LEGENDS OF THE MIDEAST, A PRESIDENT WITH SUPERPOWERS, AND HECKLE AND JECKLE BACK IN THE SPOTLIGHT

Your wide-eyed correspondent bears witness to a legend born in the Middle East, is staggered by the news the pesky magpie is now the official bird of Edmonton, and warns Donald Trump that his affinity for Superman could invite unwelcome scrutiny to his views on immigration

Alas, I could not find a photo of the legend-worthy incident recounted below, but here is a shot of the two principals involved: me on the left facing the camera, and beside me Dave Wenger, the Mount Forest perpetrator, as we disembarked from a Canadian Forces plane at the Nicosia airport in Cyprus.

PROBLEM-SOLVING IN THE MIDEAST

Back in 1987, which was—let me do the math … ohmigawd—38 years ago, your faithful correspondent went on a press junket to West Germany, Cyprus and Israel to report back on how our Canadian soldiers were faring with their responsibilities. The Canadians were attached to NATO in West Germany (pre-unification, natch) and as part of the United Nations peacekeeping force in Cyprus and on the Golan Heights. Golan is an escarpment overlooking the Sea of Galilee and the surrounding valley and was then part of Israeli-occupied Syria. I suppose it still is.

We spent one night in Tiberias, an Israeli city of about 50,000 on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, which is really just a good-sized lake. The next morning, our plan was to take our bus up to the Golan Heights to visit a Canadian military base there that was serving as a buffer between Israel and Syria. As we traversed the northern shore of Galilee, our otherwise reticent guide volunteered it was in this area where Jesus delivered his sermon on the mount, which was kind of interesting. Then he said there was a grove nearby where legend has it Jesus was baptized. Now he had our interest.

Visions of a blue-eyed Jeffrey Hunter getting dunked by a gravitas-laden Robert Ryan danced in our heads. With one voice, our troop insisted the driver take us there.

The grove’s dominant feature was a stand of trees surrounding a bend in the river that wasn’t so much a river as what we’d call where I grew up a creek. Yet sure enough, there was a sizable if sandy parking lot there, posted signs indicating this was where Jesus was baptized, steps down to the water’s edge, and a dock. Nearby was a sign that read if you wanted to take home some of the water from the creek, it was like five bucks a jug. It was obvious the intent was to suggest the water was sacred. One colleague from Manitoba decided he was going to take a jug home to his pastor for use in the baptisms at their church. I considered it for a fleeting moment, then decided I wouldn’t want any of my children doused with water I wasn’t sure was even potable.

I snapped a few pix from the dock, then headed back up the stairs to where the bus was waiting. Standing nearby was my dear friend Dave Wenger, a newspaper guy from Mount Forest, Ontario. He was examining the coating of dust and sand and dirt that blanketed the bus’s back window. He then turned and noticed a water pipe and tap nearby. The tap was attached to a garden hose. It was obvious the source of the water was the small creek where Jesus was baptized. Dave looked again at the dusty bus window, back at the tap, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. Dave then grabbed the hose, turned on the tap, and started washing. I have a pic of it somewhere.

I laughed myself silly at the delicious irony. The “sacred” water that was selling at the bottom of the stairs for five bucks a jug was now flowing freely out of a garden hose to clean the back of a bus. I’ve been dining out on that story ever since. Sadly, Dave died in 2011, so I guess it’s one way to keep his memory alive.

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THEY DID WHAT?

Those of you who have “friended” me on Facebook might recall that I’ve been known to complain occasionally about the magpies around here. “Magpie,” Ian Tyson once crooned, “Always waking up my wife and I, You old coyote in the sky.”

Well, it was with some element of distress that I report the great citizenry of Edmonton has voted the “bold chastiser” of the avian world the city’s official bird. I am not making this up. It was in the Globe and Mail. Page 2 with a bullet.

This is like naming the hectoring old biddie who lived next door to your crazy Uncle Carl the Citizen of the Year because her slanderous and malicious gossiping was deemed a public service.

You might not see magpies everywhere in North America, but you will find them squawking in just about every neighbourhood in this city of 1.6 million people—and being mean to practically every one of them. Newcomers to the city invariably remark, “Oh, what a pretty bird” [Ed. Note: I know I did], only to be educated by a local who points out their numerous shortcomings.

It was the environmental organization Nature Alberta that conducted the contest to name Edmonton’s official bird, generating 40,000 responses. Magpies snared 40 per cent of the vote, more than any other bird. These people have a twisted sense of humour.

Still, some folk say nice things about ol’ Heckle and Jeckle. Avian ecologist Elly Knight says Edmontonians strongly identify with them. “They’re plucky, they’re tenacious, they’re smart,” she told the Globe. “They’re very family-oriented. They stand up for each other.” Moreover, they’re not scared of winter.

Yeah, well neither is the abominable snowman, but I don’t want him in my yard, either.

Heckle and Jeckle are probably the world’s most famous magpies. The pestering pair were prominent players in the cartoon world from the 1940s to the mid-‘60s.

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NEWS THAT FITS

“I think if Clark Kent was still at the Daily Planet, he would have been laid off by now.”

—Me reflecting in Facebook back in our California days on the weakened state of the newspaper business.

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The White House released this depiction of President Trump as Superman. Ah yes, ‘The Hot Mess That’s Able to Leap Tall Buildings in a Single Bound.’ Could this comparison go awry? You bet.

MORE POWERFUL THAN A LOCOBAMA

The colossal ego and naked ambition that is Donald Trump soared to new heights this past week when the White House press office released the graphic above. It’s the President depicted as Superman, champion of “Truth, Justice and the American Way.” Any normal human would be embarrassed by such a comparison. Not so Trump. Maybe this is what he sees when he looks in the mirror in the morning.

Still, Trump could come to regret the comparison. After all, Superman is an alien, literally. Moreover, he entered the U.S. illegally, aboard a rocket dispatched from his home planet. His adoptive parents surreptitiously took him in without the consent or even knowledge of any official of the U.S. government.

It should not be unexpected for masked agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement to attempt snatching him off the street, though we cannot offer any assurances on how that might go.

Nevertheless, Trump would be wise to deny any friendship with this illegal immigrant beyond his customary “I never heard of him,” or “Maybe I met him once in Palm Beach,” and disavow any alliance with the Man of Steel. That would be U.S. steel by the way, not the foreign kind.

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NEWS THAT FITS

“I think if Clark Kent was still at the Daily Planet, he would have been laid off by now.”

—Me reflecting in Facebook back in our California days on the weakened state of the newspaper business.

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FROM THE ‘DEAR TERRY’ MAILBAG

Re ‘The Sting is Mightier Than, um,’ July 13. Terry, a selfless, great sacrifice was made by a small heroic creature to help humanity by ridding the world of a billionaire. That bee deserves a posthumous medal. I’m sure his entire hive is very proud. John Lucas, Edmonton, Alberta

Ed. Note: As a wise old wag once said, “Nobody likes any well-known rich guy over 40.” John, since I’m already over 40, remind me to never make a billion. I’m keen to stay on your good side.

If you want to drop me a note (and risk me publishing it here), just reply to this email or, if you prefer send it to mysundayreader@gmail.com.