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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withdrawn from the present sources, where it is only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.