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A Living Legend The city of Oshawa was the scene last week for a day-long tribute to a man who probably is the best hockey player of all time. Past and present superstars from the game of hockey, various league officials, local dignitaries, and of course thousands of sports fans from Oshawa turned out to honour Bobby Orr with a parade and luncheon at the Civic Auditorium. There are few hockey fans anywhere in this country who aren't familiar with the story of how Orr left his Parry Sound home when barely into his teens to play Junior hockey in Oshawa, and at the age of 18 jumped directly into the NHL. The rest of the story of his career is in the record books and in the memories of sports enthusiasts who marvelled at his superior skills, talents and dedication to the game. 'He dominated the sport for a decade both on the ice and off; always a gentleman, always a classy, articulate ambassador for the game which has come under criticism in recent years. Bobby Orr was and is the kind of athlete and human being that youngsters playing the game can look up to. If all young players today strived to emulate Bobby Orr, our national sport would be in. pretty good shape. Library Problems The Scugog Library Board likely never imagined a year or so ago that plans to expand library services for the citizens of this Township could run into such problems and difficulties. The Board is rightly convinced that the present War Memorial building on Queen Street simply is not big enough to provide.even adequate library services for a population that has increased more than six times since that building was constructed in the 1930's. The Board acouple of years ago got a financial commitment from the Township for $100,000 for an expansion. The Board applied for and was granted Wintario funds for up to $100,000 based on a matching dollar for dollar formula for each dollar earned through a public fund raising drive. The Board was offered and accepted a chunk of property on the Port Perry waterfront by the Township for a new library, and just about six months ago, it seemed that the plans to build there would proceed full steam ahead. And then the problems began. When the plans to build a new library on the lakefront became public, the citizens (or some of the, anyway) raised a hue and cry, claiming that every square inch of municipally owned waterfront should be turned into parkland. They said the present library building was constructed as a memorial to men who lost their lives in the First Worl War, and that memorial must remain as it is, a library. : editorial poge The Board, now desperate to get some kind of an expansion off the ground before the end of the year, has backed down in the face of this pressure, and is now seeking to build an addition to the existing War Memorial Library on Queen Street. The Township council, however, is less than enthusiastic about this, expecially in light of the fact that by-laws would have to be varied, and there would be a severe lack of parking if an addition is added to the building. While nobody can argue with the desire to maintian the library as a War Memorial, adding a $300,000 addition there seems to have severe shortcomings. The Library Board chairman told the council Monday that if population trends continue in Scugog, the 5000 square foot addition may not be adequate to serve the needs in six or ten years time, never mind the fact that anybody wanting to use the library will have to take their chances on finding a parking spot, which might be a bit of a problem for people in Greenbank or Blackstock who would find it just a little too far to walk. The logical solution to the problem of where to expand the library is a new building on the water- front property. The arguments that that piece of land should be turned into parkland don't hold water. The Township already owns plenty of parkland along the waterfront already developed, and there is more that could be developed. If that little piece of land was the § only waterfront property owned by the municipality, then the arguments to preserve it as park would have a lot more weight. Maintaining the war memorial aspect of the present library building could be achieved by continuing to use it as a library building even if a new structure is built elsewhere. It could be a public archives, a centre for historical documents, a reference centre for use by the public. There are any number of library functions that building could be used for. However, it seems that the Board has been backed info a corner by public sentiment and financial restrictions. The council is being backed into a corner to approve by-law variances for an addition that some members are opposed to, and other members will go along with only because they too have felt public pressure against a new building on the waterfront. - What seems to have been forgotten at this time is the long range outlook. While nothing lasts forever, a library addition now could very well be obsolete in 10 or 15 years. It may solve the problem in the short term, but some day in the future, the problem will have to be faced again. bill CITY BOYS AND BOAT PEOPLE As a small-town boy who was always pret- ty closely associated with the country, and nature, it is a constant source of bewilder- ment to me to observe the reactions of my two grandboys to natural phenomena. They practically ignore them. . When they come to our place, with a large squirrels, their great interest in life is the lawn sprinkler, at any hour of the day or night. Oh, they might look vaguely towards a tree when I say, "Listen to that big bird." "They might chase a robin or throw a rock at a squirrel. But those things are basically boring to them. Much more fun to turn on the sprinkler, preferably when Grandad isn't looking, give him a good cold shot in the back while he's trying to read the paper, and backyard practically polluted by birds and smiley with their wet feet on Gran's favorite rug. Take them to the local plaza, where a store has tropical fish, a huge old parrott, gerbils, rabbits, white mice, and you'd think they'd be fascinated. One cursory glance and they're off and running, smashing shopping carts into each other, knocking over carefully-arranged displays and playing Superman by leaping over little old ladies sitting on benches. Took them over to see their great- Grandad last weekend. He has a lovely place in the country. About two acres, with a hundred places to hide and climb and ex- plore. Know where they spent their time? Fighting to see who got to drive the dormant snow-mobile in the backyard. Second choice was "racing'"' an old car with its front wheels propped up on two big blocks of wood. Between the two vehicles, they must have covered most of North America. Took them down to the dock for a fish. They had no more interest in fish or fishing than I have in refinishing furniture. But they were intrigued about how long it would take to drown if I drove the car off the end of the dock. Out driving with them, I point to cows, horses, sailboats and all sorts of things they should be interested in. Scarcely a look. They want to know how fast we're going, why we aren't going faster, and why I don't turn the air-conditioning to '"'super-cool" so it will blow their hair around. Street-smart City Boys. Oh, yes, then there are the Boat People. Somehow, I was inveigled into going out fishing with a couple of young colleagues. One of them has a dandy cruiser with a cabin, stove, the works. Seemed like a good idea. Have a beer or two, catch a mess of bass, do a little yarning. For three weeks the weather had been hot and humid. What a treat to get away out on the Bay, far from the heat and stench of town. Cool breeze, great fishing, good com- panionship. That's the way it is in the beer ads, anyway. We drove to the marina in a cloud-burst. Sky cleared. Spirits were high. So were the waves. Found the guaranteed bass fishing spot. Water calmed. Baited up. They put me on the side of the boat where the fish weren't, while they hauled in half-pound monsters of the deep. Sky clouded. Another cloud-burst. More wind. More rain. No fishing. Visibility decreased, along with the food and beer. No land in sight. Blown off the shoal where the fish were. Anchor wouldn't hold. Soaked to the heels. Circled the buoy marking the shoal eighteen times while novice steered erratically and skipper pretended he could chart a course. Nothing in sight except rain. Clung to the rear seat with white knuckles and kept up spirits of crew with stories of flying for- mation through the clouds, and the time we cam back from Horse Island deer hunting in November through a snow storm, pumps not working, and ten foot waves. Did quick figures in head, estimating how far to swim if we hit rock, lake freighter or other cruiser stupid enough to be out in such. Skipper finally figured course, broke out emergency medical supplies, blindfolded all of us, opened her up and headed for what was either the north or the south shore of the Bay. Obviously, we made it. I had caught one four-inch rock bass and one helluva cold. But we had bass fillets for breakfast, the sun shone again, my old lady had to forget about collecting my insurance, and I prom- ptly called our minister and told him to put me down for $25. a month for the real Boat People, those poor sods who have escaped from Viet Nam and drowned and starved and thirsted while we go tearing about in our air-conditioned cars, our cruisers with all the amenities, and whine about inflation. City Boys and Boat People. Enjoyed both of them thoroughly.