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eC EASA ar 2 A \ TR ATA SSR I a ONSEN RRA A SA Ei 1 "a MN Vv cS 4 jo REEVE SORIA O e---- Western Weekend The Scugog Chamber of Commerce deserves a bit of a pat on the back for its efforts with Western Weekend. We would have to agree with the organizers who say that this year's three day affair went over pretty well, with decent sized crowds, good co-operation from merchants and booth operators, and a lack of unpleasant incidents. Western Weel end has been part of the Port Perry summertime for the past nine years. For 1i.e past couple of years crowds seemed to be on the wane and certainly when the weatherman falls to co-operate it doesn't make things any easier. Nonetheless, there seemed to be decent crowds on hand this year for the events, and the few new wrinkles sych as the street play and tug-of-war added something a little different. Organizers are terming this year's Western Weekend a success, and that should spell good news for next year as it will give everyone involved a bit of a shot in the arm, and renewed confidence. But that's a long way off and right now, we think that the Chamber of Commerce and the many people who took part and worked on the organizing committees deserve a tip of the hat. Dog Pound Needed Scugog Township council has had its fair share of problems over the past eight months. There have been the "'big" ones like increased taxes, angry ratepayers, a library expansion, a budget error. But there has been one small nagging problem that had dogged the heels of the present council and the council that proceeded it, and that is the problem of dogs inthe Township. The issue seems to come up about once a month, whenever the council receives the regular report from Dog Control Officer Ann Barrett. Council does not like these reports for almost invariably they show that more dogs are picked up in Uxbridge Township than in Scugog. And on receipt of these reports, council members almost always make some comment that Scugog does not seem to be getting full mileage out of the dog control arrangement this municipality has with Uxbridge Township. It has become obvious in recent months that this shared arrangement is not working to Scugog's advantage. The latest report tabled at the council meeting Monday is a case in point. Ten dogs were picked up in Uxbridge, only five were picked up in.Scugog. This situation has become bad enough that Scugog this spring hired a part-time control officer to patrol certain areas of the Township on an unscheduled basis. The problem as far as Scugog Is concerned is one of geography. This is a big Township, with almost 250 miles of roads. The dog pound is located in Goodwood, about 25 miles from Port Perry. The dog control officer, Ann Barrett is based in Uxbridge. She has responsibility for both Townships. It is little wonder that people living in the far eastern areas of Scugog have complained about a dog problem and the fact that little seems to have been done to correct it. : Part of the problem in Scugog is that some dog owners have figured out that a complaint about their dogs at large will not likely be answered very quickly, so why bother keeping the dog tied up. Pound facilities in Scugog will cost the Township more money than the present shared arranger..ent. But itis obvious that the money is being spent poorly. It is time that the council comes to grips with this problem once and for all. The Township needs a pound and a dog control officer, on the job in Scugog and editorial p PL i. =<] | | ~ Nl 0 J, vf wil => RETURN Jo DARKEST Or7Auh on call 24 hours a day. bill THE OASIS Almost every day in the summer I drop in at The Oasis, as I think of it. I know, I know. Nasty- minded readers are already thinking it's some kind of watering-hole for dry old Bill Smiley. One of those air-conditioned bars that are so dark you can't see a thing for five minutes and have to count your change by the Braille system. Not so. I strongly dislike those joints. Most of them are dark and dirty and stink. They have a few poor, lonely souls who have nowhere else to go, and very often a construction gang or a road gang, noisy and beer-swilling and profane, sousing it up on the company's time. Nope. I avoid those places like the plague. The Oasis is nothing like that. It doesn't have a braying television set, foul-mouthed roisterers and cold-eyed waitresses. It's just the opposite. True, it is air-conditioned. But not the kind that makes you wish you were wearing a fur coat after five minutes. And true, it is not brightly lighted. But Smiley there is enough light to see what you are imbibing, count your change without using your fingertips, and read a book or a newspaper. And that's exactly what I do there, and why I think of it as The Oasis. It's a charming little place to stop and refresh oneself, to cool out and meditate a bit, and gossip and just plain, sip, before plunging back out into the desert of life. What The Oasis provides for the wander- ing bedouins who stop there is a little peace and quiet. It has none of the plastic jazz of the chain hamburger and submarine joints. But it has a number of the things those places can never offer: charm, friendliness, good manners, courtesy. The customers are not made to feel that the management is doing them a favour by serving them. They are greeted warmly, they are served quickly and efficiently, and they are thanked graciously when they leave, even though they've spent only thirty cents and taken up a seat for half an hour. How many public places to eat and drink are there like that in this country? You could count them without taking your socks off. Sure, we have fancy restaurants in this country where you can pay $50 for a so-so dinner for two, and be patronized by the wine waiter. And we have eleventy-seven thousand snack bars and lunch bars and grills where everything tastes the same. But we have scarcely any places like The Oasis. It's not much, physically. Just a half dozen or so tables in the back of a store. Very much like the sort of tearoom you can still find in England, if you get off the beaten track. The menu varies little, but there's good soup du jour, good coffee and hot tea, fresh-made sandwiches, and a lot of goodies that are baddies for the many little old ladies and all the vulnerable young ladies who frequent it: homemade pies, butter tarts, muffins loaded with calories. Part of the fun, for me, is sitting there getting a jolt from my coffee and listening in. "Just a pot of tea, thanks. Well, what are vou going to have, Ida? You are? Well, what kind do you have? Well, maybe just a square of pineapple cake. And just one butter tart to get started on." And half an hour later, those gentle ladies are walking out with about six hundred calories they didn't need. Each. .Even when The Oasis is busy, there is no sweat. No barking of orders. No getting cross. There's time to laugh and joke with old customers, be pleasant to new ones, and make sure nobody is being neglected. I've watched tourists come in, a little uneasy because they're not used to such informality. They tentatively order soup and a sandwich, find them excellent, wind up with a whacking great piece of pie, pay a modest bill, and go out looking as though they couldn't believe what had happened to em. It's a place that brings out the decency in people. Seating is limited. The other day, four people walked in and there wasn't a table for four. A young couple, with a babe in arms, offered to move to a table for two that had just been vacated, transferring their food, utensils and baby. The new- comers were so shocked they could scarcely say thanks. Very often, The Ticket Seller is there. He sells tickets on every lottery you've ever heard of. He loves children and jokes and talks to the little guys in The Oasis. He drinks a coffee, displays his tickets, usually selling one or two, and hits the street. The Columnist observes. Two teenagers grab a table. The Colum- nist listens. "So, I said to him, not on your life." Giggles. "So, guess what he says?" Giggles. And so on. Despite what my wife thinks, I am not enamoured of the lady who runs The Oasis, though she does have a beautiful face, figure and walk. In fact, she doesn't walk. She sashays. I am in love with a little place of sanity, sense and serenity in this increasingly ugly world.