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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1982-05-05, Page 4•Times•Advocate. May 5. )982 1 • Ames Times Established 1873 Advocate Established 1881 Amalgamated 1924 dvocate Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by J.W. Eedy Publications Limited LORNE EEDY Publisher JIM BECKETT Advertising Manager BILL BATTEN Editor HARRY DEVRIES Composition Manager ROSS HAUGH Assistant Editor DICK JONGKIND Business Manager Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386. Phone 235-1331 SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Capada $20.00 Per year: U.S.A. $55.00 C.W.'N.A., O.C.N.A. CLASS 'A' and `ABS' Other side of the picture If editorial opinions have' corresponding algebraic equations, then it follows thatthecommendationpass-. ed along to Exeter council last week for their 1982 budget should result in equal disdain for the budgets announced by the two shcool boards serving ratepayers in this area. It was our opinion that the five percent budget in- crease by Exeter council was a realistic response to the community's needs and current economic situa- tion. Therefore the increases of about 14 percent by the two school boards is not a realistic response. In recent years, area municipal councils have at- tempted to keep their spending under control, while the school boards have continued to dig deeper into the taxpayers' pockets to the point where education costs are now the largest portion of the property tax bill. In 1979, Exeter ratepayers had 46.62 percent of their propertytax diverted tomunicipal purposes and 42.27 percent to education. By 1981, the figures had been more than reversed with 42.12 percent going to municipal purposes and 46.52 percent to education. The 1982 levies will move the proportions even more in favour of education. School board members have not been looking in the right direction for the example to be followed in the budget process, as indicated in the comment by Huron County Board of Education chairman Dorothy Wallace who noted that when the surrounding boards come out with their budgets, the Huron board will "look pretty good". In comparison with the municipal budgets in Huron, the school board in fact looks pretty bad and trustees have clearly not met the challenge of keep- ing taxation at a reasonable level during these difficult economic times. Will become luxury All denials aside, you can bet the price of a first class stamp from Canada Post Corporation will soon increase, some predicting it will go as high as 55 cents before long. And, while it is admirable that Canada Post presi- dent Michael Warren wants to balance his budget and demonstrate some fiscal reponsibility at a level where there is none,his method of 'doing so is somewhat sttspect. There is a delicate balance between the cost of receiving a service and the quality of that service that must be adhered to if any corporation hopes to retain business and consumer confidence in any given community. Canada Post tipped that balance ever so slightly some months ago when it increased the price of a first class stamp to 20 cents from 17 cents. • As a result, more and more Canadians are paying bills through the banking system, sending parcels by courier and using other modes of communication. And, after last summer's strike, business at the Post Office has to be decreasing. A move by Canada Post in the next 12 months to further increase the price of its first class stamp to the sugested.55 cents will be disastrous for the corpora- tion and ultimately,Mr. Warren and h1's budget. There, is noway he increase `will offse the loss of business Canada Post will incur. If you believe what Canada's business associations are saying through surveys of their membership they have recently con- ducted, Canada Post may already have bumped the kitty too far now. Instead of increasing the price of stamps, Mr. War- ren would be well advised to consider looking at how. he can trim his budget - particularly his labor costs inside the Post Office. . At 55 cents a stamp, Canada Post will become a luxury for Canadians, not a public service. Killdeer can even stop By now, most readers will have filed their 1981 income tax returns, the annual spring ritual that creates doom and gloom in contrast to the pleasant weather that prevailed as procrastinators labored through the forms at the llth hour. About the only good thing one can say about the government at such a time is their wisdom in allowing people to wait until the end of April to file taxes. By then, the weather • was usually straightened around after the prolonged winter. The sunny skies help to brighten an otherwise cheerless task. Can you imagine what it would be like compiling your tax return on some dreary day in January or February with the winter winds howling and the latest heating bill sitting beside your work area? It would surely be enough to cause Canadians to erupt into a total state of mutiny. So give the devil his dues. There's con- siderable wisdom in setting the deadline well into the spring months. The writer got a chuckle out of a radio talk show that had income tax as a topic late last week on the eve of filing deadline. The first hour of the show was set aside for callers who had to divy up some cash for the revenue department and the next hour was for those lucky souls who were getting some money back. It never ceases to amaze that people can be so gullible that they take great con- solation in the fact they are getting a small cheque back from the government. They look upon it as a gift. In reality, of course, it is returned sole- ly, because they have over -paid through the past year. In a sense they have loan- ed the government some cash and the on- ly interest they get is not for the entire period for which the government has had use of that cash, but only from the April 30 deadline until they actually send out the refund. Sure beats borrowing it from the bank! • To be sure, it may be better than hav- ing to send off a cheque, but it's far from 1 1 4 being a windfall from a benevolent tax collector. . The abundant sunshine over the weekend stirred the green blood that runs through my thumb and I managed to get in an early crop of peas, lettuce, beets and spinach. Normally, the writer is content BATT'N AROUND with the editor to wait until mid-May to start gardening, but the temptation of getting out to soak up some sun and work in the earth was just too much to resist. However, what for me was a record- setting pace, still wasn't early enough as I was beaten to the punch by a raucous squatter who had gained an ally in the person responsible for working up the garden plot. I had expected to find the garden hon- ed to a fine condition when I arrived with several packets of seed, and much to my dismay, there was a huge section that had peen untouched by the cultivator. In the middle of what had been planned as a pea patch a large stick had been erected to mark off what the gardener was in -/- formed was the maternity ward. The tenant in the middle of the propos) ed pea patch was a killdeer who had deposited three marble -colored eggs. If there were thoughts about disrupting the nest, they were quickly dispelled by the antics of the mother who set about to show that coming too close to her prospective brood would make the fiasco on the Falkland Islands look like a Sunday School picnic. • • •. • The bird chastised me fervently every • an army time I took a wayward step in the direc- tion of her nest, but I couldn't resist the school -boy temptation of putting her through one of Mother Nature's most in- teresting displays - a mother killdeer at- tempting to lure an intruder away from her nest. Her uncanny instinct at putting herself between the gardener and hernest was only part of the show as she went through her "broken wing" antics in the attempt to get me to follow her and remove myself even more distant from the three eggs. Of course, once I had been lured far enough away, she quickly healed and flew off, no doubt satisfying herself that once again she had out -smarted the adversary. I'm not sure how long it takes killdeer eggs to hatch, or the young to be ready to leave the nest, but I may have to hope for a late fall harvest for the pea patch. • • • • • The plaintive and penetrating cries of the mother reminded me of one of her forebears who caused a great deal of anguish for the SHDHS cadet corps about 30 years ago when the writer was an un- distinguished buck private in the motley crew of marchers planning for the annual inspection. On that occasion, a killdeer had unceremoniously chosenthe middle of the parade route in the school grounds as her nesting place and she wasn't about to be intimidated by the make -belief guns that were carried at every angle imaginable .by the baggy-trousered marchers. To protect the troops from her attack, a shovel was used to designate her section of the battle ground and the platoons had to make a couple of unscheduled left and right turns to get around her, resulting in considerable disarray for the troops who had trouble enough marching straight, let alone around intricate courses to avoid bird nests. It was surely a paradox, considering the military connotation of the event: s "Stop saying it'll bottom out — that's what worries me!" A chest full of medals Was just dusting off my war medals the other day, to put them back in storage in a drawer in the cellar, where they've been gathering mould since we moved here 22 years ago. I'd brought them out, or at least my wife had, to lend to a student who was going to be a general in the school production of My Fair Lady. He had to have a chestful of medals. I had seen them last about the time they arrived in the mail, after World War II. They were of about the same vintage as my wed- ding certificate; which I. haven't seen since the same time. I never know where these great mementoes are. My wife doesn't either, but she looks for them, and I don't. I say, "Wonder where that pic- ture is, when I was playing half -back for Victoria Col- lege?" Then I forget it. She doesn't. She spends four hours looking, and says, "It's in the attic, right with that picture that was taken of you and that shameless hussy in a Lon- don pub." And she jams under my nose a nightclub photo of me talking earnestly to a handsome, dark, WAAF. Anyway, it's the thought that counts. She wasn't that good-looking,, and I wasn't that earnest. I was probably asking her if• she'd lend me a couple of pounds. Sterling, that is. Let's get back to the medals, before I get into a quagmire. My old girl polished them up, and they shone like gold. I learned shortly after that they are worth as much as 50 bucks each, providing they're not polished, and that beautiful brass finish removed. I couldn't help it. I took them to my classes and displayed them. I held up one that was a medal for, eating Spam for four years, told them it was the Victoria Cross. Pinned on another, told them it was the French Croix de Guerre. It was actually guys. Stick the old turkeys on a British ship with an open bar, for three weeks heading for the Falklands, and you'd accomplish two things. Most of them would be dead of high blood pressure, heart attacks or strokes by the time they'd got there. Or the Argenti- nian forces would die Sugar and Spice ' Dispensed By Smiley presented to everyonewho got on a troopship without slipping off the gangplank. And so on. They didn't know the difference. When I got them back, I stuck them in a desk drawer, and forgot about them. But recent events have stirred some old, secret fire in me. I want a medal for the Falkland Islands Campaign. There wont be many of them, but I'd certainly stand out in the Legion parade on Remembrance Day. I can just see it: a ruby, representing the British Empire, on a field of argent (silver), stan- ding for Argentina, with a mushroom in the centre. I'm trying to keep this a secret, so that not too many old vets will try to button up their old battle - dress and volunteer for the Falkland Islands• Campaign. It might not be a bad idea, on the other hand, to call up the old vets. No use wasting a lot of young laughing when they saw these old grey-haired, pot- bellied, red-faced war- riors piling over the gun- wales of the assault boats, anddrowninginsix inches of water. Either way, the Depart- ment of Veterans' Affairs would save a mint on pen- sions and hospital treat- ment, or, in the second case, win the war. But, by George, it would be a great way to go. And I know thousands of old vets who would rather go one of those two ways than the way they're going now. Isn't it amazing to think that those old guys, less than 40 years ago, were fighting for the British Empire, among other things? That red stuff on the map, on which the sun never set. India, Burma, great chunks of Africa, half the West Indies, Rhodesia. And, of course, the "col- onies", as the Limeys kept thinking of Canader, Australier, New Zealand South Africer, and many another. Like an old wool sweater that has been washed too many times in super -hot water, the British Empire has shrunk to the. UK, Nor- thern Ireland (and they can have it), Hong Kong, Gibraltar; the Falklands, and a few other zircons in the once -diamond -studded British crown. If the Brits got into a war, by some idiotic misconception, and issued a call to the Empah to come to their rescue, there would be a deafen- ing silence, rather than a rush to the colours. Pity. It wasn't a b;,d em- pire, as empires go. Out- posts in darkest Africa; dressing for dinner; keep- ing a stiff upper lip under one's topee; being benevolent to the nignogs; swindling the Chinese; grabbing everything that was removable. But not as cruel or brutal as the Romans or the: Spanish. And there was a sort of kinshipamong the fighting men who came, again and again, to save Britain's bacon, whether it was Gurkhas from Nepal or mon from Trinidad, or Canadian farmers, or Australian sheepmen. All, are gone. But right now, I'm form- ing •the Falkland Islands Fighting Force. And if there are any of you left who want to help the Old Lady when she's in trou- ble, send me your names and the type of wheelchair you prefer, and once again we'll go Over the Top Or Down to the Bottom. Now in .black and white Last week I was talking in their attempts and have about some of the rights died. • which we have had entren- In South Africa black ched in the Canadian people must have'passes' constitution. One of the rights we have always had and so therefore take for granted is the right to move from ' province to province or simply to leave Canada when we choose to go pn a trip. In some countries you must stay in the exact area where you were born. In others such as East Germany and the other Iron Curtain countries you are forbidden to leave the country. Many people have risked their lives to escape from such places. Many have not succeeded search it and arrest you, all without the benefit of a search warrant or even without having reasonable Perspectives By Syd Fletcher in order to travel and work in white -designated areas. Everyone here has the right to be secure against unreasonable search and Seizure. Again, in South America, the police can come into your house, Suspicion of wrong -doing on your part. Here the police cannot keep you in jail without in- forming you of the,reasons for doing so. You have to be informed of the specific offense and have to be tried within a reasonable time. In San Salvador people are often put in jail or simply shot for political reasons. They are often left in jail to rot without a trial. If you think that we have had this all • along you've been listening to too many American police programs' in which the prisoner is always read his rights. Believe me, those 'rights' have not always been in existence here in Canada and it's high time they were laid down in black and white as they now have in the new constitution.