© the other press February 25, 2004 Denice Angela Blattmann OP Photographer Name: Andrew Answer: Tetley R Ry oa Name: Allan Answer: NBA Name: Mariko Answer: Starbucks geo ge | Level David Suzuki Canada’s Heart and Stroke Foundation recently warned that “fat is the new tobacco,” a catchy way of saying something that health experts have been warning us about for years— obesity is killing us. These head- lines never fail to make it into the news—“We begin tonight with another disturbing report on obesi- ty..." —so why do we keep getting fatter? According to the Heart and Stroke Foundation, almost half of us are now overweight or obese and just 43 percent of us are phys- ically active. It's not as though there isn’t sufficient information for us tobe concerned. Two recent studies have found that obesity greatly reduces lifespan. One study, published in the Journal of the American Medical Association, examined three decades of data and found that an obese 20-year- old man may see his life cut by as much as 13 years compared to a normal-weight person, while an obese 20-year-old woman may die eight years earlier. Canadian data are just as discouraging—the num- ‘Science Matters ity Can’t.be Solved at the David Suzuki Foundation ber of deaths attributable to obesi- ty has doubled in the past 15 years. Health problems due to obesity can begin at an early age. A study of 3,200 US children last fall found that one in seven children now show early signs of heart dis- ease. Obese adults suffer from increased levels of cardiovascular disease, diabetes, several different types of cancer, and osteoporosis. Research done last fall also found that overweight men suffer from reduced fertility because of DNA fragmentation in their sperm, as well as lower sperm counts. Many health experts have said that increasing obesity rates, par- ticularly in children, represents a health time bomb that could prove extremely costly to society in the near future if not addressed. So whose responsibility is it? According to a Heart and Stroke poll of Canadians, more than 50 percent believe that it is the responsibility of individuals to eat sensibly. But is that realistic? Food companies, like tobacco companies, know that if they can hook young children, they will have customers for life. Many advertisements are targeted specifi- cally at the youth demographic for that purpose, using cartoon char- acters, fantasy themes and efforts to make products appear “cool.” These tactics work, as studies have found that food advertising does influence what children eat. In fact, one in three North American children now eat at a fast food restaurant every single day! Considering the time bomb that many nutritionists say we face, surely governments and the food industry must become more involved. When cash-starved schools have to depend on selling junk food to students to help pay the bills, something is wrong. Not to sound like an old codger, but when I went to school, we didn’t have vending machines to spit out sugary soft drinks. We had water fountains. Today, it’s been reported that some universities are actually removing water fountains to encourage students to buy soft drinks as part of agreements made with soft drink companies. Over the past few decades, we have gradually increased the amount of junk food we eat and decreased the amount of physical exercise we get. By allowing our cities to sprawl outwards, we've increased the amount of time we spend in our cars, and reduced our ability to walk to destinations. A whole drive-through culture has been created to feed this sprawl, adding to the problem and increas- ing accessibility to junk food. The Heart and Stroke Foundation clearly recognizes this problem, as its list of recommenda- tions includes the need for more government involvement—includ- ing better urban planning. Like it or not, the way our cities are designed influences what we eat. Toronto took an important step forward by banning drive- throughs, a bylaw that was recent- ly upheld in court. Government action is clearly needed to help reduce obesity, because it’s a socie- tal issue, and we aren't managing it on our own. Take the Nature Challenge and learn more at . Kicking Down the Door Brandon Ferguson OP Contributor He wore black corduroys that climbed halfway up his skinny back, with a bent black comb stick- ing out of his back pocket, and he had a habit of spitting when he talked. He spat something my way that sounded like, “Hey, hey, ho ho—something, something’s not the truth. Hey, hey, ho, ho—let’s kick out Campbell, the fucking goof!” It matched my beat perfect- ly, and was therefore as perfect as if it had been Shakespeare. He emphasized his slogan with a swift, skinny-armed motion, retrieving his comb from his back pocket, and relieving his Fonzarelli, post- 50s hair of its sweat. He spat while doing this. The man, Fuzzy Dan we'll call him, was one of many interesting people I saw. People I shouted with, people I marched with, peo- ple I danced with. Which, I have to admit, was a first for me. I think I'm pretty cool with most things that a hip, hippie-kid should be cool with. I know things, I speak my mind on the issues—I’m hip eee Page 8 _http://www.otherpress.ca like that. But this was different. This was new. The sun shone bright in all the right places on this day of march- ing. As we reached Highway 99, which was officially far enough away from school to care about missing a pretty decent day of classes, the sun shone bright upon us. As we rounded the final bend of the “intellectual property, not gov- ernment commodity” protest, traf- fic stood still for the masses to move by, while students stood— united with angry alumni, college- not-quite’s, and hungry-never- tried’s alike. And then, as the dispersing masses mingled and tingled away, and the bongo drums that refused to cease, or even slow for nearly two hours, finally tried on their somber evening wear with a negli- gee, samba number—I wrote these reflections. The sun shone bright against the right side of my face— my good side? I don’t know, but right then it felt like the good one. (The sun, in fact, was reflecting off the windows of a high rise, so if that’s not conflicting imagery, I don't know what is.) But what is this but a symptom of a myopic, self-involved youth, more concerned with his own thoughts than the money it is cost- ing to form them. While the drums were beating, and before the masses were dwindling, there was fire in my belly and red in my eye. We marched with purpose—the purpose was to unite. We marched to the drums’ instruction, and for the camera’s delight. We marched to mourn the destruction of our education, our Premier's igno- rance, and more importantly, just to prove that we could. Think of the message we were sending to Capitol Hill, think of the trashy talk shows we were missing at home. Maybe more than an actual movement, we simply just moved. Hot from the crowd, I stripped off my layers of Gap as the masses began marching to fill the street voids. Having showed up late for the speeches, but early enough for the march, I was conveniently pushed to the front of the pack (perhaps “Leader of the Pack” was piping through the speakers in an office somewhere high up above). Taking on leadership roles, while taking off cheaply made clothes, my friend (a certain hippie, sports writer) and I began urging giggly girls and boys to do more than merely walk. We yelled slogans for the real people, we shouted insults at imaginary leaders—we “whoo- ed” like Ric Flair, and we danced like Fred Astaire. Maybe it was the moment, or maybe it was the movement, but something more potent than pot was making me feel high down below. Standing with my buddy, sepa- rated from my buddy, lost amongst strangers, and surrounded by peers—we all pushed the throng along the long, sad song way, with shouts of protest, and chants of change rising high up to the office windows. Our chants were met by bemused yuppies smirking from cubicles filled with Troll dolls, roll continued on page 9