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Times-Advocate, 1984-02-22, Page 4Page 4 Times -Advocate, February 22, 1984 Times Established 1873 Advocate Established 1881 Amalgamated 1924 dvcate cp) Serving South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by J.W. Eedy Publications Limited IORNE EUDY Publisher JIM BECKFTT Adrr'rtising Manager BIi 1 BAEITN ROSS HAUGH editor Assistant Editor HARRY DEVRiFS Composition Manager DICK JONGKIND Business Manager Published Each Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario Second Class Mail Registration Number 0386. SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada: $22.00 Per year; U.S.A. $60.00 O.C.N.A. CLASS 'A' and 'ABC' Hensall is alive and well Community spirit is alive and well and living in Hensall. The loss of several stores on Main Street and the threatened closure of their school seem to have drawn village residents together in a common cause - showing everyone Hensall is a pleasant and happy place in which to live. This spirit was much in evidence last week dur- ing Heritage Day, a combined celebration of the pro- vince's bicentennial and Act One of Hensall's 100th bir- thday party. The Community Centre, living up to its name, was the focal point as more than 300 villagers gathered to watch the raising of the provincial bicentennial flag, a Christmas tree bonfire, and the cut- ting of the huge birthday cake, baked by one Hensall resident and cut by two citizens who will each celebrate ninety-first birthdays in 1984. The volunteer firemen cooked hotdogs, fried onions, and dispensed hot cider while members of Hensall BIA prepared and served cups of hot chocolate and coffee. A humorous, well -performed re-enactment of an early 1900's council meeting receivedenthusiasticand deserved applause from the audience.. All this was just a trial run in preparation for the village's four-day birthday bash from June 29 to July 2. The churches, Kinsmen, Kinettes, K-40 Club, Odd - fellows, Rebekahs, Legion and Ladies Auxiliary, other service clubs, the Horticultural Society, the firemen, merchants, sports directors and individual volunteers are all working together to make their village's centen- nial an event to remember. The list of activities in already printed brochures include a fish fry, firemen's breakfasts, pork and beef barbecues, an arts and crafts show and sale, a flea market, dances in the Community Centre and on the street, a band concert, professional entertaiment, a giant parade, historical displays, church services, ball and horseshoe tourneys and picking the winners in the beard -growing contest. Such a cooperative spirit among citizens working together for their mutual benefit guarantees that the village will stay a viable, thriving community for the foreseeable future. How much do we care? The appointment of a review committee to study ways of making better use of South Huron Hospital seems to be an appropriate one. It may surprise you to learn that while London hospitals are overcrowded, with many patients being eased out of their beds to make room for those waiting in line, the local hospital has a bed -occupancy rate of less than 65 percent. So, it does appear residents of the southern end of Huron County need to take a hard look at whether or not the hospital is being fully utilized. The number of people being treated at South Huron's out-patient clinics has doubled in three years. With competent staff and visiting specialists, we are assured the same kind of treatment found in many city hospitals. While this is admirable, out-patients do not fill hospital beds; and that's one of the problems fac- ing the hospital review committee. There is a very real possibility that if the bed - occupancy rate does not improve, government grants could be cut, and we might find ourselves with very reduced hospital services, some day down the line. 0 Perhaps part of the problem could be solved by hav- ing more local patients moved from the overcrowded city hospitals to Exeter for their postroperative recovery or therapy. Better still, why couldn't a team of skilled surgeons be invited to do elective surgery here, two or three days a week, as they used to, a few years back? South Huron Hospital has a lot going for it. Nearly everyone agrees the personal caring that a patient receives there far out -shadows that which is received in the large depersonalized city hospitals. It's much easier for the families, too, not having to drive the 20 -odd miles to London. Last year, the hospital took as its motto, "Thirty Years of Caring", pointing out it had been looking after people for that length of time. Now, the review com- mittee will try to find out how much we care about the hospi.al, and about its services being extended so that it will continue to look after our future health needs. It seems we can n0 longer take South Huron Hospital for granted. The Sadim Syndrome King Midas was given a unique gift. Everything he touched turned to gold. I have been endowed with an unwelcome talent I call the "Sadim Syndrome", or the Midas touch in reverse. Everything I try to do to save money ends up costing twice what it should. For example: After adding water to the dregs of my favourite shampoo last week and finding I still had loads of suds, I bought a large economy -size bottle, poured half, into the newly emptied bottle, and filled each container to within a cen- timeter of the top with water. 1 informed my husband of my clever trick, but forgot to tell our son after he breezed in from Toronto for the weekend. Later that day, 1 decided to wash my hair, and reached for the shampoo. 1 could hardly believe the message scurry- ing along my optic nerve to my brain! There was hardly enough liquid left in the bottle to raise bubbles on Telly Savalas. I stormed into the living room and con- fronted my son, sitting reading in the armchair. The Tight from the floor lamp spilled over his left shoulder, accenting the highlights in his shiny, freshly laundered hair. (A popular song with my generation was the hit from South Pacific "I'm go- ing to wash that man right out of my hair". Our offspring have turned that around and shampoo their hair so often they seem determined to wash the hair right out of the man.) 4 "What happened to the shampoo", I. raged. "This bottle was full yesterday!" "You tell me what happend to it", my son countered. "I started to pour some in- to my hand in the shower and it was like water. I kept pouring and waiting for the Reynolds' Rap by Yvonne Reynolds thick stuff to come out. it never did!" My dream of saving money went right down the drain. The same thing happened when i tried to economise on pantyhose, inspired by a newspaper article on how to make women's hosiery last twice as long. Before wearing, one was advised to remove the hose from the package, wash it (them? I'm never sure if words like scissors, trousers and pantyhose are singular or plural) carefully in mild soap and lukewarm water, pop it into the freezer for 48 hours, defrost and wear. And wear. And wear. I followed instructions to the letter. However, as i was putting on what i fond- ly hoped would be art almost indestructi- ble pair of expensive pantyhose, my gold chain bracelet snagged a delicate thread. The act of pulling on the left leg sent an inch -wide run rippling up my stocking from ankle to knee. So much for that little experiment. I fared no better with the purchase of a new dining room suite. The table top was delayed, and proved on delivery to be a noticeably different shade of walnut than the rest of the set. I was finally able to negotiate a $100 discount because of the mismatch. The dealer was still backing out our driveway at the close of my successful bargaining as I picked up the silence cloth and flipped it triumphantly in the air as a prelude to covering and thus protecting the table's gleaming wooden surface. The corner of the cloth caught one of the prisms on the chandelier. The prism broke free, hit the table with considerable force, broke in two, and bounced across the top like a stone skipped over a pond. Ripples of water are with us for a mo- ment and then vanish forever. Not so with wood. An estimate of the cost of repairing the damage was prohibitively high. Now there's always a cloth on my table. Chari- ty is not the only item guaranteed to cover a multitude of sins. I comfort myself with the thought that things didn't pan out for King Midas either. He became as anxious to rid himself of the Golden touch as i am to shake off the Sadim Syndrome. 1 "Read all about it — man finds job!" Enough is enough Listen, Lord, enough is enough. We've all heard of the Year of the Great Plague, or The Year of the Locusts, or some such, with a eertain awe, but from a safe distance. But who's going to be in- terested in The Year of the . ,.Smileys. _ . _ - Oh, I know we've had a few minor altercations in the past, when I've fairly humbly suggested that Youstopdumping rain or snow on us for forty days and forty nights. But I didn't think You'd start a personal vendetta. I thought You were above that sort of thing. Live and learn. It started in August. My son, Hugh, a gregarious type who likes almost everybody, admitted to his apartment, late at night, two young men and a girl, who'd come to "visit."He knew one of them slightly and asked them in for a cuppa. he doesn't drink. They had a bottle. After a while they said they were going to rip off his guitar. He said Oh no you're not, and suggested they leave. One of the men hit him over the head with the guitar. While he was unconscious, or close enough, one of the others hit him on both knees with a hammer. The young lady of the group heated water and poured boiling water over his face, chest and back. They took his stereo and anything else that would sell quickly on the streets, and left. Somehow, some hours later, he managed to lurch and stagger to an emergency ward of a hospital, in shock and great pain. He's back in pretty good shape six months later, with sore Sugar and Spice Dispensed By Smiley knees and burn scars. Why? Who knows? They were probably looking for something they could sell quickly, to buy drugs. Or they were animals, already high and looking for a little "fun" as well as profit. That's what life in the big cities of Canada is becoming. A month later, Lord, I fell down a stairs and broke my shoulder. I'm not saying You had anything to do with it. I don't dare. But one of your. cherubims or seraphims might have been trying to curry a little favour. I've never fallen off anything but the wagon before in my life. Five months later (a couple of weeks, the doc- tors said), I can't open a jar of marmalade without severe pain, and I can lift five pounds only w ith great care. Two months later, my wife, in her prime, strong and healthy, fell dead in front of me. How the mail A few weeks ago I men- tioned briefly about an old gentleman by the name of John Kersey who was the original mail man in the Watford area, commen- ting on the dedication he had to his job. Since then I got set straight on a few more details about the way it was sixty years ago delivering the mail. The mail train got in at three a.m. Shortly after that John was down at the station to pick up the mail and would sort it before he left. As I said before, he had to trade horses half way along the route in the winter time. During the short hours of light he had My daughter went home to Ottawa with the kids and found her apartment ransacked, stereo and other valuables gone, after her Christmas with me. At least, she said wry- ly, they hadn't taken a hat- chet to the piano. And it's pretty hard to heist a piano out of a basement apartment. Another Cana- dian city. Great place to live. We might as well move to Detroit. However, there's no personal resentment, Lord. I know you have to test the faith once in a while, or "once and a while", as my English students prefer. Look at what happened to Job. At least You haven't given me boils. Speaking of boils, what's happening to my ability to sleep the clock around? It's very.- nice, being retired and not having to slam that alarm clock off at 7:15 and get up in the dark. But i can't sleep Not in a bed. Only in a chair. [ go to bed at a reasonable hour, 11 or 12. and nothing happens. i just lie there, my mind whirling with all the things I haven't done or should do. I turn on the light and read. Try again. Nothing. Read some more. About daylight I go into a coma for four or five hours. Maybe I'd settle for a boil or two. However, I can't com- plain. It's a fairly good life, being a retired widower, once you've established a pattern. Pie and ice-cream and cheese for breakfast, at noon. Soup and scrambled eggs for lunch, about four p.m. Frozen chicken pie and banana for dinner, about eight. And the days have a cer- tain soothing rhythm. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I go for physiotherapy to Brutal Brian. It used to be called, in the old days, the In- quisition. I don't scream when he takes my shoulder out of the socket, but 1 sure grunt. Tuesdays and Thursdays are the bad days. I have to set the alarm. After an hour's sleep, on Tuesday I must put out the garbage. On Thursday, after an bour's sleep, I must welcome the lady who comes to clean up the mess I've made, and try to give her some coherent idea of what to do. And every day, still, come warm and loving let- ters from old friends and column readers, to give me a little weep. All in all, not a bad life. But, Lord, if you can find something else to do, stop dumping on the Smilleys. went through a long pole) not just to tell him that the box was there but to warn him that a -1 Perspectives to get 'around quite an ex- tensive area, so far that it was dark by the time he returned. One way one Qf the customers helped was to put a lantern out on the end of the mailbox, (the mailbox was balanced on By Syd Fletcher very deep drainage ditch was just beyond that point. No headlight on the front of that horse, don't forget. A neighbourust down the road would run out with a cup of hot tea to warm John up before he turned back. Sometimes he would take a baby from one lone- ly house on down to the next as an additional ser- vice, jokingly placing a stamp on its forehead to make sure the whole business was legal. Then when he got back into town it was time to open up the town post of- fice from six to nine at night for the benefit of the village folk. Sixteen hours a day. Six days a week. Three hun- dred dollars a year. Cer- tainly a different world. A