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Times -Advocate, March 13. 1985
Times Established 1873
Advocate Established 1881
Amalgamated 1924
Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario, NOM 1S0
Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386.
Phone 519-235-1331
LORNE EEDY
Publisher
IIM BECKETT•
Advertising Manager
PCNA
BILL BATTEN
Editor
HARRY DEVRIES
Composition Manager
ROSS HAUGH
Assistant Editor
DICK IONGKIND
Business Manager
SUBSCRIPTION RATES:
Canada: $23.00 Per year; U.S.A. $60.00
C.W.N.A., O.C.N.A. CLASS 'A'
The search is on
Possibly following the cue of the
department store which advertises
that the last day of one sale is the
first of the next, the Ontario Com-
munity Newspaper Association has
already embarked on the search for
the 1986 winners of the junior citizen
awards.
The 1985 winners were recognized
at the recent convention of the OCNA
when Lieutenant Governor John Black
Aird was on hand to present each with
a suitable plaque as well as a CP Air
ticket for any Canadian destination.
Those in the audience who heard
of the exploits and activities of the
winners were humbled by the ac-
complishments of these young people
who ranged in age from seven to 18.
The recipients ranged from 10 -saving
-heroes to those rising above physical
limitations or those who give outstan-
ding service to their respective
communities.
Aird told the audience that while
the recipients were "just like normal
kids" they put other people's needs
above their own and •demonstrated
bravery, courage and unstinting con-
cern for others. The entire student
body from two high schools were
given special recognition for projects
they undertook.
Once again, there were no nominees
from this area, despite the fact many
area youths display the qualifications
and leadership capacities evidenced
by the winners and nominees from
across the province.
There's a whole year before the
award presentation rolls around again.
Hopefully, area residents will keep it
. in mind and nominate some of the
young people in their communities.
Many of our young people make
outstanding contributions to the image
of their generation. Let's let the whole
province know about them!
Serving South Huron, North Middlesex
& North Lambton Since 1873
Published by J.W. Eedy Publications Limited
MILLER SERVICES
"No need to thank me —just part of my make-work programa!"
Warm memories
An old friend died recently, and
though I was saddened, news of
his death brought back some
warm memories.
He was Captain D'Alt Hudson.
Fd always called him Dalt, think-
ing it was short for Dalton. When
I saw the fancy D'Alt in his
Lakes, he was delighted. We
began to exchange yarns, found
that we knew many people in
common: Capt. Bill Taylor of the
ill-fated Noronic, Capt. Harold
Miller of Wiarton, and others. We
had shared the shabby beverage
room of the old Mariaggi Hotel in
Port Arthur, as it was then. We'd
Cuts will hurt
Is there a future 'for Canadian
youth?
Recently the federal government
made a decision to reduce its funding
to Katimavik by almost 63 percent.
Since Katimavik has been regarded in
the past as a Liberal brainchild there
are varying opinions as to why fun-
ding of this project was reduced so
drastically, says The Huron
Expositor.
Whatever the exact reason, it is
apparent there will be repercussions
as a result of the decision. Now, when
there is rising unemployment among
young people and places in higher
Traversingthe canyons
Y
education are almost impossible to
get, it appears that yet another
avenue for youth to learn, grow and
contribute to Canada is being blocked
off.
Cutting Katimavik will also mean
a lost opportunity for youth of today to
witness Canada as one entity rather
than a country composed of a number
of cultures and provinces, each totally
segregated from one another.
If our programs for today's youth
continue to' be treated as the under-
dogs in the battle against federal cut-
backs, one has to wonder, will there
be a tomorrow'?
Only donkeys live below the ca-
nyon walls at Grand Canyon, no
doubt adding to the derogatory
labels often associated with the
species.
Some of those labels must
surley be applicable to many
residents of Toronto. because a
visit there indicates beyond any
doubt that the number of people
dwelling in the ever-increasing
canyons is mounting by the
minute.
The race to reach the sun. or
perhaps to close it out entirely. is
being fought tooth and nail on
practically every street the
writer traversed while attending
the recent weekly newspaper
convention.
The race is also being waged
underground and some of our
more athletic compatriots (or
perhaps those who couldn't foot
the $2 taxi ride i found that it is
now possible to walk
underground from Union Station
right up to the towering hotels
along university and Richmond
St.
Even having accommodation
on the 22nd floor of the Westin
Hotel. i found, provides no
guarantee that one can look out
the window and see the lights and
sights of the sprawling city
below. The only view you get is of
the 22nd floor of the building
across the street. although if the
rising smog isn't ton heavy. you
do get a glimpse of the top few
feet of the CNR tower hovering in
the background.
Far below in the sunless
valleys. one sees the moles trudg-
ing their way along the streets,
detouring for the many work pro-
jects underway to either expand
the city upwards or farther down
into its bowels.
it's a place where the retailers
of sunglasses have gone the same
way as the dodo bird and buggy
whip salesmen.
*
It's been a couple of years since
the writer visited downtown
hogtown. In that time they've ap-
peared to rebuild the city and of
Batt'n
Around
...with
The Editor
... ............ .............
course when they get Bill's dom-
ed stadium erected, it will again
be transformed.
As part of the newspaper con-
vention activities. we enjoyed
breakfast at the new convention
centre which the taxpayers of On-
tario have provided for the city at
a cost of around $100,000,000.
It's rather difficult to describe
the size and scope of this struc-
ture. But here's a sample: the en-
tire population of Ilensall could
be sealed in the plush seats in the
two-tiered theatre and a good
portion of them could drive their
cars onto the mammoth stage to
park while they enjoyed the
program.
The residents of IlensaII, Lucan
and Exeter i and possibly half the
population of Dashwoodt could be
fed at one time from the produc-
tion kitchen and 39 of the buses
that would carry the area
residents to the celrtre can be
unloaded of passengers at one
time at two different locations.
Half the semi -trailers one sees
parked at Laidlaw Transport's
local yard can be driven into the
display area and unloaded at one
time and a majority of the mer- ,
chants in -Exeter could take their
entire store inventories down and
set them up and still have room
for customers to walk around.
The facility has a road that
runs right through the centre of
it and is equipped with transla-
tion facilites in the many
assembly areas that can be divid-
ed into small sections or opened
up to facilitate mammoth
crowds.
The carpet is laid down in
squares that can be lifted to open
up dance floors. The listof
amenities could be continued at
some length, but suffice it to say
that we have looked after our ci-
ty cousins very well in providing
them with a facility to attract
huge numbers and fill their
pockets from the visitors.
There's little doubt that Toron-
to hotel owners know how to fill
their pockets and they're rapid-
ly approaching some hospital
rates when it comes to charging
for rooms and services.
While the convention rate ex-
tended to the weekly newspaper
people was around $70 per room.
the listing on the wall showed that
the regular rate for double oc-
cupancy was $160 and it was $140
for single occupancy.
Meals or booze served in rooms
were totally out of sight on the
cost barometer.
So• if you're planning a trip to
the big city, you may want to look
around and see what family
heirlooms you can pawn to raise
the necessary funds.
with the noble ancestors in his
background.
He had many of the traits of an
aristocrat: a hawk'1ike profile,
an impatience with fools, a grand
courtesy with the ladies. My wife
thought him a perfect gentleman.
He wasn't perfect. but he was a
gentleman.
When I first met him, he was
long retired from his career as a
captain on the Great Lakes,
though he occasionally skippered
some rich man's yacht down the
inland waterways to Florida.
He didn't drink, but he told me
with a glint in his eye that he'd
been a "heller" as a young fellow.
However, he did smoke, a pipe,
which rarely left his mouth, even
when he was playing billiards.
And that's where we met - at
the billiards table in the curling
club. There was no one else
around. and he asked if I'd like a
game: 1 modestly told him I
hadn't played in years, neglec-
ting to add that I'd been
something of a pool shark when
I was in high school.
I made a few decent shots.
though he beat me easily. Ile was
a 75 -year-old shark. We played a
few more times and some of my
old skills came back and i was
able to give him a game, occa-
sionally fluking a win.
We enjoyed each other's com-
pany, though there were three
decades between us. We played
the same kind of pool, needling
the opponent, trying to talk him
out of shots, but never with
malice, and a straight face and
"tough luck" when the needler's
ploy worked, or the opponent
scratched or miscued.
When D'Alt learned that I had
sailed for five summers on the
Can't_
i think it's about time that the
southpaws of the world got
together and mounted a united at-
tack against all the right-handers
who discriminate against .us.
Let's start with the language and
do the same things the women
have been doing with chair
person and personhandle.
• We need to do things left now
and start giving people right-
handed compliments and saying
, that that zany professor of yours
is left out in right field with his
ideas. That clown who works with
you who is so awkard with his
manners Netter he 'droite' in-
stead of 'gauche'. When you're
playing a trick on the new kid in
the shop send him for a 'right-
handed monkey' wrenchinstead
of you know what.
i can remember Miss Steele in
Grade 6 hark in Georgetown
of '37 or '38.
in short, Cap took me as his
Sugar
& Spice
Dispensed
by
. Smiley
protege, as a sailor and a pretty
fair billiards shooter. He loved to
entice passers-by into playing a
game with me, always introduc-
ing me, craftily, as "a high school
teacher." This would ensure an
easy win for the victim, as it is
obvious that school teachers
could never be pool sharks.
Then the old devil would stand
by and shortie to himself as I
cleaned the victim's clock, loser
buying the drinks.
When it became. clear that 1
was no easy mark. D'Alt came up
with the idea of a club champion-
ship tournament for Russian
billiards. This would bring in the
local sharks. and some real
competition.
He organized it. put a plaque on
the wall, and play begin. He
didn't take part. though he could
have won it handily. My first op-
ponent, the terror of the local pool
halls. scared me when he brought
his own custom-made cue. I heat
him. My last opponent, a brilliant
but reckless player, won the first
two games cit was best three out
of five). Somehow, mostly due to
his dashing but dangerous play,
i won the next three.
D'Alt was delighted and pro-
mptly had my name affixed to
the plaque. It's still there, as far
as I know.
Then there was the time he
took me fishing for bass, out in
the Bay. He had a stubby%, roomy,
trusty old boat that chugged out
to the fishing grounds while we
exchanged anecdotes and lies..
fish were. We heaved anchor, cut
the motor, and while he filled his
pipe and gave me instructions
about bait as though I were a six-
year-old, we bet a quarter on
who'd get the first fish.
I flipped my line in while he
was getting his pipe smoking and
whipped a bass in on my first
cast. D'Alt let go a few choice ex-
pletives concerning young punks
taking advantage of elderly
gentlemen.
We filled our quota and started
for home. At least we started to
start for home. But the motor
wouldn't catch. He tried
everything, including some
language I'd never heard before.
Nothing worked.
So there we were. two men in
a boat, half a mile from shore.
D'Alt was furious, with himself,
the boat and the world. Here he
was, a renowned Captain,
helpless, marooned at sea in a
tubby little launch, with a guest
aboard.
We finally attracted the atten-
tion of another boat which towed
us ignominiously to shore. We
finally got to a telephone and he
called his son, Doug, and told him
in no uncertain terms to come
and get us.
Two or three hours later we
were home. by car. Left the boat,
brought the fish. D'Alt was in a
fairly black mood and unusually
taciturn. 1 was chuckling inward-
ly but didn't say a word. It was
not my pride that was hurt.
Typically, he insisted i take all
the fish.
I stopped curling and we saw
each other only occasionally, but
the old warmth was there.
Maybe i'll see you again, D'Alt,
at that big billiard table in the
sky.
be totally bad
Public School. Those were the
days when you used the straight
pen nibs. Dip. Write one word.
Blot. Dip again. When you were
By the
Way
by
Syd
Fletcher
left-handed you had the choice of
blotting every word or smearing
it. i don't think i ever had a
passably neat paper until ball-
point pens came along. The easy
solution, as i see it, would be td
force everybody to write from
right to left or at the very least
from top to bottom. if one billion
Chinese can do it, it can't be total-
ly had.
While we're at it we ought to do
something about car doors and
pop cans that I swear were never
made for me and my lefty
friends. What really gets me is
that so many people hang their
clothes up on hangars
backwards. As .any reasonable
person can tell you the front of a
coat should point to the left when
it hangs in the closet. Bet you
didn't notice that before. did you?
i tell you, someday. just like
they say 'the south will rise
again', so shall we lefties revolt.
Someday you'll go to take the
nuts off your flat tire and guess
what. You've got it. You'll have
tightened them on like glue and
won't be able to get them off un-
til some southpaw comes along
and graciously shows you the left
way to take them off.