Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes Advocate, 1993-04-07, Page 4Pipe 4 Timea-Advocate, April 7,1993 Publisher: Jim Beckett News Editor: Adrian Harte Business MaIIegoer: Don Smith Composition R Deb Lord I ill101 iwts r)iiBwwton Wumber 0396 S oY1�DA 1111161•40 ($5 tea.) •ddraaa.d to won IMIwMmoler aiMam000 230.00 plus 42.10 a.s.T. Outside 40 atIsa (65 km.) or any letter eawlar address 230.00 pins $30.00 (total 40.00) .+ 4.20 (ULT. Outbids Camels $88.00 ()pinion At least it's a plan s a tourist destination, Grand :Bend has seen many fanciful predic- ations for its future over the years. If all were to be believed, the village would have a ibeachfront amusement -park by snow,acasinowvould be under construc- tion, and .would 'be benefitting from no end of other schemes. 'Reality is somewhat harsher. Last week's -presentation of a 20 -year -plan raintindeed belvawed in the sane :light.: tit ii.s fanciful, it is probably tim- possiblrexpensive to complete, and :it does :tend to '.wash trend :Bend's perennial -problems .and the :fact that the clientele doesn't always live 'up to ex- pectations. But it is a plan. Other municipalities would do well to have such -a well - focused strategy. The plan aims to suc- ceed, full of .ideas about what Grand Bend should look dike years down the road. It is far:more-than just. a -promise to defend the village against crises as they arrive. Yes, an obvious flaw is there isn't like- ly to be money enough to realize even half of the visions presented last Satur- day afternoon. The province and federal governments aren't likely to be throwing any spare dollars their way either. Local businesses are still on a bread and water budget and have few plans for luxuries. However, time and again, it has been proven that those companies and com- munities which meet economic chal- let)ges headonare':the ones to succeed. To put:itin perspective, even if the vil- lage committees and -council were -to achieve only one—eighth sof their lofty goals, Grand Bend would :still be that much better off as a result. Withoutany goals or objectives, the •village in .2012 will likely still find itself clinging onto fading -memories' of?prosperity. A.DJL T Paying for the deficit he abrupt ;turnaround in pro- vincial govermuenbpolicy - some have even called it "neo -conservative" - coamcs as .no shock -to those who ,pie- dictedaeality.would eventually -have to tech up witbithe NDP. Quite.=minced there was no -eco- nomic problem -or social injustice that couldn't be solved • by spending huge amounts of money, the patty quickly ventured intoprovincial:deficits of pre- viously .unknown proportions. Even then, projected deficits of . $10 billion wareoverspent as the -economy sagged and the province continued to spend money on captial construction projects they said would end the recession - which. they didn't. With all the money goneand the .bills due, the province obviously now realiz- es all those municipalities with shiny new services, ministries and agencies with new buildings (and presumably new offices to fill), and institutions with new facilities, aren't helping the economy either. Evia the Town of Exeterwas qui 1o'� ,up on the NDP funding giveaway."' iputtigg-thmughlildwaae" .oxiaW 1bfl Pies jest 'that would' have (and could.,;have) '; visited afew years. Many said back then that deficits -were tomorrow's taxes, and tomorrow has now arrived. So we ;now face higher taxes, as the NDP battles to keep . its spring budget deficit under an incredible $17 billion. The other provinces are fighting similar battles, but Ontario, naturally, :leads the pack. There are suggestions of cutbacks in the civil service, and even the re- opening of wage contracts to keep sala- ries down. We'll believe it when we see it. We would have liked to have been time whmttthe premier first realized his governmentswelled government spend- ing ;in a recession, and is now going to have to increase taxes, yet again, when the sluggish economic recovery least needsfit. A.D.H. "Men are never so likely to settle a question rightly as when they discuss it freely." ... Thomas Macauley Morning at 424 Main at., 334 by J.W. E.dy Mb$oados s Ltd. 14tI238.j33j .�.T..rtt06ttous n. �repitude�,j�,/ :;::=General//�' "'iiu.46 floea year we are altgiven a chance ;to :remind our$lves of ourmortality,.and asked to take atone of our progress through this ,little thing we like Ito call life. I am, of course, referring to the "B" . word. The event that coincides with the renewal dead- line on your car license. Some say it .even matches one's exact date of,birth, although I was far too young at the time to know for sure if it's true. Some may assume, that since I'm bringing this subject up now, I must be suffering from the ap- proach of a B -day (isn't that a French bathroo...never mind). I'm not going to say if I am, but if I were, it could be one of those rather significant and trau- matic milestones. I'm not referring to the com- pletion of another decade, which seems to put even the most sane people into conniptions, but 1 do ;,'teem to have reached troubling apoint of no return Do you remember when you were really young and got cards from aunts and uncles that had a little window in the front so the Hold that thought ... By Adrian Harte relative could select the appro- priate digit for congratulations? Other cards even had the exact age actually printed on them, but when you grew older, you found no one made cards with num- bers that high - or that no one cared much about one more crummy year. But I do see in card shops that Being where 1 don't belong It was m the middle of a downpour, when I stopped at Cherry's Gas Bar on the Burnsiown Road to fill up the Tempo. When Bob handed me my charge card back, I asked him - innocently enough - for a key to the washroom. "Well, I could give you the key to the men's washroom" he said, "but it would do you no good." "Why is that?" I asked, aston- ished. I thought it was an unusu- al answer to a common enough question. "Because the men's room is out of order." "What happened?" "Somebody wrecked it" "Oh." I was trying to figure out bow far I might have Outgo idiout go- ing, if you know what I mean. But Bob said: "You can use the ladies' washroom" It was raining, and it was early in the morning. No traffic on the road. In fact, I seemed to be the only customer. Why not? What could I lose. It was better than trying to find a suitable spot on a de- serted side road and get soaking wet in the process. Bob gave me the key. i took my umbrella out of the trunk and hurried to the back of the building to find the ladies' room. As i opened the door, I looked over my shoulder to check whether any- s - Peter's Point • Peter Hemel body was watching me. Not a soul was there. I tumed the light on. Then - as a precaution - I locked the door from the inside. You never can tell. I did what needed doing, wa,hed my hands in the sink, and dried them. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed how tense my face muscles had become. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead, whose furrows were far deeper than they should have been. My left eye was twitching, and my teeth were chattering. I guess I was ner- vous. There was something very eerie, unnatural and surrealistic about this moment. I stood where I didn't belong. I was in a forbidden space. Although I had been given permission to trespass, my entire being was in a state of natural. revolt. "You don't belong here," a voice from deep inside my stomach protested. "Run, before something awful happens." This was ludicrous. After all, Bob owned this place - ladies' wash- room and all, he had told me to go ahead. I wasn't doing anything unlawful or immoral or wicked. And yet, I felt like hiding, what if a woman driver did arrive? What if Bob forgot 10 tell her that be had sent me here? 1 cautiously opened the door - just a crack - and peeked outside. The coast was clear. And the rain had practically stopped. I turned the light off and closed the door. "You see," I told the voice in my stomach, "uothias .itagglawl. you big chicken, nothing at all." 1 returned the key, got in the car and drove off. Then it carted to !there are various messages being printed on greetings to mark the age which I may...oa may not...be approaching. They seem to suggest this particular anniversary comes around more than once - as if it were a painful experience to pass beyond this particular age. Those of you who have been paying attention will have al- ready figured out what I'm talk- ing about. The rest of you can go back to the beginning. This as it, so it seems. I'm be- ing given one last chance to have some fun - almost like go- ing to the doctor and being giv- en the grim news. "Yes, I'm very sorry, but the tests confirm you can expect no more than 12 months to enjoy yourself. It will be nothing but adult responsibility from then ort...," he says. Ah well. at least it's a year. rain again. Oh no! I suddenly remembered I had forgotten my um- brella in Bob's ladies' room. I turned around. Back to Cherry's Gas Bar. I went inside, looking for Bob and the key. "Bob isn't here," his wife Helen said, "he had to go into town, can I help you?:" "I don't really know," I said. I think I'm a fairly enlightened man. And yet, the way I was brought up. I just cannot ask a woman for the key to the women's washroom. I can't. And I didn't. A couple of days later I went back to Cherry's Gas Bar. This lime Bob was there. "Did anybody find an .umbrella?" leaked him. "No." 0 - "I left it back there the.gfr day; and 1 pointed discreetly in the right direction. "Left it where?" "In the ladies' room." "Oh ya, now 1 remember," he said, "Let's go and look." We did. It was gone. Should you, gentle reader, happen to be the puzzled lady who dis- covered and appropriated a man's umbrella, black with shiny -brown handle, in the women's washroom at Cherry's on the Burnstown Road - you may now stop worrying. And you needn't call me. Give it to your man. And if you don't have a man, donate it to the Salvation Army thrift store. I've got me a new brolly.