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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1983-07-20, Page 2• r2 ht' r «!xpaitoi'— ShW (eeo„Serving,the Con'Immyn(ty first incorporatlnf a3PUSSiOS Pot founded 1872 12 Maln St. Cplintion 527-0240 Published at SEAFORTH, ONTARIO every Wednesday morning Susan White, Managing Editor Jocolyn.►..Stirler, Publisher Member Canadiai community Newspaper Association, Ontario Community Newspaper Association and Audit Bureau of Circulation A mer tber of the Ontario Press Council Subscription rates: Canada S17.75 ayear (in advance) outside Canada $60. a year (in advance) Single Copies - 50 cents each • ast fr�S FROt3 JUMPING was She moat popular event during the Walton Hay Day on Saturday. The winning frog was actually, a toad named Wlerd Harold. His owner Io Jerry Nelemane, right. Les Hudle and his frog Charlie, far left, placed second. Michael Warwick coaxed his frog by prodding It. Others trled blowing on their ateeds to get them to move. (Photos by Wasalnk) E SEAFORTH, ONTARIO, WEDNESDAY, JULY 20, 1083 Second class mail registration number 0696 Time for action The experts are telling us. Ordinary Seaforth citizens are telling us. Executive members of a group that wants to make Seaforth green and beautiful are telling us. Take a walk, and your own eyes will tell you to join the chorus. Seaforth's Main Street needs help. It offers little in the way of trees, flowers, grass, places to sit or even rest for the eyes. It's hard edged and de(iending on the season, either hot and uninviting or cold and uninviting. It's not relaxing, or welcoming, and if you drive through town on Highway 8, there's nothing on the main corner to lure you downtown for a look around. Merchants here have been talking about the need on that corner for years. When everyone from the Horticultural Society to the BIA, LACAC and recreation consultants agrees that our downtown should be a place where people want to spend time, there should be no difficulty getting some action to improve things. To avoid duplication, backbiting and working at cross purposes (that happens as easily in -a town of 2,000 as in a city of 2 million), some leadership is needed. And we agree with the Horticultural Society that leadership and initiative for beautifying Seaforth's public places, beginning downtown, must come from the council. Seaforth doesn't have a parks department. We've long relied on volunteers in areas that other towns make municipal responsibility; Main St. plantings, for example. We sense volunteers are getting a little tired, feeling a little taken for granted. That's understandable when in addition to apparent indifference, their efforts are met with vandalism. We think you'd be hard pressed in a quick.Main St. survey to find anyone who thinks the downtown is as green and inviting as say, Clinton, Exeter or Hensall. We expect the applause to be long and loud when council, or at least its transportation and environment committee, meets with concerned groups and works out a plan to tackle Seaforth's beautification needs. The plan needn't be costly, or perform miracles in one year. It's co-ordination and Ieadei-ship that's needed. Thanks to a push or a prod from the Horticultural Society, co-ordination and leadership is what we are at last going to get. A Seaforth citizen who cares about how our town looks stays council members need to know "they're expected to do something and that people in town want them to do something."' Council faces a number of important issues now. In comments, calls, letters wecan letthem know we want to make downtown Seaforth a better place, a beautiful place to get some priority. - -S.W. We are all responsible Individual responsibility. Big words, but simple ones really, ones that absolutely have to have meaning in a democratic society. When individuals take responsibility, they ask questions. Naturally hey seek expert advice; no ordinary citizen can be an expert on the complic ted questions local government faces. But the advice comes from many so ces. The ordinary citizen weighs it and then comes up with her or his d cision. The complicated questions facing the Seaforth area right now ar many. A number of people in the community object to an Individual's r quest for relief from a planning requirement. To the individual it's a sm II simple thing, but objectors'feel the impact on their neighbourhood will be a tensive. Who's right? Well in this case, the committee of adjustment, accepting the advice of Huron planning officials, decides the impact is small and awards a minor variance. Two neighbours object and appeal the decision. The outcome is up in the air, but by objecting, the neighbours are taking individual responsibility to fight something they think will not benefit the community. In a democracy that's their right. For democracy to work, it's not good enough to automatically accept authority or expert opinion. In another case, town council is approached to beautify Main St. Individuals issued a challenge, took personal responsibility for how our town looks and council took them up on it. But not without some attempts to pass the buck to other Seaforth groups. Higher levels of government say they are concerned about ordinary people having a say. That's one of the reascns another big issue, the study for the new landfill site has been so detailed and expensive. We agree with a letter to the editor last week that citizens need as much information about alternatives as possible to make a good decision. It's not enough to trust totally in engineers' expert opinions. Trust is built on information and on the assurance that information gathering has been complete, not just "going through the motions." In all three of these issues we do not see elected representatives asking many questions. In some cases they seem instead to be seeking assurance that "it's not our responsibility, Is it? Granted it can be intimidating to wade through planning legislation or pounds of scientific studies of a landfill site. It's easier, safer, to accept expert opinion. But we all need to remember that we hire the experts. It's the responsibility of elected representatives and of citizens to constantly bring up local circumstances, to leaven expert opinion with common sense and knowledge of this area and its people. The alternative is to give ourselves over to government by experts. It could be cheaper, in that we'd no longer have to pay elected councils and appointed committees. But the cost to democracy would be high. - S.W. Ciderfest has a new date @diN©at The Van Egmond Foundation is again preparing for its annual Ciderfest. The date has been changed this year to October 1 and 2 so as not to conflict with the Seaforth Fall Fair. We feel this year's Ciderfest will be biner and better than ever. In keeping with our new Canada Community Develop- ment Project, Outreach Artisan, the empha- sis will be on craft demonstrations, including those of a heritage nature. several of our Everybody in town sees our mistakes Well, I'm sleeping a lot easier these days, despite the heat. That's because nobody, not a single solitary soul, took me up on my offer to fork out 55 for the worst (or best) mistake in the paper in June. (1 gave y'all a couple of-_ extra weeks to be siire J' That means, 1 guess, that there weren't too many. The other possibility, that nobody reads, this column and so all the potential critics were unaware of my offer, is too awful to contemplate. No, lets just leave it that whatever mistakes we made were of too little consequence to report. Or that none of my readers needs 55. We don't really believe that. Expositor ic)mu @didimg © Ray ,. by S Jmt Wbfi4Q staff have a short weekly session in which we: go over the week's paper, pointing out areas that need improvement, one upping each other, and once in awhile even awarding a compliment. So we know there are mistakes. At least, as the saying in the news biz goes, we don't hide ours. Everybody in town, and then some, sees our mistakes, while you lucky devils out there keep yours under the counter, out in the shed, on the top shelf or in the back shop. Courtesy of a reader who sees a lot' of Ontario papers, I've got a sampling of others' mistakes though. And I'd like to share them with you. Sure beats flagellating myself and all the wonderful people who work here. The names of the publications don't matter, but in a recent week in three different papers: "sea trials" got reported as "see trails"; "tack", as in sailing, came out "tact", as in polite, and "reeked" as in smells pretty bad was used when the writer meant "wreaked" or inflicted. "Were" "where" and "wear" are often transposed, this reader says and he's even seen ecology stories' . about altering th 3' "coarse' of a stream. It would be nice to confidently assert that such errors have never appeared here. We try; but alas... We are however, eternally vigilant, and willing to take responsibility when that vigilance fails. It's just too bad that none of you could be persuaded to join us. Even with a 55 bribe. It's unpatriotic, but I hate the sun It's downright unpatriotic, I admit. If I were an American I'd be hauled before the House •Committee on Un-American Activi- ties and branded a pinko at (east and more likely a Red. Well I 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 1 spend too long with the refrigerator door open choosing a snack to get I'll get sunburned from the little light at the back. Blame it on my Scottish ancestors as 1 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 1 know I'll do my itching a couple of days after coming home from the beach). in a nation of sunworshippers, 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 atusans have arced to participate. The Foundation wishes to remind the various service clubs and non-profit organi- zations that they are welcome to set up booths or tables at the flea market free of charge. Just call the Van Egmond House at 527-0413 to register. Remember to keep the first weekend of October free so you can enjoy our fall festival. Yours truly Jan Detvecchio Secretary Van Egmond Foundation C3@ and tit@ 20g@n@go b}"/ I Q64b R uhs40O tm tender skin. THE GiRLS 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 worth while spending hours spreading Noxema when 1 got home and peeling off dead skin for the next few days. That was when 1 was a teenager and the beach was the place to be on the weekends because you saw a lot of Os there (not to mention of lot of a lot of girls). You ignored the pain to get the pleasure of maybe meeting one of those gorgeous females, or at least appreciating their attributes so attractively displayed. Now with a wife and four kids, even appreciating can be dangerous to my health. My whole personality has been shaped by my skin. I mean how can you be macho if, when you areNat. tete 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 lies 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 bv. If there aren't trees, you find another beach. SAVING SKIN The secret to saving face (not to mention skin) under the circumstances is to be athletic and head for the water the moment 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 breath. Unfortunately, i dislike water only slightly less 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, 1 married into a family of dolphins. 1 mean these people would swim 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 made 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 heli out of all those bronzed Adonises who have made him feel inferior all this life. But 1 –lust admit 1 remember his words fondly. The hope that maybe my skin will some day be years younger than you people with your glorious tans is what keeps me going to my old age. if 1 don't peel off all- my skin ttrst. Father of five takes us fishing 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. 1 used to work the trout streams fairly regularly, but between acid ram and pesticides flowing into them. they've become almost barren. 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 worrying. "Your fishing tackle is all rusty. What about your arthritis? You haven't anything to wear. 1 suppose you'll all just sit around and drink and tell stories. What'll 1 do while you're away?" 1 think what really gets her is that 1'11 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, 1 age about 10 years for a few weeks. But surely she has nothing tb 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 $1411gi ? and , $pko by ®BUI Salevy chap in trouble. And yet....i do have memories. It's amazing how some friendships are, formed, in such a short time, and last for decades. Jack and I met for the first time at some god -forsaken little English railway station, miles from nowhere, both headed for operational training on Spitfires. 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 occasionally 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 scatteringof Scots, Irish and Brits. We traned 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. 1, to my disgust, was transferredto training for the new Typhoon fighter-bomb- er. Singh 1 hand*. 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. 1 dreaded being paired with Jack Ryan. We'd break off, 1 d look wildly around the sky, see nothing, and suddenly hear a voice on the R.T., "Brrup-brrrup! Bail out, Smiler, you've just been shot down." The one 1 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 thelot of us who was seated 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 tucked right under the other guy's. As soon as 1 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 1 don't know why. If you graduated. your chances of survival were very slim. If you didn't, you had been killed in a training 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? Trying 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. ' 1 hope that Ryan renfembers enpugh navigation to get us into the right lake. where the muskies and bass are as numerous as minnows. m 1- t• 1