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Times-Advocate, 1981-10-21, Page 4I I Page 4 Times -Advocate, October 21, 1981 imes -/`advocate Times Established 1873 Advocate Established 1881 Amalgamated 1924 Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by J.W. Eedy Publications Limited IORNI El DY Publisher 11\1 111 \ci\ert uir \1, r ,ger 13111 ti\I 11 1 Hilar HARR) 1)1 \ KIl ( ontl)0,Itinn \1,tn,11;er ROY, tiArGH \„i,t,rnt Editor l)I( K JONGKINI) f3u,uie„ Maii.m;erG Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386. Phone 235-1331 SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada $17.00 Per Year: USA $35.00 C.W.N.A., O.C.N.A. CLASS 'A' and 'ABC' Need more deterrent A communication was received this week from a new group calling itself "Citizens United for Safety & Justice", and while it is being organized primarily in B.C., memberships by Canadians from coast to coast is being solicited. The group stems from the recent child slayings in the western province and the main goal is to halt the release of known sex offenders into communities across Canada without reasonable supervision of their day-to-day activities. In case the courts have missed it, there is moun- ting concern in this country for the lenient sentences being handed out to habitual offenders. A letter to this newspaper last week from a Huron Park resident termed certain aspects of the judicial system "a farce". The complaint was that there are long delays in bringing offenders to court and often these people are given undue time in which to pay fines which are imposed. Often, the letter writer noted, some of the offenders commit other offences while they are still awaiting trial on previous actions. It's impossible, of course, for society to be protected totally from those who fail to obey the rules, but there is a growing feeling that many of the sentences being handed out are not serving as ample deterrent. Living is hazardous Caution: Living can be hazardous to your health! It's getting so you develop a nervous tick every time you pick up the newspaper because you fear somgwhere in its columns will be another item telling you whatever you have been doing could be laying you low with some disease or other. Folks are developing a don't breathe, don't eat, don't drink or otherwise expose yourself to anything syndrome. Latest warning is don't get caught in your wet jeans. It's the truth! A young chap in Copenhagen (the Denmark one) fell asleep wearing skintight blue jeans and the mean jeans shrank up and crippled him for life. The inevitable warning from a doctor: don't buy jeans so tight you have toscrewyourself into them - and never. never shrink jeans to form -fit by wearing them when wet. So do we now get a directive to jean manufactures making caution labels mandatory on their products? Right there across the skin tight derriere, under the designer name: Caution, this garment may be hazar- dous to your health if subjected to water. But. what is this? A voice of reason? The Ontario Medical Association is getting concerned about people being scared to death by all the warning of potentially dangerous substances. The OMA general council has called for development of a means to inform the public accurately and immediately about exposure to hazar- dous substances, and the validity of such reports. A Toronto doctor said the public is being bombarded with scare announcements, in some cases without real evidence of a danger having been identified. He's worried the public will be scared into heart failure while worrying if it will get cancer from something. So eat. drink and be merry... because worrying about it could be just as dangerous as whatever it is you are accustomed to putting down the hatch. The message not heeded Indications are that Wintario tickets were about as scarce as 10 percent mortgages in the area for last week's draw in view of the $100.000 win picked up by Hob and Audrey Pooley in the Oc- tober 8 draw. There were many. obviously. hoping that good fortune would strike the com- munity for the third time. For those who do put faith in that series of three philosophy. they are probably writing their money on tickets. The logical choice for the next big win in this area i, Audrey Zachar. Similar to Audrey Pooley and Audrey Bentley. •\udrev Zachar is also on the staff at South Huron hospital and should have the inside track on that third light- ning strike While the writer shares in the excite- ment of the win picked up by both the Bentleys and Pooleys. I regret to say that to date. none of their luck has rubb- ed off in my direction My lone claim to fame is that in the past two years ! have been a neighbor with each of them. one after the fact and another prior to the fact. Perhaps I could rent myself out as a lucky neighbor? It is seldom that this column gets into personalities. but it should be reported that the generosity exhibited by the two local winners is vastly different. When 1 was a neighbor of Walter and Audrey Bentley. they kindly loaned me some funiture to cover some bare spots in my humble abode. What did Bob Pooley do? Well. the same night he was having his ticket drawn for $100.00, he was constantly eroding my meagre pile of poker chips at the hi -monthly session of the Lower For- ty Poker Club. I can prove that. indirectly, I bought his book of Wintario tickets and you can believe that that will be high on the agen- da as the other losers lay the same claim 1 when we get together for our session this week. Actually. it's encouraging to see that one of the Lower Forty Poker Club members has finally won some money. The majority of players have been enjoy- ing the bi-montly meetings for the past 27 years. and it's the first time there's ever been a winner. I agree that is a rather strange phenomenon. but it is apparently one of the traits of poker players. They just never admit to being winners. although \occasionally a couple will admit to at • least breaking even during the course of the proceedings. But that is rare and more often than not. every player around the table BATT'N AROUND with the editor grumbles that he is out a couple of bucks. There's a suspicion. of course. that they're not all telling the truth, hut it is hard to discern on those well-trained poker face; • There have been times when it is assumed that a couple of players must have dropped their winnings on the floor. but I've searched high and low after the meetings at 134 Simcoe St. and never found one thin dime that has been dropped Part of the explanation is that the players are merely practicising the lingo they give to their wives when they arrive home and are greeted with an out- stretched hand asking for a share of their winnings. • After careful consideration of the situation. the writer has come to the con- clusion it all stems from the deep-rooted conviction that gambling is evil, which may have been the message relayed to us by a former Sunday School teacher. The message was perhaps more in- delibly fixed in our minds because the kroup shamefully had its beginning in the itchen of our beloved Sunday School teacher. who unknowingly (?) aided and abetted our gambling instincts by providing milk, sandwiches and cookies following our sojourns into the evil past - time. Of course. we were always extremely careful not to have any moneysittingon the table. By cloak and dagger stealth, the loose change in our pockets was transferred into chips and the money carefully hidden away to be dolled out to the winners before the kindly hostess arrived at the conclusion of the evening's play. Blue and white chip's were worth a nickel and the red ones took on the astronomical value of a dime, which was a large portion of a weekly allowance. Things have changed since then,' of course. Inflation set in and the players' income has extended well beyond those days when a nickel was still of some value. The stakes have now been altered so that each chip, regardless of color, is worth a dime and the refreshments come from the local brewers' outlet rather than the dairy and several of the female graduates of that same Sunday School class nave replaced the teacher in providing the post -game lunch. But one thing never changes. There are only losers, adding weight to the message that was instilled in some young minds 27 years ago. 1 \ "I've got it — why don't we nuke those anti -nuke protesters?" That's wives for you Some days you can't make a nickel. This was one of them.After fighting off a last-minute decision to attend a fighter -pilots' reunion last weekend, I thought the gods might give me a break and start me off right this week. I secretly wasn't mad about going to the conven- tion. Since I was attached to a R.A.F. squadron, with only about three Canadians on it, my old fighter polot friends are for the most part dead, or scattered all over the world. On the other hand, I had two old buddies in the big city, and one of them dropped a line to ask if I were going. At the point of no return, I decided to go. At least I could tell them I was still flying, as the scars from.my crash- landing in the rock garden would prove. Still had tape on my forehead, a bluish -yellow eye, and a gashed nose. My wife, bless her, who had been covertly hoping I would forget it, fell into my enthusiasm, started ironing shirts and packing socks. I had insisted to her that I would skip the receptions, a euphemism for drunken cocktail par- ties, and get in touch with my daughter and grand- binoysHu. justll. across the river With the lightning deci- sion and immediate application of a former officer in His Majesty's Forces, I got on the phone. No problem. Bus to the city, fly with the boys to Ottawa., limp with my arthritic foot to the Cenotaph, plane back, bus home. It would only take four days, and I have 316 days sick leave coming to me. And believe me, I would be sick. Phoned the bus station. No answer. Several times. Phoned the buddy who had called me. No answer. Phoned the other old buddy. He was half - sloshed, introduced me to his wife (last time I saw him he was a 45 -year-old bachelor), had a nice talk with her, invited them up for some cross-country skiing,wasinvited to their place for dinner, and dis- covered he . wasn't going to the convention. First one he's ever missed. That's wives for you. Sugar and Spice Dispensed By Smiley I decided to give it up. By this time my wife had four shirts ironed. A real bonus, for both of us. Then I started rationaliz- ing. as we do. "Who wants to see all those old guys with white hair, pot bellies and im- aginations that complete- ly distort the fact that they were never great fighter pilots, like myself. and remember in vivid detail thins that never happened?" O.K. Let's get back to the theme, as I constantly snarl at my senior students. This was sup- posed to be a good week for me, after resisting the devices of Old Nick, through sheer purity of spirit. Today, I was up, dress- ed. fed, clean of mind and pure of spirit. Went out for my morning paper to read with my habitual peanut butter on bread and half a banana. No paper. Mildly Irritated. The contract I signed said that the paper will be placed between the doors before 8 a.m. It is hurled anywhere within 40 feet of my back door. When it arrives. Got in the car. Turned the key. Zilch. Discovered I'd left the lights on all night. Not time for a booster from friends or neighbours. Set out on foot. Eight long blocks, all uphill, and my new arch support killing my foot. Nobody even glanced my way as I look- ed pitiably about every time a car came along behind. Arrived as the national anthem was grinding to a close. Thirty minutes later, the old tauy phoned and said the furnace was on the blink, what should she do? I felt like telling her, in no uncertain terms, but restrained myself. It's difficult, with an entire furnace. Vice-principal wants four pages of data by yesterday. Heaps of es- says to mark. Teachers whining about stupid ad- ministration decisions. Students all agog because the sun is shining and half of them will have the afternoon off, because the vultures from the univer- sities will be here, look- ing for anything that breathes and is still warm. By great good luck, catch a friend, Ray Holt, who will not only drive me home, but has battery cables. Does so. He push- ed car out of garage. He's too strong. Car goes backwards like a jet. I leap, open door, scrape leg in doing so, drop glasses and step on them in doing so, hit brake and wind up three inches from telephone pole. Bless him, he gets me going. Run up the car for five minutes to charge battery. Put car inar- age. Restart engine, just to be sure. AR-ar-ar- grunt-silence. Phone Ray. Not in yet. Rush to typewriter. Column day. Sit dazed before typewriter, think- ing a few nasties about the gods. Ray comes back, gives me another battery boost. By this time I need either a tranquilizer or some speed. Roar car around 10 blocks, charging battery. Wife thinks I've gone berserk and just headed off to slam into a tree or go over an embankment. Home. Stop car. Turn key. It starts. Don't belive it. Detail wife to run out every five minutes and start car. Rush to den and start writing this. Tomorrow the brick man comes. . Last job he did was $1,- 600. Have a nice day. Enjoying every moment The big dinner was over planting gardens, really now and the gold watch big gardens, taking it had been presented. A lot of speeches had been said and in them a lot of com- plimentary things about years gone by mentioned. There had been a few tears shed and now it was all finished. He wouldn't have to set the alarm any more or punch a time card. Instead of carrying a lunch he'd be able to have a hot meal at noon. He'd be able to do all the things he's planned, earned that privilege. He and she had saved and Perspectives By Syd Fletcher easy in the mornings, then going on long trips to far away places. They'd sacrificed, making every penny squeal at being pinched so hard. They'd earned it, now they'd en- joy it, by George. Every single moment of that retiring they would enjoy. But to feel not needed forgotten perhaps, out of touch with forty years of life's routines, friends, and enemies; one step closer to that eyeless reaper waiting. For a long moment, a moment he could not shrug off, he was afraid and could not stop his trembling.