HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1984-04-04, Page 4Tlmes•Advocate, April 4, 1984
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Some common sense
John Bulloch, president of the 26,000 -member
Canadian Federation of Independent Business, makes
common sense with some of things he and his pro-
business organization have to say about the economy
and government.
But he's slightly off -base when he says that Cana-
dians are pricing themselves out of a secure job.
Mr. Bulloch made his comments earlier this month
after a Federation study suggested that 41 percent of
Ontario manufacturers (of those responding to the
survey) said they'd consider moving their business to
the United States because of cheaper labour, a lighter
tax load and better business attitudes.
The survey said that manufacturers here believe
that'Canadian labour costs are more than those in the
U.S.; that -the Meeting of labour standards is higher
here; and payroll taxes far outpace those in the U.S.
The survey is likely correct on all counts.
What Mr. Bulloch and his Federation neglects to
mention is that for too long some American states have
been practically giving away their resources so that
business is attracted. An acquaintance told us last
week that Louisiana has the lowest per ca fiita income
in the United States. It's about $1,600. We would guess
that the average per capita income in Ontario is at
least $6,000 or $7,000. And we live much better than
those living in Lousiana.
And the high labour standards here? In Detroit last
week General Motors sent a letter to 2,400 workers at
one of their trim plants. Apparently, the incidence of
cancer is greatest at this plant; If General Motors had
spent about $40 per worker, the state of Michigan would
have saved a potential $60,000 for each worker. put in-
to a public hospital because of a disease he contacted
at work:
Race for power
It's a great year for spectator sports. Every day's
news brings us fresh reports from the United States
where three candidates are vying for leadership of the
Imocratic party and a chance to meet Ronald.
Reagan head-on for the presidency of the United
States. .
In Canada, of course; we have something very
similar, although the two nations operate under differ-
ing politicial systems. As the Liberals must name a
new leader within a couple of months, no less than six
men have emerged 'as contenders for the Trudeau
mantle. So far the odds appear to favor John Turner,
the man who has waited in relative silence for eight
years since he resigned from the finance minister's
post. Jean Chretien, a staunch Trudeau man and
holder of six or eight cabinet jobs during his more than
20.years in government, looks like a strong second
'choice, but his French accent will remind delegates
that it is supposed to be' the Anglos' turn for prime
Moving to
The political leader most deserving of our support
will be the man who has the clearest view of Canada
- and the world - which is reshaping to meet the
changes of the electronic era. No politician can alter
the inevitable revolution which has been under way for
two decades. Thoughtful writers are telling us that we
are living through a transition more profound than was
the industrial revolution. The significant fact is that
this economic and social unrest will not be spread over
a couple of hundred years. It is here and now.
One author says we have entered the information
age, as opposed to the industrial age. Already more
humans are employed to provide the information that
A recent session in front of a full lengtt.
mirror has given me food for thought - the
only kind without calories. I need to lose
10 ugly pounds without resorting to the ex-
treme measure of cutting off my head.
Reducing diets and I are old friends. I
have lost, or temporarily misplaced, hun-
dreds of pounds, and am prepared to say
au revoir (till we meet again) to many
more. Goodbyes are so final! .
Down on the farm, animals are divid-
ed into two categories, poor and good
feeders. Poor feeders are the farmer's
despair. Buckets of protein -rich grain and
bale after bale of sweet hay vanish
without a trace into walking skeletons.
Good feeders, on the other hand, gain
weight on a regime of potato peelings and
sawdust.
I am a good feeder. If I were a Hereford
heifer, I would be showered with honours
and acclaim at the Royal Winter Fair,
and my calves would be worth a fortune.
Alas, 1 am a human, and my calves are
worth nothing to anyone but myself.
Thin is in. The sight of a skinny model
in a fashion magazine reminds me of a
Kipling poem. Rudyard understood the
phenomenon no better than I when he
wrote:
1
ministership.
The four remaining contenders are still
possibilities because strange things do happen at
political conventions, as Joe Clark can attest.
The great hoopla over the Liberal leadership is
stealing a good deal of the limelight frq> $Tian
Mulroney, the newly -elected leader of the Prosressive
Conservatives, who had a great -thing got for his par-
ty as long as Mr. Trudeau was on the other end of the
see -saw.
The television camera has revolutionized politics.
The man who looks more heroic and who is quickest
with the smooth answer catches public attention. What
we really need, as serious Canadians, is not more
glamour shots but some solid and thoughtful policy
declarations - clarification of the ways of which each
of these men would seek to restore the pride and unity
of our nation.
Wingham Advance -Times
the future
are those who produce real goods. Their tool, of course,
is the computer in all its thousands of applications.
It becomes obvious therefore, that our greatest
need is education = training of younger people to fit
them for the new kinds of tasks which lie ahead. Our
schools are beginning to face these challenges, but very
-slowly. Post -secondary schools are eons. behind in their
comprehension of the necessity to fill a vital role in the
new society.
Will our new political leaders be able to grasp the
significance of what is taking place around them?
Weighing In
"A fool there was and he made his
prayer
(Even as you and I )
To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair
(We called her the woman who did not
care).
But the fool called her his lady fair."
by Yvonne Reynolds
,Away
Soynds repulsive, doesn't she? Yet I
long Oa be in style.
I find as 1 grow older that weight
becomes increasingly easy to put on, and
more and more difficult to take off. When
I lamented to a literal -minded young
friend that I have reached the age of
bulges, bifocals and bridgework, she look-
ed at me in astonishment and exclaimed,
"1 didn't know you played bridge!"
t
Wingham Advance -Times
Maybe those extra pounds aren't so ob-
vious after all. I do plan to shed them,
though, for economical as well as
aesthetic reasons. I will save on the
groceries, and won't have to purchase a
new, larger wardrobe.
I have not decided whether to ask my
friend M. to again diet with me, or go it
alone. A few years ago M. and I made a
solemn pact, sealed over coffee and jelly
doughnuts. We would diet for the next
month. At the end of that time, the biggest
loser would be the winner, and the reci-
pient of a cup and saucer from the other.
We weighed in, checking each other's
avoirdupois on the scales. For the next
weeks, the more I thought about dieting
the more I lusted for fried chicken and
heavenly hash ice cream. M. was faring
no better.
At the end of the month, after locking
all doors, pulling down the blinds, and
stepping with trepidation onto the scales,
we agreed more time was needed, and ex-
tended our contest for another three
weeks.
I hate to brag, but I won. After all our
efforts, I was only one pound heavier than
when we had started. M. had dined five.
Have to go and see my
kid brother this week. I
don't have to. Nobody in
his right mind has to have
anything to do with his
relatives.
From birth to death
they are.a pain in the arm.
When a baby is born, all
the eyebrows go.up at the
choice of name, unless it
happens --to be . one of
theirs, or that of a rich
.uncle.
Asked my grandboys
the other day what their
second name was. Balind,
who sometimes doesn't
know his anus from his
elbow, promptly
retorted,"William". His
second name was the
same as mine, in case I'd
be pleased and leave him
something.
Asked the other guy,
who knows everything,
from why Gran's crying to
why Grandad is in a tear-
ing rage. He, muttered,
"Chen". I'd forgotten. His
parents named him that,
don't ask me why, because
they were on an interna-
tional kick, and Chen
means "first-born". Por
little devil. His full name
in Nikov Chen. Imagine
what the CIA will do with
that when they take over
Canadian intelligence.
Notice I spelled the last
word without a capital.
Next time the relatives
act like Little Jack Horner
is when your kids get mar-
ried. Despite the fact that
the couple has been living
together for nine months,
your blasted relatives
want a church wedding,
with the; bride in white, a
big reception where
everybody pretends that
the newlyweds are virgin,
there are some adolescent
speeches right out of the
l -don't have to
age of Victoria, and
somebody cuts a cake that
nobody would eat with a
10 -foot pole. This costs
roughly five to 10 thousand
dollars so that the couple
can go on living in sin, but
with a paper to prove that
they're not.
And the third occasion
and we all' went -.away
rather dazed, enriched
beyond our dreams, and
with only a few grudges.
We were all so young and
unsophisticated that we let
an aunt have a beautiful
chaise lounge, which
wound up as a period piece
in, of all places, Australia.
Sugar
and Spice
Dispensed By Smiley
on which the relatives get
their arms into it, right up
to the elbows, is when
somebody dies. This is
when the real _Christians
emerge.
"Mom always said I
could have that tea
service."
"Well, that's what you
think. I was there the day
she died and she distinct-
ly stated (arm twisted
behind her, back) that I
could have not only the tea
service but all the linen."
And so on.
I'veseenall this, but not
experienced it. After my
mother's death, my elder
sister was mutually ap-
pointed arbitrator. And
she arbitrated: "Two
sheets for you, two for
you. Two blankets for you,
two for you. Two linen
tablecloths for you, two for
you. Two' beds for you, a
dining -room table for you.
Everyday china for you,
plus the silver coffee pot.
Good china for you, plus
the chamber -pot." And so
on.;
It was like being at an
auction, without any bids,
My aunt didn't want it.
This hasn't much to do
with going to see my kid
brother, but I still think
that he thinks he got
screwed (he was in Paris
at the time) on the family
split-up, and covets the
hand -carved stool my Dad
made, which I traded off
for an upright piano of
dubious vintage. Maybe
nota
Maybe he just wants to
see me. Maybe he wants
to apologize for all the
times he trailed me all
over town when I was
seven and he was five. I
would first hiss at him,
then shout at him, to go
home. He'd hang on, a
block behind, crying like a
fire siren, stubborn as a
hound following a fox.
He's challenged me to a
game of golf. This is quite
understandable. It fits the
pattern. I could always
beat him at everything,
and he wants the
masochistic satisfaction of
being trounced once more,
before he retires to that
wonderland of golf where
evertbody takes a
Mulligan, everybody rides
an electric cart to the next
hole, and everybody
discusses every shot at the
19th hole.
On the other hand,
maybe he wants to talk
about all that money I bor-
rowed from him when he
had a paper route and T
was a -- well, a sort of
freelancer.
Every Saturday night, I
used to lock him in the
bathroom and freelance
about two-thirds of his
weekly take, so I could go
to the movies.
Saw him in Germany a
few years ago, and he was
still keeping track. He
figures I owe him 28 thou, -
sand, 500 and some
dollars, with compound
interest.
Perhaps he just wants to
remind me of all the girls
he had taken away from
me, over the years. He
never took anyone of any
real consequence, but he
took some very fine
prospectives.
On the fourth hand,
maybe he just wants to
rub it in to me that I'm a
failure. He retired as a
Colonel with a chestful of
medals. I quit as a Flight -
Loot with four or five
medals mouldering in the
basement.
He has been at the beck
and call of generals, am-
bassadors, and such. He is
divorced - fashionable. I
am married - un-
fashionable. He is charm-
ing, multilingual, has
tasted the fleshpots of
Europe. I am a typical
suburban slob.
'Or maybe the poor little
fella just wants to see the
brother he used to
pillowfight with, every
Saturday morning.
Talented dish washer
If there's one thing I'm
good at it's washing
dishes.
Believe me, I've trained
under the greatest artists
in this field. I worked at
the Ipperwash army cadet
camp back in the days
when you just couldn't
find good people to man
the sinks -and the dish-
washing machines.
My sergeant now. Pa-
tience like you wouldn't
believe. For example, my
first day there. Twelve
hundred cadets were com-
ing in with their dirty
dishes. Only me and one
other rookie dishwasher
manning the plate stacks.
Higher and higher the
dishes got. Closer and
closer to the ceiling. And
when they crashed
and over "Fletcher there
sure aren't many around
here like you, and then
Perspectives
By Syd Fletcher
halfway across the kit-
chen, that sergeant came
in and only cursed at us in
three languages and 1
know for a fact that he was
fluent in six.
Why' I remember that
sergeant telling me over
heading back to his office
just as pleased as punch
with me because I had on-
ly broken three plates and
one cup that day. A new
record.
I know that I was close
to indispensable around
there because next thing
you know I got promoted
to washing pots and pans
and anybody that could
handle the grease detail
had to be really good. See-
ing that hard work really
benefited one I put my all
into those frying pans hop-
ing that more good things
would be in store for me.
Sure enough before the
end of the summer my in-
dustry paid off and I got
assigned to sterilizing the
garbage cans.
It was good to know that
here in Canada a person
who really wanted to get
ahead could work his way
right to the top of an
organization.