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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1982-09-09, Page 5Kopf 4 Times -Advocate, September 9,1982 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 Mall Registration Number 0386. Phone 235-1331 SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada $20.00 Per year: U.S.A. $55.00 C.W.N.A., O.C.N.A. CLASS `A' and `ABC' Handcuffing police Some judges in Ontario have made interesting decisions recently; decisions which could effectively hamper police in the normal course of investigations. A Toronto provincial court judge has ruled that police cannot take fingerprints of a person charged with an offence in order to help convict him/her. He said requiring an accused to be fingerprinted is a viola- tion of civil rights because it mounts to forcing the ac- cused to incriminate himself, which is unconstitutional. Earlier this summer, a Kitchener judge made a similar ruling regarding a breathalizer tests; stating that they too were forcing the accused to incriminate himself. - While the civil rights of Canadians must be careful- ly guarded, these kinds or restrictions on the methods police can use .to attempt to establish the identity of the perpetrator of a crime or scientifically measure the alcohol level of a driver, surely go too far. Such rulings, if upheld, would set police investiga- tion procedures back to the stone -ages. It appears it may only be a matter of time before some judge rules that giving one's name to the police or being required to answer simple questionwould becontrary to that person's civil rights. There are already ample safeguards m the Cana- dian court system to ensure an accused is not forced to incriminate himself and putting handcuffs on the police in their attempts at catching those who break the law would appear to jeopardize the rights of Cana- dians who should expect protection from those who perpetrate crimes. Surely when there is enough evidence to lead police to suspect a•person has broken the law, the civil rights of their actual or potential victims should be given some consideration.. - Less money for food It should certainly come as no surprise that Cana- dians have reduced the proportion of their disposable income spent on food from 17.2 percent in 1980 to 16.8 _percent m 1981. And that reduction comes while con- sumers -face increases in the cost of food. Figures released from°Statistics Canada indicate that Canadians are spending less of their income on food than ever before. That decline in spending has been noticeable over the past decade, considering that Canadians spent 18 percent of their disposable income . on food in 1971. Americans, by comparison have been _spending more on food over the past few years. But there is a great discrepancy in disposable income and Canadians now pay more in taxes than we spend on food, shelter and clothing combined. That shocking statistic was the result of a recent study showing that the average Canadian family in 1982: spent $10,306 on direct and indirect taxes. In the same year the average family spent $4,329 on shelter and $4,631 on food. The figures shouldn't produce much of a,Shock con- sidering that in the last decade, federal and provincial income taxes increased by 281 percent, while govern- ment expenditures increased by 260 percent in the same period. Statistics for the same decade show that before tax profits from the food industry went up 181 percent and farm prices rose by 188 percent in the same period. It's no wonder Canadians are forced to spend a smaller percentage of income on food and necessities when government spending and taxes increase at such an alarming rate. It is also frightening if one were to project the statistics of the past decade over the next decade. There would be little left in the way of disposable income. Another ship that didn't come in It's an i11 wind that doesn't blow some good, and with that old proverb in mind, the writer viewed with mixed emotions the news last week that the tobacco crop in Ontario had virtually been wiped out due to an early killer frost. While itis impossible not to sympathize with the growers who watched their hard work and high investment wilt before their eyes, it's a matter that most of us in this area , would give the usual "too bad" and move on to other news. There are, after all, problems ofour own to consider and in this day and age it is difficult to become too concerned about the plight of others who are basical- ly strangers to us. The writer, however, bad more than a passing interest in the situation, based on the fact that sitting in his living room, was a tobacco plant that was protected rom the frost and was now among the few healthy plants left in Ontario and had, therefore, taken on considerable more value. The tale of that tobacco plant has been related before, but to refresh your memory it arrived at 134 Simcoe St. back in the spring of 1981 when it was smuggl- ed home ott a school bus by number one son who had picked it up as a seedling dur- ing a school field trip to the tobacco belt. After a short duration in a plot outside the back door, it was brought into the house and given a place of prominence and duly, responded by bursting forth with a never-ending abundance of colorful pinkish -blue flowers. It appeared to be near its demise last fall, but the green thumb member of the family cut off the main shoot and soon two new sprouts showed up and the colorful blooms were soon in abundance again. On hearing the news of the frost devastation in the tobacco belt, I rushed home to check on the health of the now valuable species in the living room and you can only imagine the horror that arose when I looked in the pot beside the patio doors. The tobacco plant had been discarded, and there in its place, stood a small soft BATT'N AROUND with the editor maple that the keeper of the plants had dug up from under the deck. The guy has unique taste when it comes to indoor plants, but leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to knowing value. The tobacco plant was unceremoniously dumped into the garbage to join the thousands of other worthless plants. And just when the market was at its peak and there was a killing to be made! Oh well, in 30 years or so that soft maple should be ready for firewood and there's going to be a big demand. I should live so long! • . * . . As most parents know, there are many anxieties and tribulations involved in rais- ing teenagers, augmented to no small ex- tent by the memories of their own teen years. There's normally a certain degree of relief when an offspring gets a summer job and has something to do with the time that otherwise can add to those anxieties. You know what they say about idle hands! However, I'm not certain the same relief is enjoyed by those of us who are parents to swimming pool instructors and lifeguards and it was with some qualm- ing of the nerves that the writer greeted the end of the local swimming season and number one son hung up his swim suit and whistle after working at the local pool. Through some experience at the job, minor as it was, I have an understanding of the awesome responsibility undertaken by the teenagers who work at the area pools as lifeguards for the hundreds of bobbing heads, cannon -balling bodies and underwater explorers on which they try to keep a vigilant eye under the glaring summer sun. • I make no apologies for the obvious parental bias in saying that the kids who undertake the task are a special breed and in terms of the responsibility in com- parison with other jobs, are underpaid. Few people are probably aware of the vast amount of time and study these kids have been required to undertake to reach their accreditation under the Red Cross and Royal Life Saving Societies, both of whom exercise rigid guidelines for the various courses through which the students must graduate. As many candidates can attest, they de- mand perfection, and one error on the test day that follows as much as four weeks of study and swimming can result in failure. The point being, of course, that the error in technique or judgement on the part of the candidate could result in the loss of his life or one of his students if it occurred under a real pool situation or crisis. So to all the area pool guards goes a note of commendation for another sum- mer of accident -free work, not only from the parents whose offspring you taught and guarded, but also from your own who fretted (needlessly, as it turns out) about the big chore and responsibility you had to shoulder. Summer is for children Toward Christmas, we hear that rather` maudlin line only too . often, "Christmas is for the children." And commer- cially it is, as we go out and buy them 10 times as many presents as we got when wewere kids. But I'd like to amend that slogan somewhat, and make it, "Summer is for the children." I'm talk- ing from experience. As summer waned, I was waning quite a bit along with it. I've been swimming twice, haven't even had my golf clubs out of the bag, and haven't dipped a fishing line in the water. Sounds like a total blank, but it wasn't. In- stead of participating, I was coaching. Two grandsons, eight and six, were to spend Ju- ly with. us. For weeks. I knew- it was going to be hectic, but I figured we could stand it. And we did. If "standing it" means being on your knees when they left. But it was a great ex- perience. For the kids. They went to day camp. The older one learned to dive . like a seal, the younger to swim. They were already con aritists, but honed their skills on their grandfather I by developing a sudden and overwhelming thirst every time we got near a pop stand, and a similar hunger every -time they came within standing distance of french fries. Migawd, how those kids can eat! Each of them eats more than my wife and I put together, Our grocery bill shot up astronomcally. How their 'mother is going to feed them in another couple of years I have no idea. But they weren't the on- ly ones to learn a lot dur- ing the summer. I did. I learned, or re -learned, a lot about what makes little boys tick, what makes them suddenly sullen and silent, or gabby and gregarious, what drives Sugar and Spice Dispensed By Smiley (cheap) tennis rackets out. of four in two days, and quickly destroyed other instruments of pleasure by stepping on them, using them to smash something, or pulling them apart to see how they work. I re -learned how an older brother can look after a younger, and how lip, Vir,. r a'�'�...pt:... them into a sudden fist fight out of the blue, and how to threaten, coerce, and tease them into going to bed after 14 hours of non-stop activity. I learned how to stand still and allow them to climb me like a ladder, so that I could serve as a div- ing board. I learned a new type of baseball in which six hits and you're out. I learned that, with the ut- most concentration, I can beat 8 -year-old Nikov in. chess. I learned a good deal about soccer: that you get your feet wet when you play on the back lawn while the dew is heavy. I learned that kids will eat a peanut butter and honey sandwich at any hour of the day or night. I learned that if you give kids a cen- timeter, they want a kilometer. I learned that, even at eight, boys these days are conscious of their hair -do. After a number of ex- periences, I learned that there's no point whatever in buying them a new gim- mick. They wrecked three a younger tries to emulate everything the older one - does, at the risk of break- ing his neck. I went through it with my kid brother years ago, but I had forgotten. I detested him because he was always following me and my gang around, even though I'd threaten him with horrible things if he didn't stop. But I never let anyone bully him. And he stood up for me. Each time I'd get in a fight in the schoolyard, which was fairly often, he'd stand by and cry his head off. Similarly, Nik despises Balind at times, but when there's a , crisis (chest cold, wasp stings, a bad tumble) he puts his arm around him, coos sym- pathy like a mother, and leads him to Gran or Grandad for treatment. Typical. They were playing baseball one day. I sat watching and waiting fora window to be smash- ed. Suddenly Balind began screaming with pain. He'd ventured into a bee's nest that we weren't aware of, as he uursued atriple, and had been stung twice. Nikov dragged him in, arm around his shoulders, "Poor Balind. The bees stung him." I dredged up an old memory of putting baking soda on bee stings. We did, along with ice cubes, and 10 minutes later we were out slaughtering those . bees with spray, Nikov killing them mercilessly. I mentioned coaching. Maybe I'll switch to teaching Physical Educa- tion this fall. I taught the little guy to keep his eye on the ball, not his brother, when he was hitting baseballs to be fielded. He got it, and was soon hitting them deep into the jungle around our backyard. I taught them not tokick a hard soccer ball direct- ly at the head of their grandmother. I taught them that when you were diving off a rock, you made sure you weren't diving onto another rock. I could go on, .but it's boring. But I learned one more thing. When you have Grandkids for a weekend, you're delighted to see them, and over- joyed when they leave. But the longer you have them, the more you miss them when they leave.'No more Balind saying: "I don't want to live in a basement apartment. I just want to live in an or- dinary house like this." He wanted to stay until Christmas. No more Nikov, cooking very carefully scrambled eggs for the gang and apologizing about their texture. No more two little towheads side by side, sleeping like exhausted angels. Or devils. A devout admirer Sweeney is an old friend of mine. Somewhat crusty at times, his little white mustache, trimmed just as neatly as it was when he was a sergeant -major in the army many years ago, jerks up and down as he grumbles about the way the work week has changed since he was a boy. "Why, when I was a lad, people knew how to work for a living," he commented. "Oh, I don't know about, that," I said. "Lots of peo- ple still know how to work hard. Look at your small businessmen. Most of them put in long hard weeks." "I'll goalongwith that," he agreed, "but your since the unions have begun negotiating better Perspectives By Syd Fletcher average factory worker doesn't really know what it is to work a long day. Why when I started out a man had to work ten or twelve hours a day, six days a week." "I suppose you're right," I said. "I read somewhere recently that conditions that the work week has gone down by an average of eight hours per week each decade since the second world war." "I don't doubt it a bit," he sputtered. "If it keeps this up by the time you are pension age, there'll be more people out on` the golf courses than there are working." "Now, now, Sweeney," I grinned. "You wouldn't begrudge a man a bit of golf now, would you?"• "Perhaps not," he con- ceded, "but it sure seems that we have become a lazy nation. Sure and Mr. Trudeau is right when he says we have to get off our seats and pull together to get ourselves going again. "Well I must admit," I said, "that he surely is good at pointing the way for us." Sweeney just glared. He is a devout admirer of our leader: