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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1981-10-28, Page 4Prigs 4 Times-Advecots, October 21, 1911 Times Established 1873 Advocate Established 1881 Amalgamated 1924 per dvocate Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by l.W. Eedy Publications limited LORNE EEDY Publisher JIM BECKETT Ad\ernsing Manager BILF BAFTEN ROSS FHAIUGH Editor Assistant Editor HARRY DEVRIES Composition Manager DICK JONGKIND Business Manager 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' Take time for safety A minute isn't very long and it appears a small sacrifice to make for safety and that's why the Canada Safety Council has used "Wait a Minute" as the theme for School Bus Safety Week now being observed. The phrase can be equally applied to the motorist, tempted to pass a school bus with flashing lights, to a child anxious to cross the street after leaving the bus, to a bus driver who forgets to ensure children are clear and to parents of young children who should wait to see that their children are safely aboard the school bus. Each day is possible threat to the life of a young student who travels to and from school via the bus transportation system. Each day motorists meet the challenge of safe driving habits when approaching a school bus. "Wait a minute" and be sure, be safe and be patient. School Bus Safety Week is marked to encourage greater awareness of school bus safety. The respon- sibilities are great. School administrators, teachers, school bus drivers, parents and all road users have a collective responsibility for our children. The awareness of the safety rules regarding school buses is the biggest single problem associated with school bus operation. The number of drivers who refuse to give way to the flashing lights on school buses are indeed a threat to today's children who travel by bus. School buses are clearly marked as to the stopping necessities when lights are flashing. DO NOT PASS when lights are flashing is clearly marked on every bus carrying school children., Motorists are still ig- norant of the rule that vehicles must stop from either direction whenschoolbus flashing lights are activated. "Wait a minute! " is not asking very much. "Wait a minute!" is just another way of stating that one should never allow a shortage of _time to lead to chance -taking. "Wait a minute! ....and be sure. Still a place to stand Ontario Premier William Davis is obviously among those who do not share the doom and gloom at- titude that is growing throughout the land, and he most certainly is not listening to the suggestion that ex- cessive government spending is at the root of the economic ills which a growing number of people are facing. But perhaps even more disconcerting, is the fact the Premier has shown total disdain for his government's own statements that peoplemustembark on spending restraints. Where is the evidence of restraint in the decision to spend $10.6 million on an executive jet to carry On- tario government members and personnel to their des- tinations? Where is the evidence of restraint in the decision to spend $650 million of taxpayer's money to buy one-quarter of a Canadian subsidiary of a U.S.- owned oil company? The only thing that becomes evident in those two deals is that the Premier and his cohort$:itAave lost touch with reality. They may be able to defend their decisions to a point, but the bottom line is that Ontario taxpayers can not afford the show of opulence at a time when the list of those who face backruptcy is growing daily. The well has run dry, Mr. Davis. It's a situation you can't see while jetting through the wild, blue yonder. May we suggest that you take a leisurely drive along the concession roads and main streets of Ontario to get a clear picture of what is happening in this province? It's still a place to stand....in unemployment lines and bankruptcy sales....and they are growing! Doubtful that he'll buy it If I could just make it over this next hill! The night was cold and im- penetrably dark. The windshield wipers beat back and forth in cadence, the worn rubber blades swishing water across the glass and never quite keeping up with the sheets of rain. My assignment was over, and a warm bed awaited me in Exeter - if I could just get over this hill. The car's engine cc,ughed and sputtered. It seemed to be constantly los- ing power. The car crept over the crest of the hill and the rains suddenly stopped. Ah false hope' The engine sputtered and died. I slammed in the clutch and hit the brakes at the same time. The car skidd->' ed to a halt spewing loose gravel under the tires. more sinister appearance. The windows were blacker than the night, giving off no reflections - the glass was gone. The door hung partially open. The jack -o -lantern beamed with a taunting, impish grin. Of course! Tonight was the night for jokes, the night before hallowe'en. The jokers couldn't have picked a better spot. The place was old and run- down. My foot sank into the mud where the first porch step should have been. Still, a feeling of foreboding grew in me. My foot slipped, a loose board groan- ed and a dark shape, squeaking and menacing flew past my head. Easy Rob. Breaths came heavy and deep; my Miscellaneous heart was pounding. Anger slowly replaced the fear. I looked about... There were few lights in the blackness of the night and no traffic. Curses. 1 swore. Start you motherless...�% The clouds were quickly breaking ''"' up. An orange moon licked over a distant hill and spread a glowing orange light. The car's engine moaned and sputtered. but would not start. Still no traffic. The night had been dark, and my mind preoccupied with thoughts of a warm bed andpa warm wife waiting for me at home. I hadn't watched my mileage and wasn't sure exactly where I was. Exeter could be a mile, or ten miles, away. Still no cars. Damn! What a night to have to walk. I put on my extra sweater, donned my whitejacket slung the camera over my shoulder and set out. The nearest house was about 100 yards from the road. 1 could see an orange light in a distant window. The moon was well on its way up, casting a cold eerie glow rather than a warming light. This house was okay. A jack -o - lantern beckoned from the front window. As I got closer, the house took on a Rumblings • By Rob Chester 1 said to myself. It was just a bat. (Hmm, closer to Zurich than I thought.) I pulled open the door and heard a voice. Vainly I tried to listen. With all my might, my ears could not strain over the pounding of my heart. I flushed on the door and opened it again. The door squeaked and crackled. "net outttt," it seemed to mutter. Perfect spot. I began to calm down. There was an empty front room, with the jack -o -lantern perched near the window. I set up my camera and flash, and was about to focus on the pumpkin... Wasn't it facing out the window? I saw its grin when I was outside. I saw it now... I carefully tried to focus. The elec- tronic flash whirred as it charged itself. Something was wrong. The jack -o -lantern looked as if it was all aflame. The eyes and the now hideous grin were jet black. I moved towards the strange sight... It seemed to hover next to the win- dow. I could see no sign of a table or sup- ports. put myaeeyciggedg glowed the light, were by the flame... A noise. Behind me. I spun... In the flash of the camera, a hideous sight: All fur and snarling teeth, eyes red as hot coals; a blast of foul breath: I jumped back, tumbling through the gap- ing window. The pump..in dodged my fall screaming a shrieking yell: "GE'1 OUTTT! " I burst through the rotted verandah railing, falling and scrambling through the mud and dead leaves... ...a pell-mell chase back to the car...an orange light...snarling breath hot on my heels... The car would start, or I would kick the floorboards out and pedal the damn thing home! It did and not a moment too soon. A blast of gravel knocked off the thing that was clawing at my back window. I was in Exeter in a flash,,heart thundering and breaths alternately gulp- ing deeply or forgotten. But I had to know! I ran towards the office, camera in hand. A moaning wolf -cry filled my ears. The office door slammed and locked behind me as an orange face filled the window. I dashed into the darkroom, tearing bottles of chemicals off the shelf. I twisted andoggled the film in the can- nister, spendingjthe longest ten minutes of my life. Soon it would be developed. There was a clawing at the darkroom door. I smashed open the cannister and ripped out the film. The film was blank. The clawing at the door stopped. I could hear the twisted pumpkin laughing... Evidence of the apparition, the spectre -my murderers - was gone! Not only that, but my assignment pictures were gone too! Do you think' the editor will buy that? Neither do I... r "I'd like a winter holiday loan ... not for the trip, for the postage for postcards." In the bulk, a greedy lot Hope you had a good Thanksgiving, even though my message is a bit belated. Ours wasn't so hot. Under the burden of a heavy cold, rotten weather (what ever happened to Indian summer?), and plain procrastination, I'm go- ing to let some of my readers write this column. Apparently I wrote a column a few months ago about Canadians, despite all the gloom an doom, never having had it so good. I meant it, as far as material things go. Here are a couple of responses. Mrs. Koleen Garland (nice name that, Koleen) of R.R. 2, Cargill, Ont. says she usually agrees with me, but not on that occasion. I'll quote bits: "This week's column had my dander up before I got to the third line. "So we never had it so good, huh? Maybe the consumers never had it so good... but some of us are producers as well... we have nearly $90,000 worth of debt. It's called a small farm. I call it the great Canadian freebee. We cannot get firm mortgage loans... too small to merit help. So we are stuck with paying $20,000 per year in interest. "Last year I cut our liv- ing expenses down to $7.000... a bit below the poverty level. My hus- band has an excellentjob, yet we still managed to take a $5,000 loss on the year." Yes, mam, but how much income tax did you pay, with a loss like that? Were you hungry, cold, hopeless? I know all about paying interest. I've been doing it all my life. Mrs. Garland ends with the emphasis I wish I could instill in my students' writing: "Maybe we never had it so good? Listen, Sonny (thank you, mam). I'm a farmer! I've worked my back -side off providing those never -had -it -so - good, so don't include me in them." Well said, lady. But maybe you should have taken a course in plumbing or electricity. Sugar s and Spice Dispensed By Smiley �yss�t�3 as;a,.yk ment we still have something to have a hap- py Thanksgiving about. Now, about censorship. Hilda Sibthorpe, of Wyebridge, Ont., sup- ports my stand against the minority who would like to ban certain books in our schools: "1 express my concern to trustees, friends and Wish I had. You wouldn't be in debt. At the other end of the knotted rope, Bill Francis of Moncton, N.B., agrees with me. "It is a relief to know that there Is still someone around who realizes that in the bulk we are agreed lot; even, alas, senior citizens who never had it so good. As for the young, they now expect to celebrate Christmas in June. "In our early years, h'hrd-nosed bank managers may have slow- ed us down, but nothing ever dimmed our hope. I soon learned to pay cash or do without. Started out in 1914 working a 12 hour week, six days a week... earning $60 a month and paying $15 dollars for board, con- sisting mainly of cod and moose meat... so many had it a lot worse during those depression years. Amen to that, Bill. I'm about half way between these two writers, in age, and in opinion. But I still think,. even with our sick dollar, inflation, and unemploy- neighbours that this is a situation they should speak out about. But it's frustrating to meet in- difference...." Mrs. Sibthorpe is a oc- casional correspondent, a successful politician, and the mother of two girls I taught back in what seems like the 1880s. She is also deeply concerned about the subject of abor- tion: "I still believe there should be a choice for women...", but that's another topic, not for this column. Though I agree with her. Somebody else, from Vancouver (can't find the danged letter), agrees with my opinion on cen- sorship, but berates me for mentioning the Bible as an example of some pretty straight talk that would probably be banned by some rural school boards in this country, if it had been published last year. This writer claims that the Bible contains these lurid passages only to dis- play God's anger with man's folly and to warn him about it. Well, that may be, but in my opi- nion, a lot of It is straight history, and some of it pretty lurid. Thank goodness our local school board has some guts. A few zealots on the board had drawn up a list of seven books considered questionable for teaching. There was a big flap, but in the end, only one book was left on the banned list. Ironical- ly, it was a play, same play to be presented In the country soon by a drama group. A final touch of uninten- tional irony occurred when a local radio an- nouncer said the book had been banned because one of the characters was a religious bigot. I wonder what kind of people began the list in the first place. I have lots more in- teresting . cor- respondence, but not much more room. Let's go back to our reason for giving thanks. Inflation and interest rates are killing us, along with ever -higher taxes. But that's only paper, and can't kill our spirit. We have bumbling governments that talk like lions and act like mice. A heck of a lot of people are living below the so-called poverty line. Farmers and small businessmen and people with mortgages to renew are hurting. But who is dying of starvation or for lack of medication, as in much of the rest of the world? We may be cold, but we aren't freezing to death. They' don't pick corpses off the street every mor- ning. Our children have an excellent chance of surviving. Some of us, at some time, may have had It better. But for the Canadian people, as a mass, I still say we never had it so good. Memory is a natural gift All of my friends will vouch for the fact that I have something less than a perfect memory; my wife in particular could tell a few stories about in- cidents of forgetfulness. I have done all the regular things such as go- ing to the store for a loaf of bread and coming home with two quarts of milk and a pound of pork chops (which I really en- joy) and no bread, or mis- sing an appointment, but she could let you in on a few which have been a little more spectacular. The one which she recounts with particular relish was the time I took a bus load of students to the city to see •a play. Somehow the date which I had written down in my book was incorrect. Our kids unloaded off the bus at the other school only to find out that we were a week early for the perfor- with the rinsing solution. I could not believe that a person with a B.A. could be so stupid that he would find himself making like WilatM: 'Mrs Perspectives By Syd Fletcher mance. I was lucky though. A performance was scheduled for that day and they were able to work us in. Then there was the time I washed my _contact , lens down the sink along a plumber first thing in the morning when he should have eating breakfast and enjoying himself. Due to the above cir- cumstances and other similar ones, you might understand how good I feel when I see somebody else thoroughly mess up a situation. Picture me trying to keep a straight face one day when a group of us came out of a restaurant only to find that the driver had locked his k in the car. To top It off, he had left the engine run- ning for the whole hour we had been in the restaurant. Even as I helped him manipulate the coat hanger I couldn't resist the old needle, "Well, 1 guess some of us just aren't born rilth that natural §ift of a ' fine memory. Myonly regret was that my wife wasn't there to see it: `1 it t