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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1987-09-09, Page 4Page 4 Times -Advocate, September 9, 1987 Times Established 1873 Advocate Established 1881 Amalgama ed 1924 BLUE RIBBON AWARD 1985 1111.11111111111111.11111111111 imes dvocate Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario, NOM 1S0 Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386. Phone 519-235-1331 LORNE EEDY Publisher JIM BECKETT Advertising Manager *CNA 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'' Stop ugly gossip - Much as we all desire to see the per- son of persons responsible for our recent outbreak of fires apprehended, junping- to conclusions regarding the guilt or in- nocence of anyone can be damaging. Early Saturday morning on August 29 when police had a youth in custody for what chief Larry Hardy termed an "isolated incident unrelated to the fires", the rumors started to spread even more quickly than the flames. Ugly gossip, fueled by people who had never met the youth, had many peo- ple convinc ‘d the case was "closed". People who were definite on the Saturday and Sunday as to the young person's guilt or innocenece adopted a "so what" at- titude on Monday when it became ap- parent the rumors were groundless. Gossip mathematically progresses when one person tells a number of peo- ple and each of them in turn speaks with what each believes is first hand knowledge when telling everyone they come in contact with. In this most recent case Exeter was buzzing with supposed facts that since have been termed groundless. Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by J.W. Eedy Publications Limited TS 1ST '(NE OlD REF LiXES ll' The severity of the fires and the risk of losing lives in any possible future in- cidealts understandably makes everyone anxious to believe that whoever is ques- tioned for anything suspicious will con- sequently be connected to the more serious crime, however, wishful thinking doesn't mean a thing in court. Within hours last week's rumors had spread at least as far as Grand Bend and to the London media. Some said police had matched tire tracks and foot prints with evidence supposedly found at the , scene of the Co -Op fire. Another preposterous story had a stabbing com- mitted on the same block cordoned off by investigators. Someone had to be,the first to get these outrageous stories going. We can only hope they are never innocent and put through the same painful public speculation they have thrust upon others. Fortunately, we in Exeter are in the twentieth century. At another time and another place these same gossips and rumor mongers would have been leading a mob and convincing the rest of us to join in the lynching of an innocent person. Handguns - we don't need It is ironic that at the same time Canadians are shaking their heads at the madness of traffic shootings on Los Angeles' freeways, Ontario hunters are lobbying to be allowed to use handguns for hunting. Handguns for hunting. The very idea seems bizarre. Just what would hunters be gunning for with their .357 magnums or what have you'- deer, moose grizzlies? Given the proliferation of handguns in the United States and the accompany- ing increase in shootings, the last thing the people of Ontario, or any other area of Canada, need are new regulations to encourage not only an increase in han- dguns, but more powerful handguns. American psychologists have bent over backward trying to explain the rash of freeway shootings; however, to Cana- dians who don't have the constitutional right to bear arms, the main reason for the shootings is that too many people have guns. There is no reason to believe Cana- dians toting handguns would behave more responsibly than do Americans. Handgun use in Canada is now limited to target shooting, unless one happens to be a law enforcement officer or a security guard. In Ontario a handgun permit allows the gun owner to transport the weapon from his place of residence to a range. Most handgun owners belong to well- run gun clubs. Most handguns are pro- bably of the .22 -calibre variety - and that's the way the handgun situation should remain. In the past year Canadians have witnessed tragic occasions where people have been killed in vigilante -type occur- rences involving robbers and shop owners. The more handguns there are in use, the more likely that kind of occur- rence will become, if not acceptable, then at least tolerated. That isn't the kind of society most Canadians would want to see develop. In- deed, it a surprise to most people in On- tario that there is such a thing as a lob- by for handguns for hunters. Let's hope it stays that way. (Listowel Banner) Putting up signs The last couple of weeks I've been doing something unusual. I've been putting up political' signs on the side of the road. I've even got one on my front lawn. I've always tried to avoid the label of any particular political party, deciding that it was better to take hard looks at the current issues and then pass an opinion in this column. I've taken some bashes at the Liberal party federally. I felt that Mr. Trudeau was in love with the creation of huge loss -incurring Crown Corporations and with the spending of my tax dollars on fat patronage appointments. I'm not at all sure that Mr. Mulroney and his cohorts are much better. They've made the front pages far too often With abuse of power incidents for my liking. I'm still nervous about the free trade issue but hopefully the talks which are going on will not 'sell the farm' totally. Only time will tell on that one. Dees all the above mean that I can't support a particular can- didate, the one I think would be the best man for my own riding? I think not. In most cases I've never had the opportunity to meet a can- didate, but in this particular elec- tion, the one I happen to be work- ing for is the minister of my church. That alone would not be enough for me to take time out of the busiest time of my school the Ic!By Way by Syd Fletcher year, late August and September, to help him, but a couple of in- cidents in the last six months convinced me that he would be the man who could serve me best at Queen's Park. One of them was at a school board meeting which I was atten- ding. The various members of the board spoke up and gave their opinions. It was fairly obvious the way the vote was going to go. The very last speaker was this can- didate who was (and is still) a member of that board. He gave a thorough well -thought out defense of a most unpopular viewpoint on the issue even though there were absolutely no political points to be won by his statement. The second incident was after the election had been called and this candidate's campaign was in full swing. The church had granted him a leave of absence until after the election and he was working from dawn until dusk and then some. Thus I was really surprised • when he took on my brother-in- law's funeral right in the middle of that campaign. Ile took them to visit the funeral home before- hand, to prepare an excellent ser- ' mon, to help the ladies at the church after with the little lunch they had prepared. He did all the time-consuming things which made the family feel that he real- ly cared. It strikes me that those two characteristics are the most im- portant ones in a member of Parliament: the ability to stand up for what one believes and car- ing about the people around him/her. Couple those two things with strong integrity and you've got a pretty fair description of the man I'm supporting. So that's why I'm out there hammering in signs along the road this election. Getting over it "I can't get over it," Elizabeth said, "that Duncan and Stephanie are in grade one. Gone to school for the whole day." "Time flies," I. said. "Not so long ago they waddled around with their diapers on, and now they're away from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m." The house looked and sounded eerie. Nobody tattled. There were no arguments to settle. There was no laughter, no yelling, no crying. "I thought this was the day we've been waiting for", I said, as we savoured a quick second cup of coffee before settling in on our respective chores. "Two and a half months of school holidays...Don't you remember? It's enough to drive anybody around the bend." "Don't say that," Elizabeth ob- jected, "I'm sad that the summer is over, and I miss my kids." "You miss them already? They're gone for all of ten minutes, and you miss them? I thought you couldn't wait till Labour Day came around. I thought you were craving for some peace and quiet, some solitude. Isn't that the word you used? And besides, they're our kids." "Oh, you don't understand anything," Elizabeth said. "It's just that another part of my life has gone. There are no children in the house." "They're bound to be back this PETER'S POINT • afternoon, unless the school bus gets lost." I went to my office and buried myself in work. I pretended not to notice the silence. But I couldn't concentrate on anything. Alexander in grade three, and the twins in grade one, I thought. It is another stepping stone, isn't it? I did some filing that had piled up, and then I paid some ac- counts. The mail came, and I separated the bills from the che- ques. I puttered around, and I rearranged some books. At lunch time, Elizabeth ask- ed: "What did you get done?" "Absolutely nothing," I answered. "What's the matter?" she inquired, and I admitted: "I guess I miss the kids." When the three of them came home at 4 o'clock, both Elizabeth and I stood in the driveway waiting for them. They ran toward us, full of news, their.'. cheeks pink with excitement. We gave them some special hugs and kisses. As usual, Alexander claimed to be too big for that kind of stuff. When it was time for supper, Alexander couldn't be found, and Duncan refused to wash his hands. Stephanie, though, aeci ed to play the model child. Eventually the roundup was completed, the question of who would say the blessing was decid- ed, and the salad passed. Duncan spilled his milk. Alexander yell- ed at him, and Stephanie called him a name that qualified her for having her mouth washed out with soap. In other words, it turn- ed out to be a normal supper. After the children's bedtime, both Elizabeth and I were just as exhausted as always. I don't think it will take us too long to get adjusted to the new daytime routine. And perhaps tomorrow I'll get some creative work done at my desk. Growing old gracefully I read recently of a woman who was interviewed after blowing out the 100 candles on her birth- day cake. Asked for her thoughts on aging, she replied "Each day this 16 -year-old girl gets up, looks in the mirror and says "What happened?" The fact I am growing older is something I have to face. And face is' the key word. I stand* before the bathroom mirror each morning with the contents of my cosmetic bag spread out before me, feeling like Rembrandt ready to 'begin a masterpiece. My husband, who can't understand why 95 percent of North American females over the age of 14 paint their eyelids blue, is convinced my model is more often Picasso. As I work with wrinkle cream, concealing cream, vanishing cream and queen bee jelly, I realize that as the years go by I am taking longer and longer in my attempts to achieve the same effect. I had thought I was waging my little war quite successfully until one .day, in a conversation with the company vice-president, I tossed out the casual observation that perhaps I was older than I looked. "Impossible!" was his crushing response. (I forgive him. He has to maintain his reputation as the company's resi- dent humourist! ) I am comforted by the awareness I am not alone. The "vanity" became a standard bathroom fixture long before I ever came on the scene. I have also discovered my body Reynold's Rap by Yvonne Reynolds is not impervious to the laws of gravity. I lost my waist quite some time ago. (Finder please return.) Thank goodness women are not struck as often as men with the dread "furniture" disease that drops the chest into the drawers. • People seem to be talking more softly these days. I continually have to ask them to speak up, or • repeat what they just said. Then, I tend to forget what they told me. You can safely share your most intimate secret with me, because 30 minutes later it will have disappeared without a trace from my memory banks. I am often guilty of telling so- meone something twice, and not telling someone else at atl..I have become quite adept at inter- preting both the bored stares and the looks of befuddled incom- prehension. The pitying glances I ignore. I find too as I progress along life's pathway that though the spirit continues to be willing, the flesh is getting weak. Don't ask me to pass you something at the table; you risk having the sugar bowl dropped into your scalloped potatoes. I heard this month from a friend in B.C. who had been con- templating adding winemaking to a busy calendar of retirement activities that includes golfing, fishing, amateur radio, garden- ing, bridge and travel. He gleeful- ly reported on some of his younger acquaintances who had advised that, as wine required a lengthy aging period, a man of his advanced years (70) shouldn't even buy green bananas. Knowing him, I'm willing to bet he will celebrate his ninetieth with a mellow glass of sherry from his own cellar. My friend added that growing old didn't bother him a bit, when he considered the alternative. Aging is simply a case of mind over matter. If you don't mina, it doesn't matter.