying to remember the proper way to write an A. Over the years my capital A's have taken on a life of their own so I didn't want to begin the lesson teaching my bad habits. He'll have enough time to develop his own.  As I sat there thinking Tavish turned to me and said, "Come on Dad, let's go."

"Just a second, I have to ask your mother something," I said.

Heather said it was just a small A only bigger. But somewhere in the back of my mind I could picture the cursive alphabet above my Grade 3 chalkboard. So what did we do to find the answer? We turned to the Internet. Figures. I go to teach my son an old fashioned skill and I need to turn to the Internet to figure out how to do it.

Most of us write in our own ways. We learned handwriting the proper way but then over time developed our own styles. I'm no different, you're no different. It's only until I was asked to show Tav how to go teach him the basics of cursive writing that it dawned on me that I don't remember a lot of the basics.

We've gone over the letters up to F and Tav's learning just as much as I'm remembering. We're both getting something out of the exercise.

Burned out over electricity costs





A couple of years ago I wrote a column about my frustration with energy efficient light bulbs. In a nutshell I said they were a sham and light bulb manufacturers were making a killing off of suckers like me who thought they were doing good by the environment.
Consider this the sequel to that column.





Those twisty light bulbs were touted as being able to last for years as opposed to the old fashioned light bulbs that lasted a few months at best. I'm looking at a box of the twisty little deceivers right now and it says in bold type 'Lasts 7 years GUARANTEED'. That's funny because I installed the light bulbs that came from this box just last summer and guess what? Three of the five burned out this week.

On the other side the box of those energy saving mini twister lights is an Energy Star symbol proclaiming the bulbs will save me $376 in energy costs over the 7 years they're in use. It should have read 'íf the lights last that long'.

It's also difficult to appreciate a $376 savings when Premier Dalton McGuinty has guaranteed  all Ontario taxpayers will pay more in electricity costs when he takes all our coal burning plants offline, has every household outfitted with smart meters (peak period billing means more money for hydro, less money for you) and let's not forget the HST that we now get to enjoy on top of the 'debt repayment charge' on every electricity bill.

I'm feeling about as burned out now about electricity costs as these useless twisty bulbs.





Get it right, then get it up

Being a member of the media I know all too well the rush you get breaking an exclusive news story. With it comes accolades from your peers and it builds you a solid journalistic reputation with your readers.

The opposite can happen when you flub a story. Errors happen daily in newspapers across the world and every reporter who's made one knows the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you open the paper and see the mistake. There in black in white is your screw-up for everyone to see. It sucks.

The Internet has made it even quicker to break an exclusive story. As a journalist you're not constrained by deadlines. As soon as your story is done it can be published by the simple click of a button. Twitter, the online micro-social media site, can make the story go viral in a matter of minutes. Such was the case this week when a Toronto Star reporter Tweeted that former Toronto Maple Leaf's coach Pat Burns had succumbed to his cancer. The only problem with his Tweet was the fact that Burns wasn't dead.

It didn't matter that the Tweet was quickly deleted once the mistake was discovered. By that time it had travelled around the globe and condolences were being posted on Twitter, Facebook and other social media sites. On other news sites it was being reported as fact before anyone had bothered to pick up a phone and confirm the information.

A former colleague of mine used to say "Get it up, then get it right." I never agreed with that method of thinking. I understand the pressures of media competition, especially in Toronto. Having worked in that city for 14 years I know how intense it is to break the news first. But before you Tweet something as a journalist you'd better know for sure it's factual, especially if it involves the death of one of the most popular Toronto Maple Leaf coaches in recent memory.

Many reporters and news organizations can be followed on Twitter and Facebook these days. I follow countless news sites and media colleagues to keep in touch with what's going on in the world. I'm a news junkie so this is what I do. I use Twitter for professional reasons and post to it in a professional manner. If I wasn't in the media I probably wouldn't have much use for the site.

Having said that, news items I post to Twitter are finished and edited. I link all of them to durhamregion.com because I want as many readers as possible to come to my site. If what we're posting to our website turns out to be consistently factually incorrect or not interesting I'd lose my followers and traffic at durhamregion.com would drop like a stone.

Reputations are tough to build in this business and they can be ruined in no time flat if you don't do your job right. Journalists shouldn't take Twitter or Facebook lightly. If you post to these sites in a professional capacity it's the same as if you were publishing a story in a newspaper. Get it right, then get it up, not the other way around.

Found money, is there any better kind?

There probably isn't anyone reading this who hasn't found money before. Whether it's a penny, loonie or something of a more significant denomination, discovering cash is a rush.

The first time I came upon lost money I was in Grade 2. I was sitting by the long jump pit in the schoolyard with my back to the fence. On the other side of that chain link was a $2 bill. Yes, those were the days before toonies, back when paper money ruled the day. If you had coins in your pocket they usually didn't add up to much.

I stretched my fingers through the chain link fence and bingo, the money was mine! Well, it was almost mine. I took it to Mr. Horton and turned it in. Two weeks later he presented it to me in front of my classmates. I was the poster boy for honesty and being honest paid that day. I used that two bucks to buy a C-240 skateboard, the single best purchase of my life.

Fast-forward to the late 1990s. I've just purchased my first new home with my wife Heather and my in-laws are up visiting. It's raining outside and my backyard is a huge pile of mud. I look out while speaking with my mother-in-law Kathy and there staring up at me from a puddle is Lester B. Pearson. Cha-ching! I used that $50 to buy my young daughter Rebekah an Elmo doll.

I figured nothing could beat finding $50. But I was wrong.

In 2004 I went out to the Black Dog Pub in Scarborough to interview an author who had written a book on pubs. It was early afternoon and the place was empty. Once I was finished with my interview I moved to an empty table while our photographer took a picture of the guy with his book. Looking down at my notepad I spotted a $5 bill by the leg of the table. I bent down to pick it up and beside that $5 bill was a $20 bill. Beside that $20 bill was another $20 bill. Cha-ching! I put that $45 in my previously empty wallet. Life was good.

The very next day I was at the gym and between sets I took a break and was just sitting there staring at the floor. Part of the floor fluttered and caught my attention. When I looked down I saw a $20 bill. There was nobody around me so I picked it up. Cha-ching!

A few days later I was sweeping out my garage on a windy October evening. I was alone with my thoughts when I was rudely interrupted by the Queen. That's right, a $20 bill blew up my driveway and landed right on my broom. In a period of seven days I'd found $85.

I haven't found anything since that windy October evening but whenever my kids pick up loose change from outside and come rushing in to show me all the money they've discovered I always enjoy telling them my stories of found money. They always enjoy hearing them and I get to re-live the rush of telling them about found money.

This lesson brought to you by . . .

When I worked at the Scarborough Mirror the newspaper did a story on a school that had a track and outdoor basketball court refurbished using the rubber from old sneakers. It was a very cool environmental project that allowed the school's old outdoor facilities to be transformed into new.

The cost to the school board for this project? Nada. Nike picked up the tab and the whole community benefited.

There was little if any downside to this project. The only complaint I heard was a grumble here and there about the Nike swish plastered everywhere. In my mind that was a small price to pay to get kids out using the outdoor track and basketball courts again.

I now have three children in the school system and I'm beginning to think business sponsorship is the only way to give parents a break. Every school year there are fundraisers for school equipment whether it be something for the gym or white boards (that is something our school has put in its newsletter since our eldest daughter started school nine years ago. You would think the school would be flush with white boards by now!).

But what about text books? Each and every year during the first weeks of school my kids bring home notes asking for money for these school essentials. Today Tavish came home with a $25 request for an agenda, math and language textbooks. Rebekah came home with her own note asking for the same amount of money for similar textbooks. Bronwyn hasn't had her first class yet but I'm hoping JKs aren't expected to pay for textbooks as well!

Would it be too much to ask the Province of Ontario or the Durham District School Board to provide textbooks? Long gone are the days when our tax dollars paid for everything but give me a break. Parents these days are being asked to fund for everything from pencils  and erasers to textbooks and yes, even white boards. Maybe Nike or Nintendo would be interested in helping out our school board with some funds. Plaster the halls with swishes, put the Nintendo logo on the inside cover of every textbook, whatever. At the end of the day all our kids need access to a proper education and if the current model of providing this education isn't working, fix it. If that means corporate sponsorship for the essentials, make it happen.

I saw Nike provide outdoor physical education facilities for a Scarborough school that could not afford it. I think it's time the Durham District School Board consider similar methods of funding because it's clear to parents the system the way it's set up is not working now.

A new twist on an old skill -- handwriting

My son Tavish came back from his first day of school today and as he was telling me about a million different things he said something that really caught my attention.

"Dad, Mrs. Dickson said we're going to learn handwriting," he said.

Handwriting, what is that?

In these days of the mini computers and text messaging I thought handwriting was a long gone thing of the past. But my son's Grade 3 class will be learning the skill.

Tavish during a lighter moment.

Tavish's sister Rebekah did not learn handwriting. She's now in Grade 7 and couldn't physically write a sentence if her life depended on it. Text it, no problem, type it, no problem but write it, big problem. I don't believe handwriting is anywhere in the curriculum but certain teachers, such as Mrs. Dickson, take it upon themselves to pass along the skill.

I remember learning handwriting in Grade 3. I also remember the days when all your assignments had to be handwritten, double spaced and legible. It wasn't until high school when teachers began expecting essays to be submitted typed. Ask a student today what a typewriter is and see what type of a reaction you'll get!

Computers have made handwriting a thing of the past. Why write something when you can type it twice as fast?

I still write in my journals with a pen. I think it reflects a bit of my personality. Some days the writing is perky and bright, other days  it's sloppy. By just glancing at the page you can almost get a sense of how that day was so many years ago without ever reading a single word. The ebb and flow of the pen almost tells a story itself.

I'm happy Tavish is learning this new skill and I think I'll send Mrs. Dickson a note -- a handwritten one at that -- expressing my feelings. Maybe I'll write it in Latin...

One big plastic mess

The other day I saw a picture of hundreds of plastic bottles and other plastic scraps floating in the ocean. It was a mass of crap discarded by people no different than you and me.

It got me thinking, why do we use so much plastic?

When I was a kid one of my first jobs was as a bottle boy at Becker's Milk. My main responsibility was to take returned pop bottles (or soda bottles if you prefer) and carry them downstairs putting them in their appropriate crates. Coke products went in the red crates, Pepsi products the yellow crates, Canada Dry in wooden crates and all Becker's Cola bottles in green crates (I can't believe I still remember this!). There were also smaller crates for the 10 ounce bottles that used to be popular with kids. Once a week the Coke rep would pull up in his truck, take all the sorted red crates and drop off crates with full bottles. Ditto for the Pepsi and Canada Dry representatives.

It was an efficient and environmentally responsible system, one which the Beer Store still uses today. Unfortunately the Beer Store is one of the last companies still doing right by the environment. Cola companies today use plastic for practically everything. Glass bottles have gone the way of the dinosaur.

Somewhere along the line somebody figured out that more money could be made by using plastic, not glass. The compromise? Recycling programs such as the blue box. Today the Region of Durham is inundated with pop bottles, yogurt containers, milk containers and the like. One of the most common things found in blue boxes around my neighbourhood is water bottles. Guess who sells most of these? You guessed it, cola companies.

Now if every plastic bottle used made it to the blue box there wouldn't be a problem. But that's not the case. Take a walk anywhere and you're bound to find plastic bottles of all shapes and sizes littering roadways, ditches or schoolyards.

Let's also not forget the plastics that the blue box program doesn't accept. Buy a cooked chicken from the deli counter at any grocery store and the plastic container it's in has to be discarded in the trash. You can't even recycle the paper Tim Hortons coffee cups because apparently they have a microscopic plastic layer in them.

Earlier this summer an outside company inspected Durham Region's trash to see if residents were throwing away the right stuff. Since the green bin program went into effect a few years ago the Region's been monitoring what we throw out to make sure the majority of us are recycling responsibly. The company reported in an Oshawa This Week story (http://www.newsdurhamregion.com/article/156855) that they were shocked by the amount of plastic in our trash. This plastic wasn't the type residents are able to recycle.

Plastic is everywhere and unfortunately it doesn't biodegrade. It's no wonder we find it littering the oceans, our neigbhourhoods and schoolyards.

When I first saw that picture of a big mass of plastic bobbing in the ocean I was surprised. I shouldn't have been. We put it there.

Making softball memories

When I was a kid summers meant ball season. I loved playing softball and took every opportunity to throw the ball around. The person who always played catch with me was my Dad.

I must have drove my father nuts with my constant requests to "play a catch". I would wait for Dad to come home from work and before he had changed out of his work clothes I'd ask him to throw the ball around outside. He rarely said no although I know most days he wanted to spend just a few minutes decompressing his day with my Mom. Together we nearly wore holes in the front yard where we'd play catch.

When you're young the world is all about you. I was no different than any other young person then or now (despite the fact I cannot technically be classified 'young' anymore!). Deep down I knew I was pushing my luck asking Dad to go outside twice a night, seven days a week, sometimes more on the weekends. But playing ball was my life and I wanted to embrace it at every opportunity.

Fast-forward to present day. I have a son Tavish and he enjoys softball just as much as I used to growing up. Now, instead of asking the question, "Want to play catch?" I am being asked, "Want to play catch?" And just like my father never saying no, neither have I.

I have a many reasons for picking up the glove and going outside to play a catch. Foremost, I love my son and the fact he wants me to play with him more than anyone else fills my heart with joy. I also must confess to being an old kid who still loves to play softball. Hearing the snap of a ball hitting the sweet spot in your glove is a rush. So is the sound of a bat making solid contact with a pitch.

There's another reason why I go outside whenever Tavish asks me to. It's what my Dad taught me. I think I loved playing softball so much because he was playing it with me. The love of the game was my love for him.

I had a memorable childhood on many of the ball fields in Oshawa. I hope my son has just as many of these memories to reflect on when he grows up. Who knows, maybe he'll have a son who asks him, "Want to play a catch Dad?"