Loading...
Clinton News-Record, 1983-07-20, Page 4PAGE 4 —CLINTON NEWS -RECORD, WEDNESDAY, JULY 20,1983 Ms Clinton I4r-rmk.itecervi is published sash Siodnesdey art P.O. flea 84, Clinton, Ontario, Cha, Mid 164. Tel.& 482.8448. Subscription Date: Conde -°11.14 Se. Citizen - °28.64 par year fe.S.Ba. & harelips - °91.64 poor year it is risideverod am amend duos mall by Vita post alike nosier Vito permit number 4417. The NOwbltxord Incorporated in 1484 the Huron Nmws-liocard, founded in 11181, and Tinea Clinton Now D?rm, f0000ded in 1465. Total arses rein 4.$44. Incorporating THE BLXTH STANDARD) J. HOWARD AITKEN - Publisher SHELLEY MCPHEE - Editor GARY HAIST - Advertising Manager MARY ANN HOLLENBECIC - Office Manager A MEMBER MEMBER Display arvartlelap rage available on raspiest. Ash for Doha Card No. 12 sff.c9lva Oct. 1, 1111. Down on the farm Most people in this area are close enough to farmers to know at least one who has suffered personal injury from his work on the land, or in the barn. However, few people know the scope of farm injuries. Recently the Farm Safety Association Inc. people released their 1982 statistics. The facts and figures are enough to make anyone think twice about the nice, quiet life down on the farm. The Farm Safety Association reports the number of farm injuries occurring on Ontario farms in 1982 dropped marginally. However farm fatalities were up. The 1982 annual survey recorded 2,472 lost -time injuries. This figure represents a four per cent drop from the 1981 survey which reported 2,573 injuries. However deaths increased from 40 in 1981 to 45 in 1982. Tractors and farm machinery were involved in the majority of accidental farm deaths and eight of the reported deaths occurred to individuals under the age of 20 years. Those are the facts and figures. The sparse details of the fatalities are heart- breaking. For example, here are a few from Southwestern Ontario. Jan. 7, Middlesex County — Victim was cutting trees on his farm. When part of o tree fell the wrong way, victim backed away, slipped on ice and struck his head on the ice. Victim was bleeding and suffering from hypothermia for about four hours before being found. Age 62. March 29, Hastings County -- Child was standing on running board of tractor. Father in process of backing tractor up to the barn. Noticed son was no longer on tractor. Found son on the ground. Left front tire had run over child's head. Age three. April 19, Perth County — Victim's coveralls became entangled in manure spreader beaters. Possibility exists that victim tripped and fell head -first into the beaters of the spreader. Age 56. May 4, Huron County — Victim's son was operating a truck in the barnyard. Victim was behind the truck when the vehicle drove over him. Age 77. May 24, Perth County — Father backed out of garage in a half -ton pick-up truck. Knocked child over and ran over child. Not aware child was in the area. Age 16 months. June 20, Huron County — Victim was in a well pumping out water with a gasoline motor to drive the pump. Victim was overcome by carbon monoxide and drowned in the water. Age 59. Aug. 6, Wellington County — A combine driven by victim was going down a steep hill. The combine apparently went out of control, entered the ditch and roll- ed over. Age 27. Sept. 15, Hastings County — Victim was attempting to pull a large rock out of the ground with a tractor when the tractor flipped over, pinning the victim. Age 20. Life on the farm hos many rewards, but it also can be downright dangerous. Death can hit any age, anyplace, anyway at any time. It's something to think about the next time you envy the farmer on his tractor out on the back 40 working up a dust trail. behind the scenes Sizzling skin It's downright unpatriotic, I admit. If I were an American I'd be hauled before the House Committee on Un-American Ac- tivities and branded a pinko at least and more likely a Red. Well 1 might as well come out of the closet and admit it, I'm a red alright. The reason I'm in the closet in the first place is that it's the one place around I don't get sunburned. If I spend too long with the refrigerator door open choosing a snack I'll get sunburned from the little light at the back. Blame it on my Scottish ancestors as I. may try, it still remains a fact that I'm a party-pooper. This time of year in the midst of a two-week heatwave everybody in the family is itching to go to the beach but me (partly because I know I'll do my itching a couple of days after coming home from the beach). In a nation of sunwor- shippers, I'm a heretic. I hate the sun. I'd rather stay at home .on the lawn chair under the big maple trees in my back yard, than lie in the sun for a couple of hours and suffer for a week. Try to tell that to the kids though, especially when they have, luckily for them, not inherited my tender skin. There was only one time in my life when I really enjoyed going to the beach, or at least got enough reward that made it wor- thwhile spending hours spreading Nox- zema when I got home and peeling off dead skin for the next few days. That was when I was a teenager and the beach was the place to be on the weekends because you saw a lot of girls there (not to mention a lot of a lot of girls). You ignored the pain to get the pleasure of maybe rneeting one of these gorgeous, females, or at least ap- preciating their attributes so attractively displayed. Now with a wife and four kids, —from The Listowel Banner. keith roulston even appreciating can be dangerous to my health. by my skin. I mean how can you be macho if, when you are at the beach, you either look like the bleached bones of a beached whale or a lobster that somebody has just pulled from a pot of boiling water. When everybody else is lying there frying in the sun, there you are, for heavens sake. with the old women at the back of the beach, under the trees. And those trees are what you choose your beach by. If there aren't trees, you find another beach. The secret to saving face ( not to mention skin) under the circumstances is to be athletic and head for the water the mo- ment you arrive at the beach and stay in it until you're ready to go home. That way only your head can get sunburned when you come up to breathe. Unfortunately, I dislike water only slightly Tess than I dislike sun. The water is great to cool off in but two minutes is enough to last me an afternoon. To make matters worse, I mar- ried into a family of dolphins. I mean these people would hwim Lake Ontario to work up an appetite for breakfast. 1 was once on a television Interview show with a skin specialist who was preaching the dangers of too much sun. Skin cancer, he warned. Premature aging. Dried skin. He rnade it sound like all those people with the gorgeous tans were just a step or two (or another long weekend at the beach) from death's door. Made me feel immensely better. Then I looked at him again. Light hair, light skin, freckles. No wonder he was so vehement. He was trying to scare hell out of all those bronzed Adonises who have made him feel inferior all his life. But I must admit I remember his words fondly. The hope that maybe my skin will someday be years younger than you people with your glorious tans is what keeps me going to my old age. if t don't peel off all my skin first! Lazy Sunday sugar and spice Old fighter pilots Looking forward to a fishing trip with a few old fighter pilots. It'll be the first time I've been really fishing for years. I used to work the trout streams fairly regularly, but between acid rain and pesticides flow- ing into them, they've become almost bar- ren. My wife was all in favor of the trip at first. You need to get away. Do something different. See some old friends. That sort of thing. I was surprised and delighted. But it didn't take her long to start worry- ing. "Your fishing tackle is all rusty. What about your arthritis? You haven't anything to wear. I suppose you'll all just sit around and drink and tell stories. What'll I do while you're away?" I think what really gets her is that I'll be out of touch with the lousy old world for a few days — no telephone, radio, mailman. It's a fly -in lake and she can't get at me to tell me the latest terrible news about the family. That's the only kind of real holiday that does a man any good. Get good and filthy, don't shave, catch some fish, eat hearty, play some poker, have a little snort without anyone sniffing in disgust, and sleep like a baby. What she really distrusts are old fighter pilots. Every time I get together with them, I age about 10 years for a few weeks. But surely she has nothing to worry about this time. The whole -trip has been organized by Jack Ryan, lawyer, good churchman, father of five. Surely old Jack wouldn't get a chap in trouble. And yet ... I do have memories. It's amazing how some friendships are by Shelley McPhee formed in such a short time, and last for decades. Jack and I met for the first time at some god -forsaken little English hailway station miles from nowhere, both eaded for operational training on Spit- fires. We spent only about three months together, but formed a close friendship that has lasted more than 40 years, although we've seen each other only occa- sionally since the war. We became part of a gallant little band that included a Sikh, a Norwegian, a Belgian, a Pole, some Free French, various New Zealanders and Australians, and the usual scattering of Scots, Irish and Brits. We trained together, hit, the pubs together, pursued girls together, sang together, during a bleak English winter, then went our various ways, most to be killed. Jack Ryan was posted to a Spitfire squadron. I, to my disgust, was transferred to training for the new Typhoon fighter-bomber. Singh Thandi, our Sikh friend, was sent out, or back, to India and reported killed flying against the Japanese in Burma. The only other one I've seen since, aside from Jack, was Jacques Van der Perren, a Belgian. Our paths crossed for five minutes in Brussels in 1944. I went missing not long after, and he was killed. Old Ryan was all Irish, genial, witty, out -going, and the second best snooker player in the mess. I was the best. He was certainly the best pilot in the training unit, as most of us were rookies with a couple of hundred hours, while he'd spent about a year in England as a flying instructor. We used to go up in pairs, to practise dog -fighting. I dreaded being paired with kaleidoscope. July 25-31 is Farm Safety Week. This year the Canada Safety Council's theme is Weed Out Hazards - Wear Protective Equipment. Each year there are approximately 200 accidental deaths and some 25,000 injuries sustained by Canadian farm workers. The Safety Council warns that agricultural work injuries involve all parts of the body, especially the head, eyes, ears, lungs, hands, skin and feet. When it is impossible or impracticable to eliminate a hazard, personal protective equipment must be worn. This equipment is designed to prevent or minimize injury if an accident occurs or if the worker is subjected to environmental hazards. You should first determine the need for protective equipment, then select proper types for hazards faced in a par- ticular operation. In the past, our area has not been free from farm accidents. Please call the ministry of agriculture office at 482-3428 in Clinton if you have any questions or con- cerns. + + + Mentioning, telephone numbers I have one correction to make. Last week I asked callers to contact our Blyth correspondent Sheron Stadelrlaann with any information that we could use in our upcoming Blyth Threshermen'9 Reunion special edition. Unfortunately I gave the Blyth Summer Festival's telephone number, not Sheron's. Jack Ryan. We'd break off, I'd look wildly around the sky, see nothing, and suddenly hear a voice on the R.T., "Brrrup-brrrup! Bail out, Smiler, you've just been shot down." - The one I really enjoyed dog -fighting with was a tiny Hindu called Beri. He was the most terrified fighter pilot I ever met. He should never have been forced ( pride? family tradition?) into attempting to be one. He was the only one of the lot of us who was scared out of his wits and had enough sense to admit it. We'd go up to practise close formation flying. If you were young and stupid, you did it as tight as possible — your wing tuck- ed right under the other guy's. As soon as I got within 50 yards of Beri, he'd squeal, "Smiley, you crazy; .don't get so close," and would veer off until there was a good 500 yards between us. We were all going hell -for -leather to become Spit pilots, however, and to this day I don't know why. If you graduated, your chances of survival were very slim. If you didn't, you had been killed in a train- ing accident, or were relegated to some flying job where you could do the least harm to the fewest people, including yourself. And yet we were all dead keen to make the grade. Don't ask me what it was. Male ego? Wanting to be part of a special group? Try- ing to prove something to ourselves? It was something about as bright as a gang of senior citizens taking part in wheelchair races, with no rules. And now we're senior citizens, those few left, and we don't seem to have increased in the brains department. I hope that Ryan remembers enough navigation to get us into the right lake, where the muskies and bass are as numerous as minnows. I'm sure the Festival people wondered what was happening, but at this time of year that seems to be my most frequently called number in Blyth. Anyway, please contact Sheron at 523- 9204. + + Continuing this week is my eligible bachelors series, gleaned from the Clinton New Era, 1883. In profile this week is Mr. William Coats 3r. "Was born in New York State on August 31, 1856 and will consequently be 27 years old. "Will does not come up to the standard height, but makes up for it in breadth and weight. Some people would say he was handsome, but a good many would only ad- mit that he was passable. • He was for a number of years a com- mercial traveller, and there was no more popular boy on the road. He has the knack for telling a good yarn, which makes one Laugh, even if he don't want to. At present he is the junior partner of the firrn R. Coats and Son, of this town and is looked upon as one of the corning men. He wears a moustache, which is dif- ficult to distinguish from a daub of paint, but it may'flourish yet. He is a grit in politics and does not let his light shine under a bushel. He is also treasurer of the Presbyterian Church. We don't know Will's matrimonial in- tentions, but we do not believe he will be a bachelor long. He lives at home on the Bayfield Road and runs a garden, a horse, a lantern in dark weather and a mysterious tim pail." Stay tuned next week for more mar- riageable and notable men from 100 years ago. + + Cecil and Lois Elliott of Clinton visited recently in B.C. with Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Elliott and family at Courtney, Vancouver island; Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Merrill, Van- couver; Mr. Brian Merrill, Abbotsford. Lois remained in Vancouver to attend the 17th Triennial Conference of the Associated Country Women of the World, which was held from June 19 to 29. 4 + + + Recently you'll have received in the mail a Canada Post brochure about dog bites and postal carriers. In New York City, no one it seems is im- mune from bites. It turns out that 14,905 people were bitten seriously enough in 1981 to report it to the authorities. Dogs led the way, being blamed for 12,001 bites. Second place, surprisingly, went to humans, who were blamed for 1,557 bites in 1981. Further down in the list were cats, rats, squirrels, hamsters, horses, snakes and seven parrots. Postal carriers should consider themselves lucky' the rea ders write letters Se 'u:' of car sends out invitation Dear Editor: This is an invitation for you ... to come to visit me. YES, me, 15089! Do you remember Oct. 22, which was on- ly a few short months ago, when you took pictures of me arriving in Clinton? The children sang to me, about how they would buy me new paint and nice new windows ... but I couldn't believe that the people of Clinton would really like me ... And the people at Clinton have changed me com- pletely so that now I fly my two flags SO very proudly! My best friend is the beautiful hammer that belongs to a gentleman called Ron Young ... but I have SO many friends in the background. Without all their generous donations, there would be no material for this hammer to work with ... When you visit me, you can choose a place to sit ... perhaps the green grass, a lawn chair, one of the many picnic tables, or even a desk - (I have THREE of these most important things) ! Every day is so exciting because of all the beautiful presents I receive. Before my new paint was all on one side, I was given my own spotlight! Then came inside electric lights! The new Information Booth gives tourists a picture of me - with a map! You just cannot believe how wonderful it feels to be "on a map" again ... and every visitor repeats that lovely word - "restora- tion". I was very fond of my northern caretaker ... and really glad that he could not see the way that I arrived in Clinton. But now I am so. sorry that he cannot see me now, because he would certainly say in his quiet way, "Thank you", CLINTON, and all our friends ... Sincerely, 15089 (CLINTON'S School on Wheels) Pop problems Dear Editor: On Friday, July 1, 1983, I purchased three bottleof pepsi from the C & E Varie- ty, Charlie gess, proprietor was atten- ding custome . Mr. Burgess had a big sign in his front window advertising the sale price of the pop. Upon totalling my order he stated the price was three times what it should have been according to this sign posted. When I pointed the error out to him, he promptly marched to the window, and tore the sign into small pieces. He announced that the sale was over and that I could go elsewhere if I didn't like it. If this is how this man runs his own business, I'm sorry to say that this town is in sad shape if as a councillor he manages town business in the same manner as he runs his store. Joan Burley Clinton Bicentennial heads named for. area Eight Bicentennial coordinators have been appointed to areas in Ontario by the Ministry of Citizenship and Culture, to en- courage communities to celebrate the pro- vince's 200th birthday in 1984. Michael Cavanagh has been named coordinator in the southwest area, which includes the counties of Elgin, Essex, Huron, Kent, Larnbton, Middlesex, Oxford and Perth. The coordinators will assist in develop- ing local Bicentennial committees as well as act as a liaison between the com- munities and the Ontario government. They will be able to provide information regarding grants and other bicentennial programs throughout the province. In ad- dition, these area representatives will be encouraging organizations and com- munities to coordinate their activities to prevent overlapping of events. "l'he Bicentennrat tneme, Ceiebrating Together, depicts exactly what we are try- ing to do," says the Honourable Susan Fish, Minister of Citizenship and Culture. "Every community will have the oppor- tunity to celebrate its heritage. We want everyone to join in saluting the lives and achievements of those who have made each community great, and therefore, this province great." Mr. Cavanagh can be contactd in London at(519)438-2947. Happiness Happiness is something we can't define, But feeling it sets our hearts to shine, The more of it comes back to stay. It doesn't depend on monied positions, Or on good or bad situations, Happiness is what happens imide, And love to no one is ever denied. True Happiness comes when we're at one, With God our Father and Christ His son, We live in Spirit, joyful and free, Happiness is here, eternally. Do you halve an opinion? Why not write us a letter to the editor, and 11,1 ereryone.lrnow. 411 letters are published, prol'iding they can he authenticated, and pseudonyms are allowed. ,411 letters, however, are subject to editing for length or lihel.