I will never! Never! Never! NEVER! - The Devil's Desk with Old Nick

I have always believed that a good argument should begin with a concession. It establishes goodwill, demonstrates intellectual flexibility and gives the other person the gratifying impression that they may yet win. So let me begin by saying that Betty White was a remarkable woman, Wingham has every reason to be proud of its connection to her family and the proposed statue is undoubtedly being considered by people with the very best intentions. I have no quarrel with any of that. My quarrel is with what happens next.

 

A little local history can be a lovely thing. Betty White’s maternal grandmother, Margaret Hobbs, was born in Wingham on March 5, 1877, before the family eventually moved to the Chicago area. I see no objection to a plaque, a newspaper feature, a library exhibit or a handsome display in a local heritage centre. These would preserve the facts, honour the connection and leave everyone perfectly free to get on with their lives.

 

A statue, however, is a different proposition. A statue is a fact that has acquired a pedestal. It occupies space, requires maintenance and invites people to stand nearby with their hands on their hips while explaining what it means. Before long, somebody will suggest a commemorative bench. Then a flower bed. Then an annual ceremony. A child will ask why Betty White is standing there, and an adult will explain the story to the child, who will carry it home and repeat it at supper. A family will make a special trip to see it. Someone will take a photograph. Someone else will share the photograph and write, “So proud of our little town.”

 

I trust you can see where this is heading.

 

Pride in one’s community is a perfectly respectable emotion, and I would never suggest otherwise in print. In private, I have devoted considerable resources to discouraging it. A person who thinks their town is worth caring about may volunteer at the library, help a neighbour with a difficult task or attend a meeting without immediately assuming that everyone present is an idiot. Two neighbours may discover that they disagree about politics but agree about snow removal. They may even continue speaking to each other afterwards. It is a slippery slope.

 

I know a little about slippery slopes. I have maintained several.

 

Over the years, I have learned that human happiness rarely announces itself as a major event. It begins with small, inconvenient gestures. Someone holds a door. Someone remembers a name. A stranger gives directions without first assessing whether the person asking deserves them. These things seem insignificant, but they accumulate. Given sufficient time, they can produce a community that is difficult to divide, and I cannot recommend such a community from a professional standpoint.

 

You might suppose I have more pressing concerns than a statue in Ontario. You would be right. There are wars, rumours, quarrels, election campaigns, comment sections and an endless supply of people who confuse being offended with being correct. I have a meeting about pitchfork ergonomics that has been postponed four times, largely because nobody can agree on the seating arrangement. I am also appealing a parking ticket issued during Queen Victoria’s reign. The matter is complicated by the fact that the parking regulations have changed, the street no longer exists and the original officer has been dead for 126 years. I remain confident of a favourable outcome.

 

Nevertheless, the statue continues to trouble me.

 

I have therefore prepared a modest alternative. Wingham could establish a committee to determine the most appropriate means of commemorating the connection between Betty White and Margaret Hobbs. The committee would consult residents, review historical materials and consider the relative merits of plaques, displays and other educational initiatives. It would publish a preliminary report, invite public comment and submit a revised report for further consideration. No money need be spent until the process is complete.

 

In my experience, nothing protects a good idea from becoming reality quite so effectively as a thorough examination of whether it ought to proceed.

 

I have been advised that I am making too much of this. The advice came from a senior demon who has recently taken up gardening and now uses the word “lovely” without irony. I have arranged for him to attend a conference on workplace cynicism. It is a three-day event held in a windowless room.

 

In the meantime, I urge Wingham to remain calm, keep civic pride within reasonable limits and resist any temptation to gather around a bronze Betty White and enjoy one another’s company. I have seen where that sort of thing leads, and the paperwork is appalling. Until next time, statuae nega!