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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1981-09-10, Page 4lames Established 1673 Advscot• Essob6shed 1 BB t ' wwx te�e►4�S' °. r self Times -Advocate ,‘, SERVING ANADA'S BEST FARMLAND C W N A OW N.A CLASS 'A' AND ABC MEMBER ONTARIO PRESS COUNCIL by I W. Eedy Publications Limited ORNE EEDY, PUBLISHER Editor — Bill Batten tont Editor — Ross Hough tising Manager — Jim Beckett mposition Manager -- Harry DeVries Business Manager — Dick Jongkind Phone 235.1331 B.`E BBON A..ARD Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386 SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada 517.00 Per Year; USA $35.00 • BLUE RIBBON APO 1171:1:11.49M • 9410111! There are times when the conse- quences of the end result, regardless of how grave they may be, are viewed in the form of relief by those who may have agonized through the trials and tribulations of getting to that conclu- sion. Even convicted killers have ex- pressed relief at finally going to their death after suffering through the pain of appeals. stays -of -execution, etc. Canadian' consumers can probably empathize with that feeling as it appears to be extremely pronounced in the situation surrounding the energy agreement reached last week by the federal government and Alberta. For months, the economy of the na- tion suffered severely due to the im- passe in negotiations. Everyone heaved a sign of relief when the signing finally took place and there was joy and jubila- tion throughout the land. However, unlike those who have fallen through trap doors with a rope around their neck, Canadians have now had time to assess the final result and can be excused if they wonder if the cure has been all that advantageous. The price of peace has come extremely high. Predictions are that in five years, Canadians will be paying up to $4.00 per gallon for gasoline and home oil heating costs will also rocket out of sight. Natural gas prices will more than dou- ble. Those who have heralded the agreement as being beneficial in that Canadians will now know how much they are going to pay for energy over the next five years are about as reassuring as the hangman telling his hooded visitor he'll meet his demise through a broken neck. Many Canadians will meet their economic demise through the new energy package, and with the exception of Alberta, we'll all have to put energy Conservation as number one priority. The federal Department of Justice has served warning that it's now seek- ing jail sentences for those convicted of income tax evasion. We say good idea and it's about time. That may not be a popular stand. Cheating on your income tax in some circles is a game. Friends regale each other with tales of how they un- derestimated income and padded ex- pense accounts. We've heard stories of professional people who've bragged about cheating the government out of enough funds to put a down payment on a cottage or buy a boat. Cheating on your income tax is seen by those who don't look too clearly as a victimless crime. White collar crime is seen as a little tricky but not really harmful. We all hate to see that big cut in the pay cheque going to the government: we all resent paying out hard earned cash in income tax. But every dollar that some evader takes out of government coffers must be replaced by honest taxpayers. They include the wage earners who get their taxes deducted from each week's pay and have little chance for write offs and expense deductions and none at all for fudging the figures a bit. The rest of us pay when our fellow citizens evade taxes. And letting the offenders off lightly (fines ranging from 25 to 200 per cent of the tax in- volved have been common) breeds resentment among those who pay their share and promotes the idea that tax evasion isn't really a serious crime. We all have beefs with our govern- ment from time to time. There's an ele- ment of "getting back" or "keeping money that'll only be spent wastefully anyway" in the impulse to cheat the tax department. We can get involved in the political process in an attempt to make changes or stop waste. Cheating on income tax hurts the rest of us. Besides, it is against the law. The Feds are right to back that law with jail terms. The Huron Expositor Moving house no easier than moving furniture It was one year ago that the writer outlined the pitfalls of moving, just having completed lugging furniture into the 23rd address which I called home over a short life span. Moving, as it was pointed out, is fill- ed with problems and headaches, to say nothing of aching muscles and frayed nerves as one's valuables are lugged up and down flights of stairs and around corners that are just half an inch too narrow. t,r This spring. 1 came up with a brilliant idea to end the almost annual haul. I bought a mobile home! Well, it wasn't quite mobile at the time of purchase. but it did hit the road, last week and arrived at its destination un• • scathed. - r The purchase was a log htse (shark; i �1 if you believe some frie s ties tion ► that was located aldelhe.river bank at Manore Marine in Grand Bend. The availability of the structure came to light in our weekly staff meeting when Mary Alderson let it be known she was going to do a story on Dick Manore's efforts to get rid of his un- wanted facility tomakeroom for more boat parking. Q, My ears gently pricked, having been ' a log house enthusiast for some time, and I really sat up and took notice when she advised that Dick was not actually looking for a buyer, but only wanted to give it to someone to take it away. A visit to the site was arranged prior to Mary's story hitting the street (there are somebenefitsin this job at times) and I decided to take advantage of the steal and became the owner of a 120 year-old log house. As it turned out, that was the easiest part of the entire dream, and there were many times in the ensuing months that it appeared to be better described as a nightmare. With an intended site some 30 miles away from the Grand Bend location, the first problem to solve was how to get it from point A to point B. There are two methods of moving log houses. Due to their dove -tailed construction, they can be disassembled and moved log -by - log. The second method is to tear off the roof and move the balance intact. 1 chose the latter, primarily in an attempt to save the two pine floors in the structure, fearing they would be totally destroyed if they had to be ripped up. Incidental to that decision, was the knowledge that logs are heavy and my back is not accustomed to -.timoving such weights from atop high "plates. ,One house mover was contacted and mid he could handle the job, but'unfor- tunately the price tag was a little steep. Shopping further afield, I came up with the name of Les Steele, a trucker from Newbury who specializes in moving buildings and just about anything else you want transported. There is only one problem with Les Steele., He's never home. And, when he is home: he doesn't have time to return calls. My telephone bill reached astronomical proportions, but I finally perservered and arrangements were made to have the house moved at a most reasonable price. The next problem, is trying to get Les Steele to tell you when he's going to move something. Again, the spiralling telephone bill, until he finally arrived to view the intended location and set August 27 as moving day. Did the stone gates at the new site bother Les? No! "We'll just take it across the river," he said, looking at the nearby Medway Creek. He attempted to provide some reassurance to his startled customer by noting he had taken one such load across a river that had three feet of water and there was, after all, only a mere trickle in the creek. Oh well, I thought, it would make good fire wood as it toppled off the truck while crashing about through the pasture field and up and down the em- bankment to the creek. Part ofthe dealwith house movers, is that they insist the customer get the necessary permits to facilitate such a move. Easy enough eh? You're wrong again! Moving through two counties (We didn't count Lambton), two OPP detachment areas, two Ontario Hydro areas. four railway tracks and one con- cession road makes crossing Medway Creek a cake -walk. If you don't know what red tape is, I'll clue you in. It's almost necessary to hire another house mover just to carry all the paper -work required for transporting a large object on the roadway. Oddly enough, all the requirements for permits differ. If the object is over 12' high, Huron County requires that you notify Ontario Hydro and the other utility companies that may have something strung up overhead. In Middlesex, the requirement is that Hydro is to be notified if the structure is over 13'. The ministry of transporta- tion say 13'6". What does Ontario Hydro say? Ac- cording to the chap I called, it wasn't necessary to get them involved as long as the height of the Toad was going to be under 14'6". Some people can tell horror stories about dealing with civil servants, but actually I ran into only a couple of stumbling blocks. The chap in the Stratford MTC office was most oblig- ing. He offered to type out the permit to save some time, but this wasn't deem- ed necessary as the mail was moving and the application had been received well in advance of the planned moving day. uron County road engineer Bob Dempster was equally obliging. A per- mit from Huron is also one of the few remaining freebies available in society to get a signature on a permit from some official. The Middlesex County road people were a little upset that I was a day or two over their requirement for giving them 10 days notice of the move. When they were informed the police had already been notified, they readily signed the permit, even to the point of making a call to my home to get some information they had failed to garner. However. the most disarming aspect of all the permits was that each noted the permit could be withdrawn at any time. Now. that really makes you feel com- fortable. What do you do with a log house enroute to a prepared foundation if someone decides you have to abandon the entire scheme? Even sleeping pills don't help! As the moving date quickly ap- proached. the writer and number 2 son Steven. proceeded to undertake the task of removing the plastered ceiling and roof of the log house. As the plaster and lathe cascaded to the floor, the choking dust soon sent us reeling to the nearest window for a gasp of fresh air and there was no more welcome sight: Please turn to page 5 Odds are that you've never heard of Carsonville. I never had either until a few days ago We were travelling to Frankenrnuth. Michigan to enjoy one of that place's famous chicken dinners. Just as we came into the limits of ('arsonville. a little village along the way, we saw the bright red coats of a marching hand lining up in front of the local high school. At the four corners people were lining up in and around a trailer which had been set up as a reviewing stand. Already on the road for over an hour it didn't take much persuasion to make me stop for a breathing space I'm a sucker for parades anyway.. Standing there waiting we tried to figure out the occa- sion As far as we knew it wasn't a national holiday nor was it obviously a sidewalk sale or a fair as there were not special booths set up in front of the few stores. A police car came first and then an honour guard made up of Veterans of the Foreign Wars. proudly bear- ing their flags. On came the marching hand. one hundred strong. very impressive even thought the big bass drum had a long -patch across it where somebody had belted it too hard. Then came a little old an- tique Fordand sitting in its hack seat a dignified little old lady wearing a big cor- sage. Fier chauffeur stopped in front of the reviewing stand and the hand stopped directly in front of her. "This tune's especially for you. Pearl." the announcer said as the crowd clapped and the hand swung into a lively jazzy tune. On the car -behind Pearl was a sign saying "Nappy Birthday Pearl" and it suddenly dawned on us what the occasion was. Variouspeoplecame out to Pearl's car to shake her hand and offer some flowers. while the rest of the parade. 3 more cars. 3 trac- tors and four horses, waited patiently. Then the hand disappeared down the street. Pearl's car behind it and theannouncer said. "They're just going around the block, folks. They'll he right hack." Sure enough. the flags and the band soon reappeared for a second pass-through, Pearl still waving graciously to all and sundry. Say. 1 just hope that when I get to he a ripe old age that I get a parade for my birthday too. Wife bears up under strain very well Last week I was whining about what a bum summer I'd been having. I shouldn't have. My wrenched elbow cleared up and I was able to play some golf. With my putter. If I tried to swing with any other club, it was just like having a hot poker rammed through my elbow. But my wife bore up under my pain very well. The summer ended with a burst of something or other. If I were a farmer, I might compare it to a plague of locusts. But there were only two of them and they didn't strip my crops. They just ground me to the bone, physically and emotionally. My two grandboys, who are this generation's answer to the perpetual motion machine. From 7 a.m. to about 9 a.m., they're delightful. Whey play with their com- plicated toys, scarcely fight at all, eat a big breakfast and generally are . good little boys. But from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. they want action, novelty, excitement and constant motion. At the centre of this rather resembling a whirling der- vish, is Grandad, whom theyseem to believe is about 18 years old. However, we got through it with nc more than the usual amount of breakage, soilage and personal out- rage. But the old lady and I were so frazzl- ed we didn't even have the strength to embrace on our 35th anniversary, which came along soon after the locusts. Holy old Moly, isn't that a long time to be married to a strange woman? I've never been able to figure out what has kept us together for half a life -time. We are completely opposite in temperament, disagree yiolently and continually. and our tastes in general are almost completely dissimilar. She does everything as though it were the last day of her life and she had to face the Lord or whoever, with everything done. That is, at top speed. By the time I have finished my mor- ning's ablutions, for example, she has made the bed, put on a laundry, vacuumed the living -room, prepared breakfast, and probably done some ironing or cleaned a couple of windows. And then she's sitting there, impatient and even cranky, when I stroll down, pick up the morning paper, drink my tea and behave like a normal citizen. She wants to talk about Life, or our children, or her insomnia, or some other damfool thing. All I want to do is read the paper. I rather enjoy shopping in a super- market. By myself. I never have a list. Just poke around watching the 'weird people, admiring the skill and speed and stamina of the cash register girls, walking past the meat counter shaking my head dolefully, buying some cottage cheese which I invariably forget about until it goes rotten, picking up half a dozen bananas (and discovering we have another half dozen when -I get homes, enjoying a coffee at the coffee counter, where the waitress Is like a robot on speed. Generally, I shop in low gear. 1 buy things we already have or don't need (maybe a can of smoked oysters) and I forget to buy things we are out of, like toilet paper. But it doesn't bother me. I hate shopping with shy wife. She goes at it as though it were the four hundred meter women's Olympic race. Sometimes she has left me three or four aisles behind as I push the cart at a civilized pace. She always has a list as long as your arm in one hand, pencil in the other for crossing things out, glasses on to read the small print, and pocket calculator in her purse to translate the metric system. The last item never proves anything except that whether it's ounces and pounds or litres and milligrams, the cost of food is going up. She plays golf the same way, hitting the ball and rushing after it as though she were going to kill it for not going where it was supposed to, while I wad- dle along. at about two miles an hour, looking at the trees and the clouds and the other idiots whacking their ball into the woods. She even eats fast. I have just got my first cob of corn nicely buttered and salted, and she's well through her seconds cob. She doesn't sleep well because she's • always thinking about tomorrow's race against time, or a wedding present to buy. or her children, or the fact that she might not sleep and will only be able to gallop tomorrow, instead of run- ning flat out. I sleep like a babe. When we're going somewhere, she wants to be ready an hour ahead, so we'll get a good seat, or avoid bad traf- fic, or whatever. Thanks to me, we usually arrive just before the bride, or just before the curtain goes up. Well, that's temperament. She's crazy. I'm normal, or a little below, if you want to get picky. We disagree. Any healthy couple does. But they "talk things out" and reach a consensus that everybody has a right to his her peculiar ideas. We don't. I say flatly, "That's a lot of B.S.". She promptly retorts, "Well, I've been listening to your B.S. for blank years." And away we go, whether it's politics, the economy, religion, or who took the garbage out last week. And as to tastes, we're miles apart. She likes classical music. 1 like blues and ragtime. She doesn't like hunting or fishing or boating. I'm not mad about sewing, and I go a bit glassy -eyed when she starts, and goes on and on about nips and tucks and darts and hems and how to make button holes. I like reading, and have a book on every toilet top, stair landing, counter- top and under every bed, to prove it. She does. too, but she reads stuff I wouldn't touch with a six-foot Pole: Henry James, George Eliot. She's never read Catch-22, the funniest, saddest book of the century. I could go on and on. She likes poker, but doesn't like it when I play poker with the boys, even when I come home limping because my right pocket is full of quarters. I could write a book. How can two people, one nuts and the other eminent- ly sane, reach a 35 anniversary? Some kind of early Krazy Gine, I suspect. Maybe it'll hold for another 28 years. I doubt it. There's five years between us. She looks 38. I look 68. It's a long time to live with a strange women.