Every year brings fresh opportunities for embarrassment amongst the seniors of Victoria, and this one is sadly no exception.
I wish the powers that be would leave us alone to trundle off this pier of life in our own fashion. I realize that there must be systems in place to assist those who cannot keep the Jell-O on the spoon, etc., but for the rest of us a modicum of respect is due.
The Vancouver Island Health Authority fairly dribbles with delight at the dawning of yet another ruling it may inflict on the wrinkled populace. A la Luther, the new thesis is hammered to the front door, fomenting a slow stampede by the "grey ones."
These missives can range from less butter on the lentils to smaller beds with higher sides. They always start with headlines such as "Good news" or "After much research ...," neither of which seems to apply.
The outrage last year at this time had to do with the subject of "A little more exercise, please." These few words swept through the Senior Assisted Living Association like a dose of salts topped by a touch of curry to get things moving, so to speak. The small print revealed the bleak underbelly of the bureaucratic algorithm: funding could be cut if results were not achieved pronto.
This galvanized the executives of the seniors' homes, especially the manager of the Shy Beaver Seniors Estate, as his was pointedly referred to by the health authority as "institutionally sloth-like."
The good news was that the ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ was about to hold its renowned 10K run, and it was felt by the cringing management types that this would be the perfect opportunity to show a fresh collective enthusiasm for the Short Marathon amongst the drowsy seniors.
Now there is no nice way to tell already frightened octogenarians that they are going to have to run. But add to that the not very veiled threat that their food rations might be in jeopardy for noncompliance -- and naked alarm was the order of the day.
At the Shy Beaver, food was of a quality that might have caused a mutiny at a Dickensian poor house, but while indescribable, there were three meals a day, so run they must.
On the day of the race, busloads of freezing seniors were dropped off near the start line, wearing shorts in the colours of their establishments.
Many also wore dressing gowns over their running gear, but others were showing legs that had not felt the fresh north wind in some 40 years, which sent a charitable shiver through the warmly dressed crowd.
The Shy Beaver had added better food for the past week to the diets of the inmates to stiffen their resolve for a quicker pace but did not have enough left in the treasury to buy the purple short trousers required for the race, with the result that the team bus dropped them off wearing only examination gowns before speeding away.
Thankfully, the race started shortly thereafter, with the Shy Beaver contingent getting off to a good start if for no other reason than to keep the blood moving, and even with some optimism as they clutched the thin fabric to their privates. Unfortunately as the Shy-B group turned near the seawall, the wind picked up substantially with the result ... Just let it be said that extra ferries had to be put on that night to get the startled tourists home where, no doubt, they were treated for shock.
Please, no more threats from government.
