HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes Advocate, 1991-11-06, Page 4Paps 4
Times -Advocate, November 6, 1991
ter:_ - Publl��lef: Jim Beckett
News Editor: Adnan Harte
Business Manager: Don Smith
Composition Manager: Deb Lord
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"Men are never so likely
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... Thomas Macauley
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i;1)IT()R1.\I,ti
Voters, start your engines
The cynicism which surrounds
many municipal elections is
really unwarranted. Even
though many of us complain that each
government is just as bad as the next
one, that is simply not true about mu-
nicipal councils.
Just ask a news reporter who spends
night after night at a variety of council
meetings and she can tell you that indi-
vidual personalities do make a real dif-
ference in the direction that municipali-
ty takes during that council term.
Not fill councils are created equal.
There are councils which quietly rubber
stamp all committee reports and resolu-
tions, yet which gett stuck when faced
with a crisis. There are those who
spend more time arguing about what's
wrong than actually working to fix
things. Some councils gladly hand out
financial support to local organizations,
and others fight over every last dollar.
There are those who aggressively seek
out ways to improve the environment, or
bring new jobs to town, or to solve a
host of other problems.
The kind of council a municipality has
is completely determined by the person-
alities elected to the various positions of
authority. Each council member has
certain issues they regularly pursue.
Those personalities are determined by
vote.
So cynicism should not be enough to
keep you from the polls on Tuesday, un-
less of course you have already voted in
one of the advance polls.
A.D.H.
The Sirens - a Hallowe'en
Story, Part 2 of 2
Continued from last week -
Then we danced. All three of
us together. There was music all
around us, but everything be-
came quieter now. And the si-
rens had stopped singing. As
they held me in their arms, I felt
their great strength. I knew as
soon as the dance started that it
would be the end of me. I sensed
that I was doomed. But I
couldn't stop. I didn't want to
stop. I wanted this dance to last
forever.
It is strange, I thought, how we
wish some things to end soon,
and others to go on forever. We
want our pain to end, but our
pleasure to last and last and last.
Then it was dark. Black as in a
long tunnel. Silent as the Milky
Way. My ears rang, and I lost
my balance. I dropped to the
floor. I lay on the hot floor, I
don't know how long.
I saw the walls tuming flame -
red. The ceiling also changed to
crimson. Now the singing start-
ed again, and through a mist I
saw the sirens standing over me.
I just lay there, unable to move.
As they slowly raised their
arms, palms up, I was lifted by
an invisible force. I floated in a
horizontal position. In a pool of
hot, red air. 1 rose up and up,
face down at first. Then I turned
around, I was weightless. As I
discovered my wonderful new
freedom, I performed slow som-
ersaults like an astronaut.
It was a physical and spiritual
sensation. I was still attached to
my body, but I had lost all sub-
stance. At the same time, my
senses were acute. I saw ulti-
mate beauty. 1 heard music so
awthat it made me cry. My
hair stood on end from the in-
tense pleasure.
I knew I was about to die. Per-
haps 1 was dcad already. I had
no will power, no desire, no re-
sistance. I just wanted the music
again.
"Music!" I shouted. I needed
the music. Now! I knew I would
die without the music.
Peter's
Point
•
Peter Hessel
Parthenope and Leucosia float-
ed toward me. As they stretched
out their hands, I shuddered.
The beautiful faces of the sirens
were those of very young wom-
en. But their hands were gnarled
like dead branches and stained,
with prominent blue veins and
bulging arthritic knuckles. I was
horrified.
The women reached for r me,
but I did not want their hands,
their hideous hands, to touch
me. I tried to turn away, but I
couldn't. I was locked in mid-
air, in an upright position.
The women moved their fin-
gertips close to my face. My
eyes bumed. My vision was
blurred. My glasses were gone. I
also knew that I was now with-
out clothes. And yet I did not
feel naked. My body had disap-
peared. My mind existed in the
midst of red, fiery nothingness.
Now the sirens took off their
white gowns. They were cov-
ered only with their long, thickly
flowing black hair. They held
their hands behind theft backs,
and they beckoned me with their
heads. Their shining eyes and
their gentle smiles promised me
a garden of earthly delights. But
I was no longer tempted. I had
seen their hands.
Suddenly I saw the heroic fig -
Letter to Editor
ure of Ulysses. He had escaped
from the sirens who were tempt-
ing him and his crew. He had or-
dered his sailors to plug their
ears with beeswax. Then the
sailors had tied him to the mast
of his ship. Although he almost
died from desire when he heard
the song of the sirens, the ropes
prevented him from leaping to
his certain death.
On my odyssey I had no crew,
no ship, no mast. I was at the
women's mercy. What did they
want? Why me? Their eyes were
on me again, piercing my soul.
This time I could not resist
them. I had no defence, and I
had lost my will. I was doomed.
I closed my eyes, resigned to my
fate.
My ears began to ring again.
Short, piercing rings. I awoke
from a deep sleep. I had fallen
asleep in my office chair. The
telekiane was ringing right be-
side me. Automatically, instinc-
tively I picked up the receiver.
"Are you there?" It was Eliza-
beth's voice. It took me a few
seconds to retum to reality.
"Where were you?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," 1 said, surprised
by my own voice.
"I went over to your office ten
minute ago, and you weren't
there," she said. "The computer
was on, but you weren't there. I
went upstairs, I called you, and
you weren't there either. Where
did you go?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Well, come home now. Sup-
per is getting cold. The kids are
impatient. They don't want to
wait any longer. Hallowe'en is
very important to them, -you
know."
"It's important to me, too," I
said. I hung up, and I thought to
myself: "More important than
anyone will ever understand."
Space saver tires dangerous
Dear Editor.
Was Linda Shaw the victim of a
space saver tire?
I stopped to assist and provide
light for a young London couple
charging a tire on Hallowe'en eve-
ing. They were patted on the hard
packed gravel portion of the Cre-
diton road to Grand Bend.
Having installed the space saver
tire on the wheel next to the paved
road the gentleman gently acceler-
ated the car to move forward only
to have the space saver tire bury it-
self deeper in the gravel. With the
young lady driving while we
pushed the results were the same.
In one last desperate attempt she
tried the car in
reverse while
we pushed and
thank heavens it
moved out of the
hole. Only when
we pushed the car
was she able to
drive it on to the paved roadway.
Space saver tires should be
banned from the highways. I for
one will never ever buy a car un-
less it comes s led with a stan-
dard conventionW spare tire.
The idiots who thought up and
authorized the use of space saver
tires must have had some empty
apace between their ears; then
again, money talks at any
Harry A.
No remembrance for a
video game war
, This time last year I wrote
about the dilemma of Remem-
brance Day for those of us, now
the majority of the population,
for whom World War Two is an
impossible memory: something
which happened long before we
were born.
Since then, I can think of two
things which have made me
ponder this situation even more.
The first and foremost is that
only a few months ago, this
country was at war, if it can be
called that. Some have de-
scribed it as no more than the
first step' in George Bush's re-
election campaign, but I prefer
to think of it as the perfect
chance for the Pentagon to test
out its latest gadgets on live tar-
gets.
But we were at war, and at the
time it had us a little worried.
Even if you didn't believe the
Pentagon's posturing that Iraq's
army was a terrible and fear-
some force, there was still the
awful thought -that if America's
poodle, Israel, couldn't stay out
of the conflict then the whole
Arab world would jump into the
fray and give us a new digit to
add to our short list of World
Wars.
But Canadians were at war,
manning aircraft and ships that
were truly at risk in the battle
zone. They all returned home
safe and sound, as did nearly
every last American and ally,
meaning that veterans of the
Persian Gulf War will have en-
tirely different stories to tell of
war than those who served and
survived World War Two, the
Hold that
thought...
By
Adrian Harte
Korea ,nnflict, or Vit ,lam.
Evemedia were sucked
into portraying this new "sani-
tized" version of war. Video re-
plays of how smart bombs were
carefully guided to specific, mil-
itary targets made everyone for-
get that lives were being lost.
Only a fraction of all bombs and
missiles dumped on Iraq were of
the high-tech variety, the rest
were just the usual, indiscrimi-
nate raw tonnage, the full results
of which we have yet to see to-
day.
So even though many children
were frightened by depictions of
the Gulf War on television, un-
able to distinguish local video
footage from that half way
around the world, has that fear
now long faded? What do they
remember now, I wonder. I al-
most shudder to think what Re-
membrance Day posters are be-
Lettcr to Editor
ing drawn up in the schools this
week. Will we have F -18s re-
splendent on fields of bomb
sight video screens, all like
some nice Nintendo game?
How will that honour those
who still remember a very dif-
ferent kind of war? A war that
50 years ago today was going
very badly for Britain, who was
waiting for the eventual involve-
ment of a reluctant America.
While the Gulf War was rag-
ing in Iraq, I spent a few days in
England to attend my grandfa-
ther's funeral. In World War
Two my grandfather made tanks
during the day and sheltered
from the bombs at night.
Among his mementoes were a
few photographs and letters
from his brother who had served
in the Territorial Army before
the war and signed up for the
real thing when conflict broke
out.
I unfolded and read my great-
uncle's last letter home before he
was fatally wounded during the
Japanese invasion of Singapore.
How could he have known?
Today, his grave sits in a mili-
tary cemetery surrounded by
thousands of other white stones
all in neat rows. I visited it
once, long ago when I was too
young to really understand.
Not that I think I understand
any better now.
Policy deters fundraising
Dear Sir:
It was wonderful to barn the re-
cent tag day canvass by the South
Huron Auxiliary raised $9 700AQ�_
This amount —Win aCTO� to lite
S18,500.00 receipts from the
spring and fall Auxiliary Rum-
mage Sales, has a total of
$28,500.00 for 1991. The number
of volunteers conducting these
throe events is over 200 people.
This is remarkable, and a sign of
goodwill from the community in
support of a local appeal.
For the first time, a hospital can-
vass was held in Grand Bend, un-
der the hard-working guidance of
Mary Fran Gaiser. The village and
subdivisions of Oakwood and
Southcott Pines conducted their
individual canvass and raised
$2,300.00. The only sad part of
this report is that there was no can-
vass in Grand Cove Estates, but
this is not the fault of the residents
of that subdivision.
The reason is that no person or
organization can enter the Grand
Cove Estates subdivision for the
purpose of asking for funds from
the residents. The director* of the
Rice Group have effectively
closed the doors from all local
fund raising events, whatever they
may be. Surely this policy should
be changed.
There are two reasons for making
this statement. First, the residents
of Grand Cove Estates probably re-
ceive more services from South
Huron Hospital on a per capita ba-
sis than any other area in Huron
County because it has the highest
rate of residents over 65 years of
age. They require the services of
the emergency ward, ex -
ray, blood tests
and physiother-
apy. The hospi-
tal auxiliary do-
nates all its funds
to the hospital to
provide better
equipment and services in the hos-
pital, which may otherwise not be
available.
Most elderly pmple appreciate
such services and want to contrib-
ute to them. Canadians have the
reputation of being the highest con-
tributors in the world for donating
funds to sort the sick and
needy, the old and the young. Also
worthy of mention is the fact that
more Canadians offer volunteer ser-
vices per capita than anywhere else.
My second reason for believing
the Rice Gray policy is wrong is
this: Having involved with
fund raising for the Cancer Society
for many years, we were never al-
lowed to include 'The Cove' in our
canvass. In recent times, I have
been a volunteer driver for cancer
patients going to and from London
for treatment. For five years 1 have
knocked on doors in Grand Cove
Estates to pick up patients, always
to be received with a welcome
smile.
There are many, many examples
of business corporations contribut-
ing to socially desirable organiza-
tions. It would be equally desirable
if the Rice Group would open its
gates and allow the residents to
participate in a canvass if they
wish to do so. However, if this is
not possible, surely the Grand
Cove Residents' Association
should be given the right to plan
and conduct its own door to door
canvass. Everyone should have the
right to support the needs of the
community in which they live and
not be deprived of their right to
help others.
Sincerely,
Carfrey A. Cann
C`.r,rwt Rin i