HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Goderich Signal-Star, 1981-05-13, Page 4PAGE 4—GODERlrH SIGNAL -STAR, WEDNESDAY, MAY 13,1981
dave
sykes
I can relate to hard luck stories and easily
empathize with people of the Charlie Brown
mold.
Perhaps becuase my own life story could
probably prompt a wide grin from the af-
fable Peanuts character. But things are
tough all over, right?
The interesting thing about sad tales is
that it takes a darn good bit of pathos to
extract sympathy from others. Everyone
has their own tale of woe that, in their own
mind, precludes all the disasters known to
man.
I seem to be natural prey for fall guy
situations and suspect my easy-going
personality advertises that vulnerability. 1
mean I actually have faith that the Toronto
Argonauts will win a football game or two,
sneak into the playoffs and leave all other
Canadian football teams humbly snivelling
in their devastating wake.
BLUE
RIBBON
AWARD
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Mandoes not live by reality alone my
friends.
Even as a child, I suffered under the
misconception that the Toronto Maple Leafs
were a hockey team. That was until I was
old enough to actually stay up and watch
them play another hockey team. In those
prehistoric times, Ward Cornell and Murray
Westgate didn't grace our screens until"
p.m on bath night.
As the evidence would indicate, I have a
propensity for backing losers and it leads to
a nagging suspicion that the loser image is a,
reflection of my personality. Now don't be so
quick to agree.
But I contend that most people can relate
to others misfortunes, although somewhat
reticent to relent to the admission that there
is a bit of loser in all of us. Everyone has
conceded to being an underdog or at least
cheered wildly for the little guy.
A story in the daily press last week
brought much warmth to my heart, tor there
are people out there in the worldly jungle,
with problems of great magnitude.
Problems that seem to lessen the severity of
my own day to day troubles.
To the point of the matter, a fellow in
Oshawa was most proud of the meticulous
condition of his 1972 model Rambler,
complete with air conditioning and vinyl
roof, Admittedly there is an affectionate
bond between man and machine and Keith
McGuigan was no exception.
Keith groomed his trusty Rambler into
fine condition and only required a door latch
to put the finishing touches on an outdated
machine.
So McGuigan sought this particular door
latch at a wrecking yard to complete the
Rambler reconstruction. And he was in luck
too. After careful scrutiny -of several old
wrecks, he found the latch to compliment his
door hardware and happily wandered bad .
to his parked prize.
But, as is wont to happen to fellows of the
losing persuasion, McGuigan's car had been
reduced to a neat, compact pile of iron, glass
and vinyl in a 10 -inch pile.
Something that could easily be carried
home in the 12 -pack fashion.
So while, he had finally secured the elusive
door Iatch, McGuigan had no car to attach
the darn thing to. Apparently he had parked
in a restricted area of the wrecking yard,
and employees took it upon themselves to
reduce his Rambler to a neat pile of metal
scrap. His licence plates were spared the
clutches of the metal crusher but it was of
little consolation to the despondent owner.
I only offer the sad tale in complacency, to
point out that other people have their bad
days. And it is consoling to drag other into
my own depths of despair.
Now I could tell you a story about....
FOR BUSINESS OR EDITORIAL OFFICES please phone (519) 524-8331
Where will rates end
Where will it ends Consumers, homeowners, taxpayers
andthese
may be beating their heads againstthe
wall there days with the propsect of infinite spiralling
interest rates.
The numbers aren't optimistic, whether they represent
costs, taxes, interest rates, debts or whatever. Each day
they are climbing.
Last week interest rates on consumer loans, mortgages
and bank deposits established records with conventional
loan rates soaring as high as 22 per cent and mortgage
rates quoted at 18 per cent at some banks.
There may not be any relief. As long as inflation stays
high, the rates will continue to push upward. In fact the
rates could go as high as 25 per cent in the near future.
One economist predicted that the days of the 8 and 10
per cent mortgage are gone forever. An eight per cent
mortgage is now just a fond memory for most people.
But as long as Canadians continue to borrow money, the
rates will spiral. The banking world is probably astounded
that people are still borrowing money, and have obligingly
raised interest rates on savings accounts to about 15 per
cent to keep the flow of funds steady for investment
purposes.
Canada is a credit nation and while our prices may not
reflect those of other countries, our debt load is second to
none. Canadians are billions of dollars in debt without
including mortgages.
The debt load is staggering considering the rate of in-
terest today. Yet people think nothing of rattling off
purchases on credit cards and paying interest in the 24
w
cent neighbourhood. If the rates go up,the monthly
payment is the same for the consumer, but the debt is just
stretched out over a longer period of time.,
Credit is necessary way of life. Many items that used to
bought with cash now have to be put on credit. It is con-
venient and the interest rate doesn't hurt as much in small
monthly doses. .
Credit is less a matter of choice these days than
necessity. Purchases such as tires for the car or a washer
were once paid for at the store but now monthly payments
are easier to handle even if the interest is quite high.
As long as Canadians demand the convenience of credit,
it will be there with inflated rates. Many low income
families simply can't handle one payment on products and
the credit line is simply extended.
The poor carry a large debt load in this country, in some
cases as much as four times their income. In 1977 for
people earning between $11,000 and $25,000, the average
debt was almost$15,000.
There is problems on both sides of this issue. Both with
consumers and the credit granting industry. Canadians
must first realize that credit is not to be taken lightly.
Sometimes: buy novlpay later is simply a euphemism for
large debts. D.S.
Welcome to new Kinsmen
Service clubs play a vital role in the .development of a
community and the contribution of service clubs in
Goderich is most evident.
The town of Goderich can boast of a fine complement of
service groups for both men and women and their efforts
have assisted 1n many worthwhile and deserving projects.
They fill a definite need in every community and are
essential for progress and development.
The area has the pleasure of welcoming a new club to ,
the fold this week after the Dungannon Kinsmen Club
received its official charter Saturday from District 1
Governor Grant Burgerner of Cayuga, Ontario.
The formation of the dub was initiated by members of
the Goderich Kinsmen and their diligent efforts resulted
in 20 men accepting the Kinsmen charter for the
1 haven't decided whether to title this
week's offerings "Little Boys Are Not
Human" or "Mothers Have It Rough".
Let me qualify these highly controversial
statements. Little boys in quantities of one
are not hard to get along with. But take
three of the species whose combined height
is less than ten feet and you have a zoo. The
mother of a group such as this has it un-
deniably rough.
I know. I was the zookeeper last weekend.
Given that Sunday was Mother's Day, the
mother in question grabbed the given and
took off - so to speak. The father in question
went with her and I was given the keys to the
zoo which included one six-year-old, one
nearly -three-year-old, one 15 -month-old, one
large dog, and my own cat.
5 p.m. Saturday: parents sneak out door,
but do not escape watchful eye of youngest
son who commences to scream bloody
murder at the 'unfairness of life and
mothers. He refuses delicious supper of
Kraft Dinner.
Dungannon area. Gerry Paolin of the Goderich said there
was a need for a service group north of Goderich and the
rural community answered the call.
The Dungannon Kinsmen Club will serve an area
bounded by Kingsbridge, Port Albert, Nile and
Dungannon. The new club is screening several potential
service projects in their area and their efforts will un-
doubtedly be a great asset to the rural communities.
The 20 club members accepted their charter with great
fervor and enthusiasm and hopefully that dedication will
be channelled into many worhty projects. and be main-
tained for many years.
The Dungannon and area will be well served by the
Kinsmen Club as long it has theupport of the communities
it serves. D.S.
6 p.m. Saturday: youngest has forgotten
parents' existence and is happily feeding
cold sticky Kraft Dinner to Tess the Cat and
often throwing noodles against the wall.
Oldest son is creating a supper of unknown
origin. Middle son is washing his hands, the
bathroom sink, the floor, walls, etc.
7 p.m. Saturday: two oldest boys are
fighting over a Tonka truck. The younger is
winning. The older's pride is injured. The
youngest is practicing new-found ability to
climb the stairs and fall down them.
7.30 p.m Saturday: two youngest boys are
in bathtub with assorted toys. The older hits
the younger over the head with a plastic
alligator. The younger decides he is clean
enough and submits to diapers and jam-
mies.
8:00 p.m. Saturday: youngest in bed,
oldest flaked out in front of TV, middle son
announces he has a hurting tummy. He is
given a pink aspirin and a hug.
9 p.m. Saturday: storytime. Boys fight
4
Rains of life
DEAR
BY SHIRLEY J. KELLER
by Cath Wooden
READERS
What causes your most depressing moments?
That's an age old question, I know, because if
you could actually put your finger on the cause of
your depression, you could more easily remove
some of the depression from your life. At least
that's the way it is supposed to work.
For most of us though, the weather is by far the
Most common depressor. And as I look out my
window today to see yet another day of cloud and
rain, my spirits dip to a new low ebb.
While having lunch with my husband today, I
claimed that this is a day to turn on all the lights
in the house, put some lively music on the stereo
and bake some wildly extravagant cookies.
"There's nothing like a happy home and the
smell of home baking to cheer up the unhappy," I
told him.
Everywhere I go today I hear people crabbing
at each other. There aren't many sunny smiles
and folks are truly making an effort to get
through the day. That in itself is depressing.
There's nothing much you can do about the
weather. It was my clever mother who used to
say, "We're going to have weather whether or
not." I've learned she was absolutely right about
that. I don't try to fight it.
But just as I have finally learned to cope with
the whims of the weatherman, there's a new
public depressor.
Strictly speaking, I suppose, one would have to
say the "press" isn't new. It has been around,for
centuries in fact.
But today's "press" is everywhere. It comes to
you via your daily or weekly newspaper, your
radio and your television.
over which books to read. They agree on the
two longest ones they have (The Cat in the
Hat and The Cat in the Hat Comes Back).
They insist the light be left on and the door
be left open.
10p.m. Saturday: house is quiet except for
large barking dog outside whose supper has
been forgotten: I fall asleep in front of
hockey game.
11:30 p.m. Saturday: middle boy cries out
in a loud way after he has become sick in
bed. Being of a very weak constitution, 1
gather up the Sesame Street bedclothes and
dump them in laundry room. Middle boy
falls asleep on new bedding feeling much
better. I don't feel too great.
12:30 a.m. Sunday: house is quiet except
for a strange noise coming from the heat
ducts. It turns out to be the cat who has
discovered it is a great place to march
around. I plead with her to come out.
3 a.m. Sunday: parents arrive home and
find several descriptive notes from me as to
health and happiness of zoo.
It rides to work with you in your car, and it
makes you more irritable with every mile you
drive.
It comes to you with your breakfast each
morning and spoils your digestion for the entire
day.
It bombards you in your own livingroom or
bedroom and in public diningrooms, hotels,
camp grounds, banks, service stations ....
everywhere.
There's no escape from it. It is a kind of om-
nipresent love -hate situation. The trouble is,
most people have no understanding of the
limitations of the "press" and no immunity to
the barrage of gut -wrenching messages it sends
out time and time again.
Take the Bobby Sands story. Now that was a
thriller wasn't it. A whole generation of kids
were eating their supper every night with the
ghastly details of what it is like to die of star-
vation. Blindness. Constant pain. Disfigurement.
Or how about the El Salvador tales. Bloody
nuns. Riots. Hatred. Nice stuff to take just before
bedtime.
Not long ago, it was the assassination attempt
on the life of the president in the United States.
The full gory details of Ronald Reagan's brush
with a crazed gunman flashed into our homes
and cars and businesses. People were glued to
their televison sets, unable to tear themselves
away from history in the making.
I know one man who gets so upset when he
reads the evening paper he actually loses control
of his composure. His wife will tell you he balls
the newspaper up and throws it as far as he can
across the livingroom.
"Aren't there any normal people left in the
world?" he exclaims night after night.
8 a.m. Sunday: middle son awakens
brightly and noisily. Youngest son awakens
brightly, noisily, and with dirty diapers.
They are clothed and fed after several
conflicts over who gets the most attention.
Oldest boy then awakens and creates break-
fast of unknown origin after seeing a Corn
Flakes commerc ial.
10 a.m. Sunday: I am trying to keep house
quiet for sleeping parents upstairs. Children
cannot go outside due to rain. We pile in car
for a drive to feed animals in Holmesville.
Each Is given some bread to feed the ducks
and deer. Youngest elects to eat bread
himself.
11:30 a.m. Sunday: we arrive home to find
parents lounging about drinking coffee with
euphoric looks on their faces.
After being keeper of the flock for that
short period of time, I cannot fathom how
the flock's mother can possibly keep up that
pace day after day. I am dumbfounded. My
hat is off to her.
There is no wonder that people are depressed.
Every hour on the hour we hear about the latest
strikes, unemployment figures, higher interest
rates, lowered living standards, traffic ac-
cidents, environmental atrocities. You name it.
Chances are you've heard it or read it in the last
day or two.
And how do you deal with it?
Take it from me, ladies and gentlemen. The
people who gather the news and write it for your
edification are just ordinary people like anyone
else you know. They aren't gods. They aren't
infallible. They aren't possessed of special
powers to predict the future.
Keep this in mind the next time you read a
what is to you a shocking story in your
newspaper. Or hear an expose on radio. Or
watch some nuts performing on your television.
The reporters are only people like you and like
me. The events they report have happened,
that's true. But their own personal observations
and impressions are only that - their own. And
while they have "the power of the press" behind
them and a way with words andpictures and
sounds, they needn't strike terror in your heart.
Simply hear them - think about what they say if
you like but always take time to sift through
and discard fact from opinion. •
Keep your head about you and some distance
between you and the media. Don't let the
"press" control your emotions, your thoughts,
your dreams. -
Remember that old wise prayer. "Lord, give
me the courage to change those things I can
change and accept those things I cannot change.
And give me the wisdom, Lord, to know the
difference."
cath
wooden
1