What Was Actually Stolen

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By Jason Menard

Just when you want to hope for the best in this world, someone comes around and makes you question whether good truly exists.

Earlier this week, my wife was robbed outside our home. The thief physically only walked away with a portable Nintendo DS Lite system. But emotionally the toll he took was far greater. To the man who robbed my wife this week, here’s a list of what you stole.

You stole confidence. That woman you robbed was outside her home late at night for two reasons: pain and suffering. Due to the continued effects of a traffic accident almost four years ago, my wife experiences crippling pain that’s barely dulled by significant amounts of medication. As such, sleep comes fleetingly, and discomfort is the norm. Combine that with medicinal side-effects including a feeling of internal heating that’s disproportionate to the actual temperature, and that explains why she – like hundreds of other nights – was sitting alone outside her own home. Yet still, despite being racked with pain, she fought back – unsuccessfully. But in that one brief exchange, she showed more humanity than you will ever know.

You stole security. A home is supposed to be one’s sanctuary, but by committing such a vile act just outside of our home, you’ve robbed a number of people of that sense of security that is one’s right. My wife, my children, and I now are more wary of stepping out our doors. The night that was once so welcome is now merely foreboding.

You stole pride. A woman struggling with an injury that already causes her to question her value now must deal with the fact that you placed her in a situation that rendered her helpless. A man, who slept through the whole ordeal – familiar with his wife’s nocturnal wanderings and no longer fazed by them – feels less of a husband due to his inability to protect his family.

You stole sanctuary. Your act was not just physical. It was emotional. While the robbery only took 10 seconds of your life, it was replayed in my wife’s mind all night and will continue to haunt her anytime she sees someone in a dark, hooded coat sweater. I, sitting at work, no longer can feel as assured that my family is secure – the questions will always linger.

You stole innocence: And this may be a good thing, in the long run. It can be argued that no one should put themselves in a position of risk – but one’s home should be exempt from that. Your act changed that. No place is safe anymore, save for our own vigilance. And vigilant we will be.

In the end, my wife did nothing wrong. In merely trying to live her life and cope with the side effects of another person’s mistake, she became the victim of someone else’s malice. You spoke no words, but your actions speak volumes. You disappeared into the night, but remain ever present in our thoughts and minds. To you, my family meant nothing. And you, who once meant nothing to us, are now an unwelcome part of our lives.

That system you stole was worth $150 at most. In the end, was it worth it? You’ve mortgaged your soul for a cheap toy. But the cost to us is immeasurable. What we’ve lost physically is nothing. What we’ve lost in terms of hope for the world, trust in our fellow man, and belief in the future is priceless.

That’s a debt you could never repay – even if you were so inclined. But for one to be so morally bankrupt as to take advantage of an injured person, then the concept of honouring one’s debt is not one that comes to mind. But who knows, maybe you’ll read this and the faint beating of that cold heart will start pounding through your callous exterior. Perhaps knowing your victims had faces, names, and feelings will stop you from believing that your actions have no lasting impact. Maybe, just maybe, you can repay the debt you owe us by becoming a better person and not putting anyone else through this torment.

Forgive me, however, for not holding out hope.

We will come out of this stronger, eventually. The one thing you cannot steal is our family’s bond and love for each other. We will be more vigilant and we will protect each other better because you’ve stolen more than just a video game – you stole our belief in a better world.

2007© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

What’s the Point?

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By Jason Menard

Mar. 13, 2007 — Stop it. You know who you are. You’re the ones sucking the fun out of life with your incessant obsession over food. You want to diet, fine – but don’t ruin my fun just because you’ve decided to swap living for counting.

You’ve seen the people – so obsessed with counting points/carbs/calories that they can’t look at food in any rational way any longer. For them cooking is no longer a culinary art, but rather a branch of mathematics. And the only healthy serving they’re receiving is self-imposed guilt.

While trying to get healthy is an admirable cause, what’s the point of living longer if you have to take the fun out of life?

Now, let me state that I’m not advocating an all-out, hedonistic, eat-what-you-want deep-fried fat fest. But nor is this borderline-obsessive, neurotic zeal for counting the right answer. As it continues to be proven in most aspects of life, balance is the key to long-term and sustainable health and happiness.

You counters aren’t happy and you’re bringing the rest of the world down with you! Sure misery loves company, but you’ve chosen to wrap yourselves in these miserable caloric and fat formulas so why punish me for your folly? Take, for example, the party. Whether at work or in social settings, invariably a relatively unhealthy snack or dessert will be presented. Unfortunately, and also invariably, one of these counters will pipe up and throw a wet blanket on the festivities.

At best, they’ll decline a piece of cake but not without explaining why, “Oh, that’s 10 points and I can’t do it.” At the worst, they’ll eat the thing and then spend the next few hours in a pathetic – and annoying – display of self-flagellation. But instead of suffering in silence, they’ll let everyone know what they’ve done – lamenting about the lost points and the catch-up they’ll have to do!

And it’s constant. The obsession dominates their lives: mornings are spent recounting how many points were wasted the previous evening; evenings are spent discussing the temptations succumbed to during the day; and weekends are spent not enjoying the time off, but obsessively watching out for potential pitfalls.

I admit that I’m not in peak physical condition. I’m an average weight for my height, but could probably stand to lose five to 10 more pounds. I was on one of these point-counting programs in the past for a few months and lost a fair bit of weight – and over the past three years I’ve been able to keep it off, but not through obsessive counting but rather common sense. I’ll indulge here and there and not feel guilty about it, but overall I try to eat right. And if someone’s celebrating a birthday at work, I’ll enjoy a piece of cake and not get too stressed over it.

Ironically, most of the people I’ve met that fall into this counting obsession are unable to lose weight. They deprive themselves so wholeheartedly that they end up feeling the need to cheat. Restricting their pleasure so much causes them to binge on an increasingly frequent basis. Yet, instead of enjoying their food, they end up wracked with guilt – again, what’s the point?

Instead of enjoying their day and all the wonderful experiences that are present to us, they’re blinded to the joys of life by the self-imposed fog of their own self-denial, self-reproach, and fear. And when you’re afraid to live, then you’re not really living at all.

Unfortunately, that dark cloud that’s permanently over their head ends up covering those around them. I’ve avoided starting conversations with people because the topic always comes back to food – or their lack of enjoyment thereof. And there are few things worse than trying to enjoy a meal under their pathetic gaze – with a look like a hungry dog begging at the table, they can’t contain their misery and feel the need to reproach you with nutritional information.

I know what I’m eating, thanks. And I’m a big boy, I’ll make my choice. And if I find myself becoming a bigger boy, then I’ll watch what I’m eating a little more. The thing is I’m keeping my weight management strategies and efforts to myself – so stop sharing yours.

Food is an experience to be shared with others. It is one of the great joys in our lives. Personally, I love nothing more than to savour a perfectly cooked steak. At that moment, I’m thinking only about the exquisite flavour and relishing every aspect of its texture. I couldn’t give a wet slap about fat content, arbitrary points, or anything else but maximizing the experience.

Now, knowing my love of steak, does that mean I eat red meat everyday? No. I try to balance – get the fruit and vegetables I need each day, restrict my sugar intake, and avoid old pitfalls like chips and salty snacks. And you know what? Over the past few years, I’ve been able to curtail my desires for the less-than-healthy foods, but not through exclusion, but sensible inclusion. Every once in a while, I’ll indulge a craving and not feel one little bit guilty about it.

What’s the point of eating if you don’t enjoy it? If that’s the case, why strive for variety – just eat the same thing with the least amount of points and be done with it. The thing is, variety is the spice of life. And food is one of the key things in making life worth living. There’s a place in life for weight management programs, but they have to be a complement to your life – not the defining focus of it.

Being healthy and happy is about balance so what happens when the pendulum swings too far towards obsession? What’s the point of obsessively counting points if you’re only trying to prolong a life that you’re not enjoying? And if you’ve made that choice, stop dragging the rest of us down with you!

2007© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

Music for the Ages

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By Jason Menard

Sometimes it takes a new set of ears to remind you how powerful music can be – and how it can move your soul.

That new set of ears came from my five-year-old daughter. On the weekend, as I was cleaning the basement – that new mess, of course, also came from my five-year-old daughter with a healthy assist from her 12-year-old brother – I decided to break up the monotony by putting on a CD.

Compounding the fact that I was dating myself with that aging format – I find the MP3 format seems so cold – I decided to delve into my personal archives for a long-lost friend. The band doesn’t matter, but it’s safe to say that I haven’t heard them in over a decade. But as the first ballad on the CD played, my daughter perked up and came to me, arms extended, asking to dance.

As we danced, I thought about how powerful music truly is. How it can create such a heartwarming memory, and how it can literally help define who we are. That night, my daughter asked for that same CD as her nighttime music – and, with just a few chords, our common bond was strengthened again.

My daughter loves music. She sings all day. Whether it’s the songs she’s learning at school or the latest hits on radio, music is a big part of her life – just as it was for me.

But as we age, that passion for music seems to fade. As a youth, in my teenage years, my friends and I used music to define who we were – and, more importantly, who we weren’t. While others were listening to the Top-40 songs that saturated the airwaves, we were delving into our past to find music with meaning. I suppose, in a way, we were looking for depth in our music to make up for our relative lack of depth in life experience.

While others were listening to dance and pop, I was delving into Elvis, The Beatles, and Bob Dylan. Some were content to Fight for their Right to Party, while I was reliving a counter-culture youth I never experienced with Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I chose The Cure, The Clash, and The Smiths, over The The.

I was deep. Even if growing up in a middle-class, suburban environment left me as deep as a puddle in reality, my music showed the world that I got it! I understood the world and wasn’t going to conform.

Then something funny happened. I grew up – and I started tuning out.

That same syntho-techno dance crap that I would rail against actually turned out to be pretty good. Those 80’s cheese songs that I thought were the bane of my existence actually turned out to be pretty damn fun to sing along to. And I stopped defining myself by what I listened to, choosing instead to define myself by who I am.

In essence, music no longer defined who I was. It was simply a part of my life. I didn’t need to be the tortured poet or the whimsical bard. I could simply be Jay. And if I find the new Avril Lavigne or Nelly Furtado song catchy, then who am I to second-guess? There’s no Sex Pistols’ credibility card out there – and it certainly wouldn’t be revoked if I’m caught bouncing my head to pop radio. Grandmaster Flash, NWA, and Public Enemy won’t turn their backs on me because I’m singing along with the flavour-of-the-month Hip Hop artist today.

Heck, even Parliament/Funkadelic wouldn’t begrudge listening to Justin Tim… well, on second thought, not even I’m ready to go there.

Looking back on it, the depth that I was conscribing from my music has been displaced by my life-earned knowledge and wisdom. Before I was searching for music that I could relate to, that I could play as a calling card exclaiming to the world “Here I am, here’s who I want to be.” Now, I am who I am and I’ll let that speak for itself.

We spend so much time in our adult lives searching for pleasure, it seems like such a waste when we deny ourselves a full range of musical enjoyment in our youth. But that’s just a fact of life, I guess. It’s a part of maturing. As youth, we define ourselves by those with whom we associate – for better or for worse.

In the end, I’ve found that those who are most prone to criticizing things that are popular or, even worse, not obscure enough, are usually those who are most apt to define themselves by their influences. Instead, I’d prefer to define myself by who I influence – and that starts with raising quality, generous, intelligent children.

Of course, if I can start them off with a few solid bands to help them find there way, well then there’s no harm in that? After all, eventually they’ll just tune them out and be themselves – defined by who they are, not what they listen to.

2007© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

My Pocket Picked by a Mouse

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By Jason Menard

Mar. 2, 2007 — Call CrimeStoppers, I’ve had my pocket picked! The culprit? A short, dark male with a propensity for wearing red pants and no shirt. He has overly large ears and a high-pitched, squeaky voice.

Aiding this crime were his female accomplice, an unintelligible duck – who should be approached with caution because his frothing at the mouth may indicate rabies – and a large, clumsy dog with an aw-shucks countenance and limited cognitive abilities. Amazingly, these clever bandits made off with my money while I was sitting in the comfort of my own home, as the real scene of the crime took place when my wife, daughter, and mother attended the recent Disney on Ice spectacle at the John Labatt Centre.

But let’s not blame Disney alone as this gang wasn’t alone in perpetrating the crime – the management of the local arena was more than a willing conspirator.

There is an expectation, at any event, that you will pay a premium for items and memorabilia. Like at amusement parks and sporting events, people are more willing to part with their hard-earned money once they’ve become caught up in the atmosphere. But the combination of over-the-top pricing and preying on small children is something that, while it fills the company’s coffers, should leave the recipients with an empty feeling.

In the end it may have been cheaper to take my family to Disneyworld , especially after considering the $15 program, the $20 wand, the $4.50 beverages, and the $10 popcorn — $10 for something that probably costs 30 cents in kernels. And we complain about movie theatre prices!

Now, the argument will be that you don’t have to buy these things, and that a simple no is enough. And we, as parents, do our best to show our kids what can and can’t be done on limited resources. Although all children will ask for everything, we try to show that you can’t have everything, and that things need to be saved up for or budgeted. We say no far, far more often than we say yes.

But at a celebration, specifically targeted to young children, you can forgive any parent for wanted to maximize the enjoyment. What seems like a cheap piece of plastic with flashing lights to an adult is, in essence, a magical experience for a young girl. To us, it’s a toy wand, to her it’s the embodiment of her dreams and a tool to use to create future memories and experiences. They say there’s no price you can put on those memories, but these cash-grabbers are certainly doing their best wring out every last dollar.

Unfortunately, the prices charged are only reflective of what the market will bear. If people weren’t willing to shell out these exorbitant rates, then they wouldn’t charge them. But there’s a subtle difference between fair market value for a product that’s targeted towards an adult, and what’s considered fair when your demographic is under the age of 10. And while parents have a responsibility to their own budgets, marketers abdicate any responsibility towards not exploit the dreams and imaginations of the youth that propel their product.

It’s not a matter of parents feeling that not buying something for their children makes them lesser parents, but rather it’s a desire to accentuate the experience by having something tangible to take home with you (or, in the case of the $4.50 Diet Coke, having something to ward off dehydration…) It’s a matter of helping to make memories last and being able to afford to do so.

The thing is, there is no legal obligation for producers and venue owners to change their price structure – it can be argued that there is only a moral one. If they can justify charging $20 for $3 worth of cheap plastic and circuitry, then so be it – they’re not alone in the market for inflating the value of their products. And, yes, adults should take a stand and fight back against price gouging. But must that stand be taken upon the foundation of our children’s imaginations?

And let’s not just base this argument on the consumer end. There are plenty of reasons why shows like this – and the venues that host them – should re-evaluate their pricing. First, the tangible: by lowering your prices, you would increase consumption. There have been many times I’ve heard people walk away from concessions and booths without spending a dime because the prices are too high. By lowering the prices a bit, while still respecting the margin, you would increase the number of consumers taking action. The key is to find that right balance to maximize profits – the same type of math we learned in high school.

Secondly, the intangible – and, by far, the most important. In large part, people aren’t offended by the total they spent, they’re irate at the individual prices. By providing better value-priced merchandise, you’ll stimulate spending, while leaving people with a better feeling about their purchases. They’ll feel they’ve received value for their dollar and will be more willing to return for subsequent events, thereby creating a self-perpetuating, steady source of reliable income. If morality doesn’t sway you, then cold hard business should.

In the end, yes, I was robbed (and thank goodness for generous grandparents – who were also robbed), but it’s an inflated price I – along with many other parents – am begrudgingly willing to pay to help my children live their dreams.

2007© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved

A Brighter Future, Not a Sign of the Apocalypse

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By Jason Menard

Can we all take our foot off the gas and slow down the ol’ hyperbole machine? Tuesday’s trade deadline deal that saw Ryan Smyth depart the Edmonton Oilers was, plain and simple, a sound business decision.

Of course, rabid Oilers fans and apoplectic pundits are preferring to spin this as a sign of the apocalypse, or at best a condemnation of a flawed CBA that’s failing to deliver on its promises. After all, wasn’t the lockout and the salary cap designed to ensure that teams like Edmonton can remain competitive and keep their marquee players.

Yes, to an extent. It’s designed to put a framework in place that prevents certain teams from overspending – essentially hurting the other clubs through their own largesse. But the trade of Ryan Smyth for a couple of former first-round picks and an upcoming first-round selection wasn’t a fire sale. It was a sound business decision to get some value out of a commodity that was probably going to leave at the end of the season.

So tell me Oilers fans. Do you want to get some value for Smyth, or would you rather see him suit up for a few more games and leave your team with nothing in return.

Sure, Smyth could have re-signed with the Oilers, but several published accounts were suggesting that he was looking for a deal in the $5.5 million per season range. Those are pretty lofty numbers for a 31-year-old who isn’t exactly a superstar. And then when you factor in that Smyth, allegedly, was looking for a five-year deal, then the trade is a no brainer.

While you may be able to justify Smyth’s heart-and-soul contribution for the next couple of years at that inflated price – and you may be able to do it, I can’t – no one in their right mind would suggest that a 36-year-old Smyth would be worth that type of cap charge. So if the Oilers aren’t able to commit to that amount now, why would they want to lock up that amount of money in a player whose returns are almost certain to diminish.

Yes, there’s more to this than just the on-ice performance. Smyth has been the face of the organization for years. But he’s also been an important regular contributor to Team Canada’s World Championship squad. And you know how you get to be on that team so often? By losing. A lot.

Those clubs are made up of players from teams who either didn’t make the playoffs or got bounced out early. The Oilers, save for last year’s outstanding run, haven’t exactly torn up the league with Smyth on the roster. This year, again, they’re looking to be on the outside of the playoff race. So why not get some assets in return for him before he walks.

Fiscal responsibility is supposed to rule the day in the new NHL. And while every team in the league would love to have the grit, effort, and scoring touch that Smyth brings, how many of them are ready to pony up that kind of cash and time commitment? I suppose we’ll find out after the season when he tests free agency.

That’s where the market will be defined. Of course, now working for a maverick like Charles Wang — who signed his goaltender Rick DiPietro to an outrageously long contract despite the fact he’s never proven to be an elite netminder – may work in Smyth’s favour. If anyone’s ready to overpay for talent, it could be Wang. But, if saner minds prevail, Smyth’s value will fall more around the $3.5-4 million per year mark in a three-year deal. If that’s the case, who’s to say the Oilers wouldn’t find themselves back in the bidding?

All we know is that the Oilers balked at the $5 million-plus price tag – and rightfully so. Sure, the club appears to have taken some hits with the loss of Chris Pronger earlier this season and now Ryan Smyth. But don’t go blaming the league or the CBA. This is merely a case of a club thinking with its head and not its heart.

Now, more than ever, the league is based on allocating revenue and resources to those who are performing in the here and now. If your salary structure is out of whack, then you have to get whacked – and that’s what GM Kevin Lowe did.

After all, those same fans who are wringing their hands in grief today would probably be wringing their hands in frustration at paying through the nose for a 35-year-old forward who’s a shell of his former self, yet still has a couple more years at $5.5 million per.

2007© Menard Communications – Jason Menard All Rights Reserved