Debates of Jan. 20th, 1994

Speech From The Throne

[Nelson Riis, NDP, Kamloops, BC]

Mr. Speaker, I rise on a point of order. I know we are going to vote now on a motion to put a cap on government spending. I recall that on June 18, 1992 we gave royal assent to Bill C-56 which placed a cap on government spending to the tune of $107 billion for this upcoming year.

My question is, having a statute that already limits government spending to $107 billion, why are we now-

[The Speaker]

Order. I think the hon. member is making a very good point of debate but I am not sure it is a point of order. Of course I would invite the hon. member to include statements such as he was just making in his speech when he gets a chance.

The question is on the amendment to the amendment.

(The House divided on the amendment to the amendment, which was negatived on the following division:)

[The Speaker]

I declare the amendment to the amendment negatived.

[Elwin Hermanson, Reform, Kindersley—Lloydminster, SK]

Mr. Speaker, I rise on a point of order. On behalf of the members present I would like to thank Mr. Bill Corbett and his son for recognizing each member flawlessly during this first recorded vote.

[Some hon. members]

Hear, hear.

[The Speaker]

I taught him well.

It being 6.24 o'clock p.m., this House stands adjourned to the call of the Chair.

(The House adjourned at 6.24 p.m.)

We are here to bid farewell to the Honourable Steven Eugene Paproski. A loving and loved husband to Betty. A proud and cherished father to Patrick, Peter, Anna, Alexandra and Elizabeth. Adored Grandfather to Steven, Colin, and Kathleen.

Let me begin by paying tribute to Steve as a distinguished parliamentarian, whose devotion to that institution made him admired and, yes, loved on all sides of the House.

For it was in the House of Commons that Steve and I became close friends, literally, as seat mates. At that time, he was the Chief Whip and I was involved in the House Leader's business. Our responsibilities meant that we were sitting together in the Commons from morning until night. We got to know each other very well.

One of the stories he and I enjoyed was about the new Member of Parliament, thrilled to be elected, who took his seat in the House for the first time. He exclaimed, "What an honour it is to be able to sit just two swords-lengths across the aisle from my political enemies and to deal with them face to face". A veteran parliamentarian was quick to set him straight. "Son", he said, "those M.P.s sitting across from you aren't your enemies. They are your political adversaries. Your enemies are sitting all around you".

But while Steve used to enjoy that story, it was a story that did not apply to him. He was one of the few parliamentarians, one of the few people I know, devoid of enemies. His infectious enthusiasm, his innate kindness, the total lack of envy in his character, were all irresistible.

Steve was what I like to think of as a true millionaire. He had a million dollar smile, a million dollar voice. Who here cannot picture in their mind's eye, and hear, Steve singing Hello Dolly? He also had a million friends and certainly performed a million good deeds.

There are very few people who knew Steve who weren't the beneficiaries of his kindness and generosity. I know I have witnessed countless examples, towards his family, friends, and even total strangers.

I remember a trip Gerda and I shared with Steve and Betty, to Bulgaria, during the dark days of communism. The giving on that trip began with the sharing of food with the hotel staff and kept on until Steve had given away his shirts and clothes, everything except the clothes he needed to travel home in.

I do not have enough time to tell you of the countless personal examples of his generosity and kindness to me. What I especially remember is the coldest day of February 1989. I was lying in bed in St. Paul's Hospital in Saskatoon. In walked Steve, with two of his pals, Jim Hole and Justice Howard Irving. He had talked them into flying a small private plane from Edmonton in icy cold minus 40 degree freezing temperatures. Steve thought I might need cheering up. That's the kind of guy Steve was.

And that's the kind of guy Steve has always been. He has always contributed, enormously, throughout his life. He was proud of his father and used to show visitors his father's shoemaker's shop on Jasper Avenue in Edmonton. Steve's dad died when he was sixteen. Steve helped enormously with the raising of his three younger brothers, and their schooling.

Steve's famed football career took off when he won an athletic scholarship to the University of Arizona. Many Canadians remember the five years he played with the Edmonton Eskimos. What they might not know about is his wrestling career. Steve needed to augment his meagre university income but he couldn't jeopardize his amateur athletic status and his scholarship. Picture, if you will, Steve donning a mask to wrestle professionally, incognito or so he believed. His opponent was his pal Killer Gene Kiniski. One day Steve would win and, if you can believe the coincidence, the next day Gene Kiniski would win. Together, for tag team matches, they were the Masked Marvels. What a great start for a political career!

Steve often measured, with pride, the distance he had travelled from his birth in Poland to his role as a member of Parliament, a Minister of the Crown and as Deputy Speaker of the House of Commons.

As a Member of Parliament, he was unswerving in his commitment to the concerns of his constituents. Not surprisingly, the people of his Edmonton riding were as unswerving in their support of him, a support that lasted a remarkable twenty-five years.

In Cabinet he served all Canadians. His deep love of and pride in his country came from his appreciation of the opportunities it had held out to him, and to the family he and Betty created.

And, of course, it was his family which sustained him. He adored Betty, his five children, and his grandchildren and gained energy from their shared love. As much as he was the bright light in Betty's life, she was the star in his. Together, they were warm, generous, loving and giving people, and it was clear from the moment you saw them why they had chosen to spend their lives together.

Gerda and I remember well a trip we shared with Steve and Betty to Mexico. That year Betty was celebrating her 50th birthday. That trip became Betty's birthday party, the whole ten days. Steve had arranged a birthday party, with gifts, every day of that trip for her.

Many of you may know that Steve was a deeply religious man. He and Betty have been faithful church-goers and faithful believers. His faith was part of his life, and sometimes became part of mine. I am sure that Steve knew, on a first name basis, every bishop and cardinal in the church.

I remember one occasion during an annual meeting of the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops in Ottawa. A hot, humid summer day sitting around Steve's pool, Lincoln Alexander, a Baptist, and me, a Greek Orthodox, seated between Emmett Cardinal Carter and Cardinal Flahiff, and in the company of about twenty other bishops in shirtsleeves, debating moral and political issues over martinis. Steve, of course, was at the bar-b-que broiling up steaks.

If connections in the Church have any influence on where Steve is right now, there's no question he's right at the top.

Steve died in the midst of life. We all assumed that he would have been with us for many years to come. But now, even as we mourn his passing, we give thanks for him, and for the happiness he brought into all our lives.

To Betty, and to all of you: His children. His grandchildren. His brothers and in-laws. And to his many friends-among whom Gerda and I have always been proud to count ourselves-I speak from the heart, and on behalf of all Canadians, when I extend our deepest sympathies to you.

May this holy season, with its message of renewed hope and love, prove a comfort to you in this time of loss.