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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1983-12-14, Page 4Page 4 Times -Advocate, December 14, 1983 imes Times Established 1873 Advocate Established 1881 Amalgamated 1924 dvocate Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by J.W. Eedy Publications Limited (ORM-. EEDY Publisher JIM BECKETT Adsertr.ing Manager 13111 BA11EN 1 clitor HARRY DEVRIES Composition Manager ROS, r IAI'GH Assistant Editor DICK JONGKIND Business Manager Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386. Phone 235-1331 SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada $21.00 Per year; U.S.A. $56.00 C.W.N.A., O.C.N.A. CLASS 'A' and 'ABC' Do we want them? If you can't beat'em, join 'em...and at least col- lect taxes! • That about sums up the suggestion in a discussion paper this week calling for the legalization of por- nography, shops and prostitution. In effect, both would be decriminalized and licensed as a means of handl- ing the current problem associated with them in Canada. For all intents and purposes, both are legal now to the extent they are carried out knowingly under the eyes of those who are supposed to control them. Occa- sionally, a charge is laid, but it is basically a token move to appease those who raise complaints or a half- hearted attempt to keep the activities from becoming wide open to public view. Canadians will be asked to air their views on the suggestion during committee hearings, most of which will probably be in large urban municipalties, thereby effectively negating the views of rural residents. While those cities are undoubtedly having more problems regarding pornography and prostitution than rural areas, there appears to be some basis for the thought that legalizing the activities would possibly be more detrimental to smaller centres in that it would encourage the establishment of porn shops and bawdy houses. Pornography and prostitution are not major pro- blems now in communities such as Exeter, primarily because of community standards and pressure, rather than being due to any legal consideration. However, legalization would remove all aspects of that community pressure and sooner or later some en- trepreneur would be persuaded to test the local market. Most of the pornographic material now available in this immediate area is considered "tame" in com- parison to that which has drawn complaints from our urban neighbors. If that "tame" material had to be withdrawn from the present sources, where it is only a portion of an outlet's income, it would again en- courage the establishment of a full-scale porn shop where the most vile material would also be made available. Pornography and prostitution may well be national problems, but they are basically confined to larger ur- ban centres. Legalizing them could quickly promote their establishment in rural centres. It is a matter worthy of careful consideration by area groups and politicians and they should be forewarned that silence could well be taken as consent. Do we want or need legalized porn shops and bawdy houses in our communi ty?Well, let your views be known before the decision is made for you. Should learn skill The Cookstown Business Guild have struck upon a novel method of paying for a portion of the money they require to print a report regarding that communi- ty's commercial development possibilities. They're asking municipalities in the province to provide a "contribution" of $75, which in turn will result in the donors receiving a copy of the final report. It may not be a bad investment if it provides some ready information that can be used by other com- munities to consider their commercial development possibilites. The report is the result of "a great deal of time and money" in research. How much do you think it would cost to explore the commercial development possibilities of Cookstown, a community of 900 souls located at the intersection of Highways 89 and 21 some 60 km. north of Toronto? Would you be surprised at $92,000? Would you be sur - •4 prised as well to learn that that $92,000 was provided by the federal and provincial goverments? Now here's the clincher; part of the research undertaken with the $92,000 from the governments was used to determine the funding that may be available from those same governments to institute many of the projects researched. - Obviously, every municipality in Ontario should get a copy of the Cookstown report to find out how they managed to so skillfully pick the pockets of the pro- vincial and federal governments...and to be updated on how much they can scoop from the same sources to initiate some of the projects researched. Municipal governments may think it's an attempt to take them along for the ride, but they're in good com- pany with their provincial and federal cohorts, and at a much reduced fare. Not all lonely hearts Newspapers have never been known to turn their backs on making an honest buck and a few have taken their lead from newspapers in India to promote "compa- nions wanted " columns. It wasn't too many years ago when I recall that a Clinton ma c•,used quite a stir and ended up being publicized in newspapers across the country when he placed an advertisement for a wife. Now, of course, most major dailies carry long columns of such notices and there's one in Vancouver which now in- cludes a "pick of the personals". Some of the more clever and unusual ads are gleaned from newspapers across North America and are included as an entertain- ment feature only. Regardless of what you may think of people who advertise their availability or request for partners, most of the adver- tisements are indeed entertaining and imaginative. For those of you in the sheltered world of rural Huron or Middlesex who may be thinking of seeking a companion from among the advertisements, there is one word of caution. You have to read through the entire missive to be certain you are the proper gender being sought. To merely assume that an ad that starts off "I am a woman" will end up detailing the attributes being sought in a male is folly. Preferences aren't quite that clear- cut these days. While the majority of people probably border on being deceitful in extolling their attributes, there are some refreshingly candid and frank descriptions provided by a few. There's little left to the imagination in what you could expect from a "myopic, asthmatic, mature, obese woman". Nor is there any doubt as to her intentions when she notes "object is matrimony". In view of her vivid self-portrait, the lady probably could have saved a few cents by deleting the obvious comment that any respondent interested would require the essential attribute of a good sense of humor. That's one of the advertisPments glean- ed from the aforementioned Vancouver paper, and if a visit to that city is among your winter holiday plans you may be well BATT'N AROUND with the editor advertise advised to keep your head up. That obese lady lists skydiving as one of her favorite hobbies. . . The length of the "lonely hearts" adver- tisement lists appear to grow con- siderably at this time of year, as people grasp at any little straw in their attempts to overcome the loneliness that puts a real damper on the festive season. While most readers will be busy with preparations for family gatherings and their anticipation of fun and fellowship, there are several others in our com- munities who almost dread the season due to their circumstances. While area groups do a good job in look- ing after the material needs of families and individuals, it should not be assum- ed that is the only challenge faced in meeting the needs of all members of the community. In fact, many who have no material needs whatever are improvish- ed in terms of their lack of human caring and sharing. It is a rather ironical aspect of our times that people have no difficulty in dig- ging into their pockets to provide for another's material needs, but can not master the art of providing the human contact that is often a greater need. The majority of people recognize that need, but so few take the time or effort to meet it, excusing themselves on the basis of not having that special "gift" that prompts people to drop in on a shut-in or undertake other ways of diminishing the loneliness for those about them. It may well be a special gift, but it is in- herent in most people and only requires some cultivation. Unlike material gifts, the gift of caring and sharing often brings as many rewards to the giver as the recipient. It costs nothing, needs no fancy wrapp- ing paper and you can rest assured it will never be exchanged because it will be considered the best present by anyone on whom you bestow it. • . . The winning hand promotion staged by the Exeter's BIA merchants proved highly popular with area residents, judg- ing from the number of entries received. Those responsible for directing the morals of the community will be happy to know that not all the participants were ex- perienced poker players. The chap who thought he had a winning hand with only the two of diamonds and a three of hearts, has already received an engraved invita- tion to attend the next meeting of the writer's poker club, as have a few others who messed up on what they thought was a flush or straight. While the governments have turned this into a nation of gamblers, at least one local cleric has obviously failed to im- press upon his flock the evil of the prac- tice. One poker hand was submitted in a local church collection envelope. Must pass that idea along to a friend who has trouble finding an elastic band big enough to wrap around his poker earnings. "1 left the car in shat I assumed was the mall parking lot -- turned out to he a traffic jam!" The nights are longer "Morning, dear" Hi sweetie. Did you get some sleep?" Insomnia was the big bane of an otherwise healthy life. "Hardly any. I was sick all night with a cold. Let's make the bed. You have to get away eariy today." It was Professional Develop- ment Day for teachers and I had 30 miles to drive. We began the bed - making. She gasped, and said, "I'm sick" and fell to her knees. I tried to lift her onto the bed, but couldn't, with only one arm useful. "I'll get you a glass of water," and I headed for the bathroom. I heard a heavy thud, rushed back to the bedroom, and she was lying on her back, bleeding from a cut on her head, where she'd struck the sharp corner of a chest of drawers. "Did I fall? Why did l fall?" I was alarmed, but not panicky. I got a cold com- press and tried to staunch the bleeding. "Stop put- ting your fingers in your cut it only makes it worse." She rolled over onto her face and said, "Don't leave me. Don't leave me." By this time I was panicky and spent ten minutes trying to get_our doctor through an answer- ing service, then through the hospital. I thought she was just knocked out by the blow on the head. Stupid people kept ask- ing how old she was, and whether she was breathing. I tried to find a pulse and held a mirror in front of her mouth, but my hands were shaking so much I couldn't tell anything. I finally phoned an am- bulance. The young men did everything they could, then took her to the hospital, still in her dressing -gown. I can't believe the insen- sitivity of hospital ad - Sugar and Spice Dispensed By Smiley ministration. While the medical staff was trying to save my wife, I was told I must sit down and answer a lot of ridiculous questions: address, her age, telephone number, in- surance number, all that garbage. Not a single per- sonal note. I almost told the clerk to stuff it. Our doctor appeared, a nurse took me gently by the shoulder and I groan- ed, "Don't tell me. Don't". He did. I hadn't left her. She'd left me. I've always thought I was pretty tough. I shed a few leaky tears when my mother and father and brother died. During the war, I had a buddy one day and an empty bed the next. But this time I cried like a baby, despite efforts to pull myself together. Every time someone said a kind word, my face would crumple and I couldn't speak. Could barely get a word out. The rest of that day is a blur. I took a last look at my sweetheart, my Old Battleaxe, my constant support, my favorite bickering companion, the oft -upset mother of our children, the scolder and spoiler of our grandboys. I kissed her, touched her cheek and wept. And wept. Took a taxi home. No jacket, just a shirt. It wasn't home. I vaguely remember people, old friends, coming in . Jeanne Sauve held my hand and stroked my head and didn't say anything foolish. Perrie Rintoul put his arm around my shoulders, insisted I eat, and made soup and peeled a banana. I had to laugh, amid my sobs, at the banana. Typical man. One of the worst ordeals was calling the kits and my wife's dear and close sister. I'd get to the phone, blurt the news as quickly as I could, then choke up completely. I've always admired people who could cope with grief, without a lot of hysterics and sentimental nonsense. I couldn't. The next few days were spent in limbo or some other territory. I was useless. Everyone else pitched in neighbors and friends brought vast quantities of food. My big sister arrived and took over, and kept things on an even keel, washing dishes until her hands :rt were shrivelled, ironing shirts, putting things away until I still can't find anything. I did manage to hold up pretty well at the funeral home. The only problem was that all the men pat- ted me heavily on my broken shoulder, and all the women hugged me, further increasing the agony of that wing. My brother-in-law delivered one of the finest, most honest eulogies I've ever heard. Phone calls came from all over North and Central America. Donations flooded in to a scholarship in my wife's name for piano students. Readers of my column who don't know me, nor I them, wrote consoling letters. My son, Hugh, came up two weekends in a row from the city, just to keep me company, and did, in his good hearted, ham- fisted way. He carefully put away in the tool -shed my old lawnmower, which had been left out to go the the dump. He shovelled the sidewalk for the first time in 18 years. And my grandboys were great. They knew what it was all about. They knew their beloved Gran was gone. They stayed out of the way, didn't fight once and only showed their feel- ings by taking my hand, or curling a little arm about my neck. Broken shoulder in September. Brokenheart in November. But don't worry. Shoulders heal. Hearts are just pumps. I'll survive. But it's lonely in the big, brick house. The days are very long. And the nights are longer. Living in dangerous times In recent months there has been a frightening escalation in the war of nerves between the United States and Russia. Although I have criticized Mr. Trudeau in the past over a variety of issues I have to give the man credit for trying to ease world tension by travell- ing around the world hop- ing to get world leaders to come to an agreement over some of the sensitive issues. It would seem tome that both sides are deeply fear- ful of the other's capabilities of destruction, undoubtedly with great justification. The western powers look at Russia's smashing of resistence in Hungary, Czechoslovakia and the bloody destruction of To he fair though, Russia is also fearful of the tremendous Perspectives By Syd Fletcher thousands of Afghanistan people and are afraid. The U.S. sees a build-up of arms in Grenada and sees it as Russian -Cuban in- spired; similarly the U.S. is concerned about the in- stability of Central American and sees that as a possible threat. technoligical capabilities of the U.S. in the form of the very powerful Cruise Missile. They see themselves surrounded on all sides -the millions of hostile Chinese aligned in- creasingly with the Japanese, the Muslims of the Middle East who con- sider the Russians as 'in- fidel Communists', and to the north the unfriendly West Europeans. Also, the Russians can- not easilyforget that their country has been invaded many times over the last thousand years: by Ger- mans, Tatars, Turks, Poles, Swedes, the British and French in the Cri- mean War, all with the loss of millions of lives, certainly within the memory of millions who are still living. We are living in dangerous times, and those who would fan the flames of war with careless words and ac- tions should be censured, not praised.