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The Huron Expositor, 1985-08-14, Page 2EEHuron • x ositor SINCE 1860, SERVING THE COMMUNITY FIRST BLUE RIBBON AWARD 1985 HEATHER McILWRAITH, Editor Incorporating Brussels Post 10 Main Street 527-0240 Published in SEAFORTH, ONTARIO Every Wednesday morning The Expositor is brought to you each week by the efforts of: Pat Armes, Bessie Broome, Marlene Charters, Joan Guicheiaar, Gary Heist, Anne Huff, Joanne Jewitt, Stephanie Levesque, Dianne McGrath, Lois McLlwaln, Bob McMillan, Cathy Melady, Larry Till and Steve Walters. Member Canadian Community Newspaper Assoc. Ontario Community Newspaper Association ti9 Ontario Press Council Commonwealth Press Union �— international Press Institute Subscription rates: Canada $18.75 a year (In advance) Outside Canada $56.00 a year (in advance) Single Copies - 50 cents each SEAFORTH, ONTARIO, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1985 Second class mail registration Number 0696 Advertising Is accepted on the condition that in the event of a typographical error the advertising space occupied by the erroneous item, together with reasonable allowance for signature, will not be chirped for but • the balance of the advertisement will be paid for at the applicable rate. While every effort will be made to Insure they are handled with care, the publishers cannot be responsible for the return al unsolicited manuscripts or photos. Interest program pretty good The Liberals have done something that will shock most thinking Ontarians: They actually kept an election promise. After two generations of Conservatives who only kept their promises during periods of minority government (and even then only under the force of sheer necessity), residents of this province had become jaded. Now, with a fresh administration in office, we're faced with the dilemma of a government which does what it says, and not knowing what to do about it. During the spring election, the Liberals said they would move quickly. to help farmers once in office. They presented potential programs of aid, stabilization and legislation, which, although not perfect in many respects, still moved in some small way to ease the plight of our agricultural industries. Now they've made good. Last week, Agriculture Minister Jack Riddell announced a program of interest rate subsidies for farmers confronted by the threat of huge charges for the money they need to borrow to continue their operations. if nothing else, the Ontario Family Farm interest Rate program, or OFFIR, is a politically shrewd document. Aware many farmers are less than thrilled with the idea of government intervention in the economy, Mr. Riddell designed a piece of legislation which helps them without intruding on their freedom to conduct business the way they see fit. There are those who have criticized it for not being tough enough, and others who say there should have been more money made available. What that means is it's probably pretty good: Rule One of politics is if you're criticized from both sides, it's likely you're doing your job properly. The Liberals have set aside a surprisingly hefty $50 million for OFFIR. That should be enough to help those who really need it, while preventing the widespread abuse so common to universal social programs. Mr. Riddell has said this Is a "one-shot," emergency measure deal. It only applies to the first $200,000 of existing debt, along with other strictly controlled criteria. Whether that will effect any kind of long-term improvement in the farming sector, only time will tell. — L.T. Flag thefts unpatriotic Some might call it patriotism. But the recent thefts in town are not the least bit patriotic. Seaforth offices and businesses have been the victim of a person or persons bent on degrading the patriotism of all Canadians. To date six flags have been stolen from flagpoles on the Main Street. The most recent victim of this somewhat childish theft has been the Seaforth Legion. Last week they had three flags, the Canadian, Ontario and Jubilee, valued at $77 stolen from their building and the flagpole broken in the process. In an earlier incident the town hall was relieved of its Canadian, Provincial and town flags, valued at $108. There are some who might not think flags, valued at a total of $185, are a great loss, or at least worthy of prolonged mention. But the mind -set of the thief or thieves certainly makes one wonder what the world is coming to, or what stage it has already reached. One has to consider the implication such thefts, and they are thefts, has, and just what reasoning and excuse there is for it. Certainly the removal of such objects are a ritual at this time of year. More flags and such are stolen in late summer and early fall, often spurred out of a need by'students to find suitable decor for their apartments away from home during the college months. The stolen flags no doubt add a touch of class to an otherwise drab student apartment. But what one might not consider is that the very purpose of the flag is lost when it is out of its habitat. Its very essence (patriotism) is muddied because of theft of the flag itself represents a total lack of respect not just of the object but the institute it represents. H.M. FEEL THE HEAT — The dog days of summer are upon us. Those lucky enough to have a swimming pool are revelling in comfort. The rest of us can Just smile and sweat it out. To help keep you cool on these sweltering August nights, the Expositor offers this reminder of what Seaforth will look like within about 10 weeks. (Anne Narejko photo) Profit not a "dirty word" "Profit is not a dirty word." During the idealistic sixties and seventies it was almost a plea on the part of businessmen who felt bruised and abused by government and the general public. Today it sounds more like a war cry. Profit is not a dirty word. Profit is, in many cases, the wage of the self-employed businessman. Just as workers have a right to expect a decent living wage, the businessman has a right to a decent profit. While we have legislation to protect the working man we have no guarantee to the farmers, the shop -keeper, the restaurant owner, that they will have a decent living so they can make a living. Farmers, in particular, are squeezed by falling prices and rising costs until many can't make a living, even if they also work off the farm. On the other hand when does a "fair profit" become greed. Greed is a word that isn't used much these days. It was overworked in charges made against busi- ness particularly during the rebellious sixties when one was almost embarrassed to say they worked in business. Greed isn't limited to businessmen of course. Greed was just as strong on the part of organized labor unions for a period when workers demanded they should continue to get wage increases greater than the cost of living increase even when the businesses they worked for were in trouble. BEHIND THE SCENES by Keith Roulston But the changing attitude of the 1980's sees business, particularly big business, in a more secure position than ever. They are not just halting the wage spiral in many cases, they are demanding workers take less, even while profits in some cases are reaching record highs. in some quarters invoking the word "profit" excuses any behavior. Listening to a televised debate on the violent American film Rambo recently I was struck by the simple explanation used by,a spokesman for the film makers. While some of the -participants worried about what these films, which showed a muscle-bound American single- handedly defeating the Russian and Viet- namese armies, was doing to the American psyche, the film makers representative swept the arguments aside saying that the film makers after all were just out to make a profit. The irony is that while much of the new -right movement, particularly in the U.S., is very "born again" religious, there seems to be a feeling on the part of some businessmen that morality has no place in business. In fact when the Catholic bishops in Canada expressed their feelings on business last year they were told by Canadian business to mind their own business; religion and business didn't mix. Yet if profit justifies anything isn't the maker of pornographic films just as legiti- mate a businessman as the Hollywood film maker? Isn't the Mafia dealer in prostitution just as praiseworthy as the printer of Bibles? Some of the most prominent families in Britain and the United States today owe their family fortunes to the opium trade of the last century. Western businessmen introduced opium to China, got the local population dependent on the drug, then made fortunes supplying the demand. They eventually led to hatred of Westerners by the Chinese and the Communist R Profit is not a dirtyevolution. word but profit without morality is a ticking timebomb which will eventually explode in the faces of all involved. Law punishes the 'innocent He claimed he didn't do it. The charge was for a minor offense under the province's highway laws. The fine was not really that big. My friend was very angry. The problem my friend was experiencing, was that he could not afford to be innocent. Because of the way our courts administer charges for minor traffic offenses,. it is much less expensive to plead guilty even if you are innocent. In many cases, to enter a plea of guilty a person need only sign the appropriate space on the ticket and return it. A cheque for the amount indicated will cover the fine. If it is for a minor offense that will be the total cost. If the poor driver is innocent of the charge and wants to fight the ticket, things become a little more complicated. He will have to appear in court at least once. This will cost him his wages for one or more days. There is also the matter of the inconvenience and cost of transportation. As the person prosecuting the driver is a paid professional, it is wise to have an attorney present. Of course, this will also cost a few hundred dollars. A driver who is innocent knows if he goes to court and fights he will have to pay more than if he simply enters a guilty plea. There is still no guarantee he will be acquitted. If he is convicted it is even more expensive. It is simply good business to enter guilty pleas and pay the fine regardless of innocence or guilt. My friend is a good COUNTRY CORNER by Larry Dillon businessman. He paid the fine. He is however, very angry. His comments about the policeman involved were not very flattering. I can understand his anger. If we accept he is not guilty, a grave injustice has been done. My friend has been punished for his innocence. If he had dared to fight the charge he would have been punished more severely. The legal system, in this case, is actually less severe on a man who is guilty and admits it than it is on a man who is innocent and says so I think this situation puts the poor policeman in a very difficult situation. Rather than doing just his own job he is forced by circumstances to be policeman, judge, and jury. He knows if he issues a ticket for any minor highway offense, the driver is punished. The policeman must do what he thinks is best, but he can make mistakes. Policemen are human. They can make errors in judgment just as easily as the rest of us. There may also be a very small minority in the profession who will abuse their responsi- bility. it is inevitable at least a few of the tickets issued are unfair. innocent people can be charged and perhaps my friend was one of them. The reason the innocent is inadvertent- ly punished more severely than the guilty is it is inconvenient for the courts and the police departments to deal with them. The system was designed to ease the difficulty exper- ienced by the majority of drivers who want to plead guilty and pay their fines There was no intent ion to punish that small minority who are innocent it just worked out that way. Most police officers are out there trying to make our roads safer. Because the, legal system lacks safeguards for the innocent many drivers fear them and avoid them. They hesitate to cooperate with policemen because they know there is the possibility they too could be charged. The problem is made worse by people who are guilty and claim, after paying the fine, they are innocent. They can say they paid only to save money This causes unfair rumors about excessive police enforcement. The province has instituted a new policing (Continued on page A131 Roughing it in the bush Little old Susannah Moodie, the gentle, iron -hearted, misplaced English -woman, whose diaries have become the touchstone of Canadian literature, the archetype of survival in the Canadian wilderness. She wrote the title of this piece. She was about as Canadian as my great -great -great grandfather, who was digging peat and potatoes about the time she composed her literary masterpieces. And about as Canadian as Frederick Philip Grove, a Finn, Swede, German - take your pick - who wrote interminable stories about mow, after he moved - or escaped - to Canada. Everyone, except me, begins his or her Cantit course with those two. They're dull, after a taste or two. But poor little old Susie's scenario would have crumpled into wept -over ashes if she'd gone along with me on a recent "roughing it" weekend. True, there was bush. True, there were some weird characters about. True, the flies and skeeters were hostile. But roughing it? She'd have torn up her manuscripts and got on with making bread or maple syrup or digging a new backhouse; or whatever turned her crank. The roughest part of the trip was fighting the holiday traffic. The second roughest part was listening to ,non-stop stories about deer that were shot at 600 yards, bear that were 12 feet tall, and giant fish that required three men and a block and tackle to get them aboard. Yes, i went on a fishing weekend, as i threatened in an earlier column. Boys oh boys, it was rough. Drove 60 miles. Flew 20 minutes. Camp had a fridge with ice cubes, hot and cold running water, a propane cook stove, and - you won't believe this - a carpet sweeper. The only concession to the primitive was an outdoors john, and even this had a touch of SUGAR AND SPICE by Bill Smiley the exotic; a wild rose growing between the two seats. Night before I left, one of "the boys" phoned and told me to bring some heavy line, because the muskies were moving in and gobbling up those five -pound bass. I might as well have taken a piece of cotton thread from a sewing machine. Now, I'm not knocking it. I had a fine weekend. But it's a bit much when you have to keep moving your feet because someone wants to clean the carpet under them. And it's entirely too much when you see guys washing their armpits, at a hunting camp, in hot water. Last time I was at a hunt camp, the only thing we ever washed were our hands, and sometimes our feet, when we fell in the lake. I was expecting to rough it, and contemplated that the food would be camp food, mostly canned stew and stuff. Expected to eat some fish. Know what we had for dinner, first night? Young, tender leg of lamb, and not that frozen stuff. With mint sauce naturally. Fresh young carrots and potatoes. Dessert. Wine with dinner. Second night was pretty ordinary. Just two pork chops each, with apple sauce, and again, fresh vegetables. Arid wine. And it wasn't just thrown on the table. The cooks served you at your place. All you had to do was push your wine glass or coffee cup past a big, hairy arm, and it was filled immediately. Roughing it! Lunches were pretty rudimentary, though, and by the second day I was getting sore that I had to make my own. There was nothing but sardines, tuna, cold lamb, ham, and Eight pounds of salad, plus Campbell's soup du jour and fruit salad, with a bit of old dieese to top off. Breakfasts were sparse. however. A mere four cups of coffee, three eggs, half a pound of bacon, and a big portion of fried spuds, plus toast and the best home-made marmalade in North America. Nobody was able to fish until mid-day, by which time the bass had also eaten and were sulking in the depths. Certainly didn't get sick of eating fish. Seven of us caught two smallish bass, just before the plane arrived to fly us out. T know it sounds like a weekend at a big, rich resort. But it wasn't. The moment I arrived, I began to feel uneasy. And my feeling grew. These other guys weren't there to fish. They were there to work getting the camp ready for the fall hunting season. To the great dismay of myself and Mother guest. the regulars pulled out paint brushes, lawn mowers and other such horrors of civilization, and went to work. They painted and piled wood and slashed underbrush, and generally did so much manual labor they'd have all been on strike if asked to do so at home. The other old fighter pilot and I retreated into the kitchen and did the dishes. My hands are still all shrivelled up from doing dishes. Aside from that, I came home in pretty good shape. I thought I'd gained at least eight pounds, but the deer flies and skeeters took care of that. I lost two. My arthritic foot is destroyed for the summer. I've lost the hearing in my right ear from trying to clout a mosquito with my left hand, while holding a five -gallon can of gas in it, and my fishing tackle in my right hand. But that was nothing, compared to the evening poker games, in which everything is wild except the joker.