HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1978-12-07, Page 4Times-Advocate, December 7, 1978
You tell them
(tis the season to be jolly...!
But tell that to the thousands of
Vietnamese refugees sailing aimlessly
about in their overcrowded, flimsy
boats looking for a place to land and
start a new life away from the terrors
and inhumanities of their Communist
leaders.
Tell it to the mothers on those
boats who watch their children die of
starvation or disease while political
leaders of other countries turn a deaf
ear on their pleas for assistance.
Tell it to the fathers on those boats
who could provide their families with
more nourishment and bounty than
they could ever imagine just by getting
the scraps from the tables of most
Canadians.
Tell them that the millions we
spend annually on dog food would feed
thousands of them; that the billions we
waste on alcohol and tobacco would
clotheand house them; that the defence
budgets of the world’s great nations
could keep them in luxury.
Tell them we’re not com
placent...it’s just that this is the season
to be jolly.
Courtesy imperative
During more than twenty years of
existence as a regular safety cam
paign, Safe Driving Week has had
many varied themes, but 1978 is the
first time the focus has been placed on
“Courtesy”, and the slogan adopted by
the Canada Safety Council is “Courtesy
is Caring”.
Drivers will readily see the con
nection: a courteous driver is a safe
driver.
As a part of this year’s traffic safe
ty campaign, the Safety Council is ask
ing every driver to take an extra se
cond or two to be courteous to others.
Besides helping to avoid accidents,
according to Council Traffic Section
Manager, George Currie, the courtesy
campaign has another very beneficial
result for those who observe it: it
makes the courteous driver feel good!
The Council suggests each driver
try this experiment:
Leave five minutes earlier for
work or appointment if there is con
cern about time-keeping, although in
all probability it will be found un
necessary. Practice courtesy. Wave
another driver out of a driveway or in
tersection. Wait for someone to make a
left turn from the opposite direction.
Give people a chance to cross the road
if there is no crossing or lights. Smile
at people.
Results will be startling. Friendly
smiles and waves in return, and drivers
who receive a courtesy often pass it
along to someone else. If a whole town
or city tries it, the results should be
fantastic, and accidents will be less.
“Ahem, back here! You're looking at the wrong house!
n •> . •with the editor
to’
At least the moose enjoy it
Keep 'em dean
Although it appears that way, we
can assure you there is no conspiracy
by the Clinton merchants to try and
drive business out of town.
One of many examples this week,
for instance, may have shoppers con
vinced that the merchants were indeed
trying to tell the 9,000 people in our
trading area to do their Christmas
shopping elsewhere, and that is the
deplorable condition of our sidewalks
on main street after the first snowfall.
It seems that only a few of our
most conscientious merchants have
heard of a snow shovel and salt, while
the rest leave their storefronts more
conducive to skating than walking.
But, there are heated malls near
by, and other towns where the
merchants are interested in the money
we have to spend, so people will still
have somewhere to shop. Pity.
Clinton News-Record
1 tllllK small
Losing Both Ways
Perspectives
The houseboat trip seemed
like a terrific idea.
I had read about it in the
paper. Rent a boat for a
week and cruise along the
Trent canal system for the
most peaceful week ever.
The boat owner took our
money and then took us out
for a brief spin out onto the
lake and back. “Nothing to
it,” he assured us.
The boat was thirty-two
feet long, about twelve feet
wide, and weighed about
fourteen tons. On it our crew
consisted of a very nervous
mother-in-law, four other
adults, all inexperienced,
and two excited kids, one two
years old and the other
seven.
As the owner said, there
was really nothing to it. We
breezed across the first
lake, the sun shining and the
breezes blowing in our faces
feeling very much like
Columbus as we sighted the
first lock.
I was out on the front and
my brother-in-law was the
pilot.
“Quite a little bit of wind,”
I hollered back to him.
“Keep to the right.”
He didn’t hear me. Maybe
I should have said “to the
starboard’.
Crunch)!
We hit the cement abut
ment. There was now a hole
about the size of a small
cabbage in the side of the
boat, about a foot above the
waterline.
Bravely we went onward to
the next lock. I decided that I
would pilot it in this time. To
my dimay both sides of the
lock entry had nice white
yachts tied up along it and
the space to go between
looked smaller than my
garage door at home.
In a panic I decided to do
nothing. I put the boat into
neutral, feeling that
treacherous wind push us
toward the shiny sides of a
cruiser, its owner dressed in
spotless bermuda shorts,
saying quite rude things to us
as he pushed us away with
his boathook.
The lock master rushed
over and escorted us per
sonally into the lock and for
some strange reason there
was someone to greet us at
each of the next three locks.
By the next day though we
felt more confident. Our
strategy now was to ap
proach the lock with great
care, tie up, then walk up to
it and survey the area before
entering.
On one such occasion I
heard the lockmaster sud
denly yell, “Don’t touch
that!” and looked around to
see the seven-year old
playing with some dials.
These turned out to be the
controls for the large fire
extinguishers which floods
the lock with carbon dioxide
foam in case of an explosion.
As we entered the locks
now we had developed quite
a, communication system,
with me standing master
fully at the front ready to
grab one of the rubber tie-up
ropes.
“Not this one,” I’d yell at
my mother-in-law, who
would be standing
strategically at midship,
inside of course.
“Not this one!’’ she’d
holler to my wife and
sister-in-law, standing at the
back of the boat, futilely
reaching for a rope we’d
already passed and suc
ceeding only in cleaning off
some of the slime from the
concrete walls with their T-
shirts.
“This one!” I’d say and
watch disgustedly as the
distance between boat and
wall widened.
Amazingly enough, no one
fell overboard, well almost
no one.
At Peterborough we pulled
up to the swank Holiday Inn
waterfront then realized it
was just a private dock. I
jumped on land with the rope
only to have my brother-in-
law take off suddenly. Madly
I leaped for the rail.
Drenched to the waist I
listened to my relatives yell
“Man overboard!”, and then
crack up as I dragged myself
over the side.
Ah, me for the life of a
sailor.
This is the season when highways
takeonaneven greater challenge as
winter sends along a nasty coat of ice
or snow to test drivers, many of whom
have trouble enough when the pave
ment is dry and bare.
It is also the time of year when the
salt trucks take to the roads, their
product usually ending up under your
fenders rather than achieving the task
for which it was intended.
However, lest you think those salt
trucks are useless, take cheer, their ef
forts are appreciated by some
members of our society.
Officials have noticed that in some
areas, particularly in the north, moose
and other game animals have dis
covered a new salt lick...the residue of
the winter’s salting. Frequent
sightings have been made of the
animals licking up the treat.
So next time you look at the rusty
fenders on your car, remember that*
salt side-effects aren’t all necessarily
detrimental.
Body shop owners
either!
those, is in regard to automatic bank
alarms.
Exeter residents have certainly
become immune to the periodic clang
ing of the bell at the local Bank of Mon
treal office. While we used to grab our
camera and dash out the door to catch
a fleeting shot of masked bandits mak
ing their getaway, we now go about our
regular tasks without another thought
when the alarm sounds.
No doubt that may have been the
situation recently in a small town in
Michigan, where the police received
the automatic alarm signal indicating
that the local bank was being robbed.
Instead of responding instantly, an
don’t mind it
*
told about the
♦ *
Everyone has been
story of the little boy who cried wolf
and it certainly has many connotations
in modern society. Not the least of
/k
decade. The 70s are nearing history.
While it’s the time of year some peo
ple prefer to look back, others get
more enjoyment out of looking into the
future and they’ll be interested in a re
cent survey taken by the McGraw Hill
Company.
They have taken a survey of several
hundred industrial firms and research
organizations, asking them for predic
tions as to what the future holds for
society.
______ _ „„ Findings of the latest poll have been
officer was instructed to telephone the released, and we are told that by the
• .............................. • • qnd of this century we will have drugs
that will raise our IQs by several
points. We will also be able to shed
weight painlessly and will even be able
to control the sex of unborn children.
By the year 2000, the study goes on,
there will be a cure for cancer, life ex
pectancy at birth will be 100 years, ar
tificial eyesight will be available for
the blind, new limbs will be grown ar
tificially, electrical impulses will heal
bone fractures and there will be a sub
stitute for blood.
But one wag has made another
prediction: bet you still won’t be able
to open a bandaid without the red
thread coming loose in your hand.
bankand see just what was going on.
Ohe’ of the robbers answered the
phone, explained that it was all a false
alarm and apologized for the in
convenience. The police called off the
chase and the thieves escaped with
about $4,000.
* * *
Unless you’ve fallen badly behind in
your schedule, you’re now looking at
the final sheet on the 1978 calendar,
and joining others in wondering where
the time has gone.
What may be of even greater con
sternation is the fact that we’ll soon be
looking at the final year of the current
■ar and Spice
sed by Smiley
Nothing to titillate the senses
dvocate
* Nor* Lio*tin Stacv
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Amalgamated 1924
Published Each Thursday Morning
at Exeter, Ontario
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Chap wants to do a television stortie
about me. I hae me doots about agree
ing. I have deep suspicions about that
particular medium, and a very low
regard for the vast majority engaged
in its machinations.
First of all, TV is one of the most
pernicious influences on the im
aginations and vocabularies of the
young, to whom I am trying to teach
the subtleties and beauties and
clarities of the English language.
There is almost nothing to stretch
the mind, to titillate the senses, to im
prove the language. Most television
drama is one-dimensional. It’s laid out
flatly before you. The language is
brutalized. Suspense is childish. Acting
is insensitive,
And if, once in a blue moon, there is
an intelligent, suspenseful, sensitive
and imaginative piece of work on the
screen, the mood is constantly
shattered by noisy beer ads, or dis
tasteful commercials about ring
around the collar or underarm
deodorant.
It’s a pity. Television, in the right
hands, could become the most war
ming, enlightening, enlarging ex
perience in the lives of many people,
aside from their personal experience
wijih^ther human beings.
BuHo per cent of it is garbage, aim
ed at the intelligence of a slow six-
year-old. The tinny, artificial
“applause.” The ever-increasing sex
ual innuendo. The constant shouting of
so-called comedians. The dull and
derivative dance routines. The blatting
and snarling of rock groups. And
perhaps worst of all, those insane,
greedy game shows. It is literal fact
that I can scarce refrain from throwing
up when I come across one of those,
with the bellowing master of
ceremonies, the fawning contestants,
and the idiotic audiences.
You know, when television began, it
had a good many flaws,’butmostoftnem
were technical. At the same time it had
a vitality and reality that swept all
before them.
Drama was done live, and we had
such great plays as Paddy Chayefsky’s
Marty. Compare that reality and
pathos with the slobbering, sugar-
encrusted stuff like The Waltons. Com
pare shouting, leering Laverne and
Shirley, or the late unlamented Maude
with the great comics of the early
days: Art Carney and Jackie Gleason,
Sid Ceasar and Imogene Coca. You
can’t. There is no comparison.
Perhaps it’s because the big poobahs
of television have treated their
massive audiences with more con
tempt than any other medium has ever
done, including the Hollywood of the
big studios.
And those appearing bn television
respond like fawning puppets. Hockey
players get into needless fights so that
they can display the big macho on the
screen. Football players don’t just
score a touchdown any more, and leave
it at that. They do a dance, or they
bounce the ball hard off the ground and
run around with their arms up in self
congratulation.
Learned and intelligent professors
allow themselves to be made ridiculous
by rhetorical questions from ignorant
interviewers. Politicians allow
themselves to be chivvied by churlish
reporters, just to get their images on
the boob tube.
Talented people in show business will
appear on the screen with an ape or an
alligator, and allow themselves to be
insulted by a late-night-show MC, just
to get in the picture.
Only very occasionally does someone
with great powers of articulation ahd a
certain inborn arrogance, someone like
Malcolm Muggeridge, manage to
break through the banality of the
typical television interviewer. Only
rarely does an interviewer, someone
like Patrick Watson, break through the
carefully guarded porridge of the inter
viewee,
With very few exceptions does a
news reporter depart from a delivery
as monotonous as a metronome. The
National, Canada’s 11 o’clock news,
11:30 in Newfie, is about as exciting as
a funeral service. We had smarmy
Lloyd Robertson with the oiled tonsils,
reading the news as though it were the
phone book. Then we had contemp
tuous Peter Kent, who gave the im
pression that he was doing us a favor.
These days we have dull old solid,
stolid George MacLean, who delivers
the news as though it were aWarmed-
over pot-roast. Which it is, on most oc
casions.
In short, TV is dull, dull, dull. I have
great sympathy for two groups in our
society. One is the oldsters and shut-
ins, who have so little left in their lives,
and rely on television for a diversion,
something to take the mind away from
the aches and pains and the loneliness.
What they get is a combination of the
utmost pap and crap that only a sadist
could devise: cheap, ancient, Grade C
movies; soap operas; sickening game
shows.
And the other group that gets my
sympathy is young children. With a few
exceptions, such as Sesame Street, all
they have to watch is pictorial
pabluni, great, uplifting epics like The
Flintstones, or violent and bloody
movies. What a pity, when the medium
could educate their minds, stir their
senses with color and music, and send
their imaginations soaring.
Andy Warhol, a New York pop artist,
said everyone eventually will be a
celebrity for fifteen minutes.
If that’s the case, include me out.
The TV chap told me it would take only
two hours of my time to make a two-
minute epic about me and my column.
I have no particular desire to look like
a turkey for two minutes and spend the
next two days feeling like one.
Several decades ago, a mar
vellous new chemical was in
troduced to destroy plant
eating insects, a scourge of na
ture. Unfortunately, however,
it turned out to have a couple
of unexpected flaws. For one,
the insects built up resistance
to the chemical. For another,
the chemical killed animals as
well as insects. So we no longer
use DDT.
During World War II, an
incredible new vaccine was dis
covered to cure everything
from the common cold to V.D.
Unfortunately, the ultimate
result was a new strain of peni
cillin-resistant germs.
Once upon a time, we used
lead as a base in paints, alumi
num wiring and a drug called
Thalidomide. Now we don’t.
The point? Sometimes sci
ence really doesn’t have much
freedom in devising cures. The
cost of one cure may be a brand
new disease.
The same restrictions apply
to government economic poli
cies. One useful case in point:
the Bank of Canada’s insis
tence on raising interest rates
to protect the Canadian dol
lar and maintain a semblance
of health in our international
capital balances.
Raising the Bank Rate -
which results in correspond
ingly higher rates within the
commercial banking system -
lures foreign investment funds
into the country, taking some
of the downward pressure off
the dollar and compensating,
in part, for the billions of dol
lars which leave this country
every year.
But saving the dollar and
improving the international
capital balance through ad
justments in interest rates are
only accomplished at disturb
ingly high cost in another area.
Business expansion is slowed
and unemployment rises.
The pressure on business
is a two-pronged attack. First,
business finds that investment
in new capital equipment or
factories costs more, so invest
ment plans are shelved. Then
customers discover that their
own finance costs are higher,
so they cut back on purchases;
faced with declining demand,
businesses that can afford to
expand decide that they no
longer have a market gap to
fill.
Many industries - such as
construction and heavy equip
ment - depend on constant
business expansion. Postpone
ment of business expansion
(because of the impact of higher
interest rates) creates unem
ployment in these industries.
And that, in turn, will cause
unemployment in other indus
tries. Full recovery can re
quire years of corrective eco
nomic measures..
We’ve been caught in this
sort of bind before. Remem
ber the mixed blessing of in
secticides. The Bank of Ca
nada’s economic policy is the
DDT of modern economics.
We could be paying for the
Bank’s actions a long, long time.
"Think small" is an editorial
message from the Canadian
Federation of Independent
Business s
r.... .............................................. . ......
J memorylc
55 Years Ago
Mr. W.F. Abbott attended
the 'Bee-Keeper’s Associa
tion meeting at Toronto
Wednesday and Thursday of
last week.
Warden B.W.F. Beavers
was presented with a gold-
headed cane at the
December session of the
Huron County council.
L.O.L. 924 has elected and
installed officers for the
following year as follows:
W.M., G. Davis; D.M.,
Howard Dignan, P.M., W.
Lutman; recording
secretary, G. MacDonald;
financial secretary J.
Bradt; treasurer; James
Brintnell; chaplain, Rev.
James Foote; first com
mittee, W. Elliott.
Mrs. Elmo H. Howey has
been successful in passing
the junior examinations held
at the Ontario College of
Pharmacy, Toronto.
Mr. Charlie Coward who
has been in the west for
some time, arrived home
last week.
30 Years Ago
Leavitt’s Theatre will
donate the entire gross
proceeds from the Monday
and Tuesday showings of
“The Black Arrow” to the
Exeter Hospital Fund spon
sored by the Exeter Lions.
The night classes spon
sored by the Department of
Agriculture and held in the
Exeter District High School
each Thursday are growing
in interest with 70 in atten
dance last week.
On Wednesday, Rev.
George Lamont, a son-in-
law of Mr. and Mrs. Harry
Strang, of town, was in
ducted into the pastorate of
Knox Presbyterian Church,
Mitchell.
The county of Huron has
purchased the antique dis
play of Mr. Neill of Gorrie.
This is the largest display of
antiques in Ontario. It will
be placed somewhere in the
county.
Mr. and Mrs. Russell
Broderick, Joyce and Jerry
left last week to spend the
winter in Arizona.
20 Years Ago
Football teams at the
J.A.D. McCurdy School,
RCAF Station Centralia
staged their own Grey Cup
battle recently, completed
with cheerleaders -and ma
jorettes. Sale of candy at the
game raised $30 which was
donated to the Springhill
Disaster fund.
A head-on collision about
one mile south of Exeter on
No. 4 Highway early Satur
day killed four airmen and
injured four others and was
the worst in the district’s
history.
First prize in the T-A’s
public school essay contest
on “My Christmas Wish”
goes to Helen Cole of Exeter
Public School who would
like to have a wonderful par
ty for orphans.
First prize of $25 was
awarded to Dinney Fur
niture for the best decorated
store window for Christmas
sponsored by the Exeter
Businessmen’s Association.
15 Years Ago
The new transformer sta
tion being erected near Cen
tralia by Ontario Hydro’s
western region will provide
a capacity of three times the
present need and will cost
$550,000, It is expected to be
in service by October 1964.
Dashwood Industries will
soon open its second plant at
Mt. Brydges and .plans to
build a third one to be in
production before 1964,
Three of the key men plan
ning the major expansion
program are Sales Manager
Jim Finnen, Vice-president
Howard Klumpp and Presi
dent Maurice Klumpp.
Slightly over 22 inches of
snow has fallen on the area
in the last five days. The
biggest single fall was on
Sunday when 11,7 inches fell,
most of it in a seven hour
stretch. An Exeter man at
RCAF Station Centralia suf
fered a heart attack shovell
ing snow and died the samb
day.
Saturday, December 16