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Times-Advocate, 1986-07-23, Page 4Pogo 4 limos -Advocate, July 23, 1986 Etc, N i fi“G % AVS, AHD imes -. dvocate Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario, NOM 1S0 Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386. Phone 519-235-1331 eNA " Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by I.W. Eedy Publkations Limited LORNE EEDY Publisher JIM BECKEH Advertising Manager BILL BATTEN . Editor HARRY DEVRIES Composition Manager ROSS HAUGH Assistant Editor DICK JONGKIND Business Manager SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada: $25.00 Per year; U.S.A. $65.00 C.W.N.A., O.C.N.A. CLASS 'A' Skeptical on free trade The latest poll released to the public reveals that Canadians are increasingly skeptical about the economic, political and cultural impact of free trade and Prime Minister Brian Mulroney's abili- ty to protect their interests. The public has a right to be skeptical. For the most part, we have been kept in the dark about the issue of free trade with the United States. What is free trade? What does it mean? Will Canadians lose jobs because of it? Will Canada become the 51st state? The questions go on. Even though most Canadians don't know the full ramifications of free trade, the Angus Reid Associates Inc. nation poll taken last week reveals they still favor entering into a free trade agree- ment. Out of the 1,673 persons surveyed, free tade was favored 56 percent to 35 percent. The other nine percent registered no opinion. A poll taken by the same company in January showed a 61 to 31 plercent ratio. The poll also reveals that now that trade negotiations have opened, 43 per- cent of respondents said they as less con- fident now than in January that free trade is in the best interests of Canada. Forty-one percent said they are more confident. According to the results of the poll residents of Ontario and Quebec are "a good deal more concerned than they were six months ago about the impact" free trade will have on their lives. Reid says that Canadians have become more concerned in the last six months that free trade will weaken Cana- dian culture and compromise political in- dependence. Fifty percent expect a strengthening of political integrity. They are almost equally divided (35 to 32 per- cent) but slightly weighted toward the belief that cultural sovereignty would be adversely affected. Despite this, the poll reveals that None of my kids are going to most Canadians are prepared toproceed turn into cy cream freaks. why P Pa should they . To them, ice cream with a freer trade agreement, givin, is just another treat. There is greater weight to economic considera- nothing magic, nothing special tions than to possible cultural losses. about it. In fact, t.Rey often get it as a convenient, readily available One of the most interesting results of substitute for a more elaborate the poll was the public's mistrust of Brian .. ;dessert. And when we st'p Mulroney. Fifty-two percent said they "somewhe?e on a trip, they may don't trust him to represent their i = Dose ice cream or they may P L.prefer.-a coke.ISE„bubble terests at the bargaining taste while 39 When I was a boy, ��ice eam percent said they do. In January, the poli was the es Wag'dnte t delight.eArtlging iat " was equally divided. even close. It was such a rare lux - Perhaps if the public knew more ury,'reserved for the hottest of about Mulrony's intentions the skep- , summer days, that I still ticism would disappear. Until Canadians antics tbef §alivating for hours in PPe anticipation know what is at stake, the mistrust sur- And that has shaped my at- • rounding Mulroney and free trade with the United States will continue to grow. Mitchell Advocate "BEEN HERE LONG?" I scream for... Birdbrains After three years of observing guinea fowl at close range, have concluded that the first person to domesticate the crazy creatures coined the term "birdbrain". Though guineas look as if they guard the wisdom of the ages behind their obsidian -like eyes, those pointed, tufted heads leave little room for much gray matter. Over -endowed' lung capacity compensates for the paucity of brainpower. A guinea in full voice .can drown out all other sounds within a half -mile radius. And the sound is tuned to the high end of the dial at the slightest provocation. My first pair of -guineas, a gift from an interviewee, took off like rockets the first time 1 opened the door of their house to feed them. I had not been prepared for such - ingratitude, or such mastery of flight. The birds did not travel far. The next day our German neighbour was astonished to sight a pair of weird grey birds with white heads crowned in red and adorned with feathery black in his tall evergreens. When the pair began using the top beams in his machineshed as their indoor privy, decorating'his combine in colours other than those ordain- ed by the manufacturer in the process, our neighbour warned that if something wasn't done guinea fowl would become as ex- tinct in our little corner of Tuckersmith township as they already were in northern Germany. 'One bird just disappeared, and the other joined more of his species on a nearby farm. My second pair were also a gift, bought by a friend to save them from being sent to the Kit- chener market. These, knowing nothing previously but a cage, were not skilled aviators. They ran around with our rooster and hens, bearing an astonishing Reynold's Rap by Yvonne Reynolds likeness to armoured cars equip- ped with periscopes as they mar- ched around our property. The female was much smarter than the male, who didn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain. Often as night fell he would run frantically back and forth right past the henhouse door, while his mate called from within. We named the male Boy Geo%ge because he was either sexually ambivalent or very discreet. (Our rooster leaves no room for doubt as to who is in charge of his harem.) We discovered the female dead one morning. We thought Boy George would be inconsolable; as we had heard tales of guinea fowl dying of broken hearts under similar circumstances. No such luck. He dociley accepted hi4 fate, and meekly joined the chicken flock. Taking compassion on the poor creature, 1 bought him some companions - another male and three female guineas - at a cost 0 of $5 each. Remembering our neighbour's admonition, an addi- tional $35 was invested in chicken wire to completely enclose the run. I assured my husband that once my birds started to produce, we would recoup our investment in no time. Boy George carne to life. He immediately began bullying the other male. What else he did we don't know, as he was still being discreet. This spring the females began piling up eggs in a messy straw nest. When the count reached 30, one of the girls began incubating. The fact she couldn't cover all and had eggs sticking out in all directions didn't seem to bother her. She proved herself a worthy mate to Boy George b'y abandon- ing her task at the end of the third week; seven days short of the time required for guinea chicks. .She simply got up and walked away from her. responsibilities. Fortunately, we had a broody hen longing to be a mother, but I wanted to make sure first that the eggs were fertile. I broke one open, and.terminated the life of an embryonic chick. I -felt like a Dr. Morgentaler. The eggs had become chilled during all the commotion, and on- ly three chicks hatched a week later. The hen accepts them as her own. Maybe she will teach them some sense. A recent session with pencil and paper has shown I'll not recoup my investment this year. In reviewing this sordid saga, a terrible thought just struck me. Who most deserves to be called a birdbrain? Don't answer that! I don't want to know! - titude for life. Ice cream is pro- bably my greatest vice. If it weren't for ice cream, I would weight 10 kilos less and live ten years longer. Maybe 10 percent of me is blubber created by moun- tions of Neapolitan and strawberry ice cream, my favourite flavours. I must have consumed an average of a hundred pounds of ice cream a year during my adult life, say roughly three and a half tons of the delicious mess thus far. And that does not include frozen yogurt. I don't smoke (I never wanted to). I could live for the rest of my life without another alcoholic drink (If I had to) . And I don't chase women (they'rb too fast for me). But my vice is just as addic- tive as tobacco, just as calorific as beer, and just as dangerous as ladies. I wish the government would put a special tax on ice cream, like approximately 500%. Until about a year ago, the Centennial Restaurant served jumbo cones for 50 cents. Then the servings got smaller, and the price jumped to a dollar ten. Did th. decrease my consumption? Nt way. If taxes would drive the price of an ice cream up to five dollars, I might begin, to cut down. As with everything else, this, too, is the government's fault. • I would like . to hear from PETER'S,w POINT i - readers who have overcome the ice cream habit. Tell me how you did it! Write to me in care of this paper. Don't wait till tomorrow. Do it right now, this minute. You might save my life. At least, you might extend it by a couple of years. Is there an Ice cream Addicts Anonymous somewhere? I'd gladly join and pay a lifetime membership. Are there pills you can take to spoil the fun? Are there psychoanalysts who specialize in this particular disorder? I'd like to stretch out on their couch before it's too late. If only I had been exposed to ice cream in a normal fashion when I was young. Instead it was built up as the superlative pleasure, the highest reward. A trip to the ice cream parlour then was the equivalent of a holiday in Hawaii now. Practically unattainable. I remember dreaming of the day when I could have anything I wanted. Ice cream was right at the top of my list. I've forgotten all the other impossible dreams. No, my kids will never have this problem. Oh, they like ice cream once in a while. But they're not crazy about it like I was. And still am. By the way, I think that Cana- dian ice Dream is the best in the world. Sure, the Italians are faznouse,for theirgelati. And I en- joy their exotic flavours, their, dainty wafers and their fancy tri= Ie ebnes. I•ve tasted ice cream' in about 30 countries, and I can order it in 26 languages. But let me tell you - remember, this is a subject I know something about - there is no place in the world where the ice cream is as rich, creamy and wholesome as in Canada. In fact, Canadian ice cream producers should export their products all over the world - peo- ple would lap it up everywhere. Here is an idea for export development. Scandinavia is famous for its furniture, Argen- tina for its corned beef, Japan for its cameras, and so on. Why couldn't Canada become world- renowned for its ice cream? Peo- ple already have this notion of a country in perpetual ice and snow. We should capitalize on that. Maybe by sending the stuff overseas, it'll become more precious and expensive at home. Maybe even unaffordable. And then maybe I'll be able to save myself from early extinction. From digging my grave with my tongue. Maybe the day will come when I won't have pink and brown stains on my shirt front and tie. When I can kick the ice cream habit. What do you think? Now that's living Last week I was talking about the independent spirit which ex- ists among rural and small-town people and I got thinking about why I like living way out in the country five miles away from .a store when I want a bottle of pop at ten o'clock at night. Where we live is not convenient to pglice or fire trucks or ambulance service or shopping malls or arenas. You name it. We have to drive to it or have somebody drive it to us. Sounds a little foolish doesn't it when one could have everything at one's fingertips? Well, let me tell you about a night we spent in a Toronto motel recently, not too far from Thor- nhill, one of the nicer residential areas in the city. It was a hot summer night and as the air con- ditioner was not workinig very well we had to open the windows and leave the curtains spread apart also. Although there were no direct lights outside the win- dow, street lights and the general glow of apartment and store lights from all around kept the room very bright. The 401 highway was about four blocks away and there was a constant rushing noise all night much like a subdued Niagara Falls. Occasionally you could hear a siren in the distance. The smell of diesel fuel came in the windows mixed with the not unpleasant odour of french fries By the Way by Syd Fletcher from a nearby restaurant. That night, because of the humidity and low air pressure, the smog hung fairly low over the city and although you could see the moon and a few bright stars, the only truly visible things in the sky were the big spotlights on the 747 jumbo jets which came over at aboutone minute intervals till around eleven o'clock. I could mention the one hour traffic jam which we had been locked into the previous night and the higher rates of insurance which all city dwellers enjoy but I won't really get into that. When I drive my sixteen or seventeen odd miles to work I might meet ten or twelve other cars. There is never a traffic in- terruption of any sort unlike the city where I would be driving bumper to bumper, temper to • temper with thousands of other 40 frustrated drivers. If I choose to turn my stereo up a little I don't have an irate neighbour calling the police to complain. If I have lived and worked in a rural community for most of my life most of the people in that community will know me or at least know of me. That is a reassuring thought in a society which tends to number people and make them unknown, faceless persons. And finally, when I walk out of my front door on a hot summer's night I can hear a lot of crickets scratching out their song and a big old bullfrog grunting over in the neighbours pond and I can see every star in the sky, as close almost as a big white -dotted black carpet. Now that's living! •