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6- The Oakville Beaver Weekend, Saturday September 9, 2006 www.oakvillebeaver.com The Oakville Beaver 467 Speers Rd., Oakville Ont. L6K 3S4 (905) 845-3824 Fax: 337-5567 Classified Advertising: 845-3824, ext. 224 Circulation: 845-9742 The Oakville Beaver is a member of the Ontario Press Council. The council is located at 80 Gould St., Suite 206, Toronto, Ont., M5B 2M7. Phone (416) 340-1981. Advertising is accepted on the condition that, in the event of a typographical error, that portion of advertising space occupied by the erroneous item, together with a reasonable allowance for signature, will not be charged for, but the balance of the advertisement will be paid for at the applicable rate. The publisher reserves the right to categorize advertisements or decline. Editorial and advertising content of the Oakville Beaver is protected by copyright. Unauthorized use is prohibited. Commentary IAN OLIVER Publisher NEIL OLIVER Associate Publisher TERI CASAS Business Manager JILL DAVIS Editor in Chief MANUEL GARCIA Production Manager KELLY MONTAGUE Advertising Director RIZIERO VERTOLLI Photography Director CHARLENE HALL Director of Distribution ROD JERRED Managing Editor WEBSITE oakvillebeaver.com Metroland Printing, Publishing & Distributing Ltd., includes: Ajax/Pickering News Advertiser, Alliston Herald/Courier, Arthur Enterprise News, Barrie Advance, Caledon Enterprise, Brampton Guardian, Burlington Post, Burlington Shopping News, City Parent, Collingwood/Wasaga Connection, East York Mirror, Erin Advocate/Country Routes, Etobicoke Guardian, Flamborough Review, Georgetown Independent/Acton Free Press, Harriston Review, Huronia Business Times, Lindsay This Week, Markham Economist & Sun, Midland/Penetanguishine Mirror, Milton Canadian Champion, Milton Shopping News, Mississauga Business Times, Mississauga News, Napanee Guide, Newmarket/Aurora Era-Banner, Northumberland News, North York Mirror, Oakville Beaver, Oakville Shopping News, Oldtimers Hockey News, Orillia Today, Oshawa/Whitby/Clarington Port Perry This Week, Owen Sound Tribune, Palmerston Observer, Peterborough This Week, Picton County Guide, Richmond Hill/Thornhill/Vaughan Liberal, Scarborough Mirror, Stouffville/Uxbridge Tribune, Forever Young, City of York Guardian Guest Columnist Oakville resident is proud to be a turbanned man Surjit Singh Flora, Oakville resident his headpiece is a marker of the Sikh identity and a symbol of a religious belief system despite a desire to fit Surjit Singh Flora in. Whereas by creating the Khalsa (an order of the pure ones) to uphold universal brotherhood, Guru Gobind Singh gave the Sikhs the 5 Ks in a baptismal rite: Kes (long hair), Kangha (comb to keep the long hair neat), Kara (an iron bracelet), Kachcha (shorts) and Kirpan (sword). These outward symbols were meant to remind them of their principles. From the day I was old enough to know myself I grew long hair on my head, and wore a small turban. That's how I grew up and that was my belief as a Sikh. I used to go to the temple almost every day when I was a child. The temple priest was a really good friend of mine and he taught me how to read Sri Guru Granth Sahib JI (Holy Book of Sikhs). I started wearing a turban. I was a happy person. Then in 1989 I moved to Toronto and started high school. A new country, a new language and new people. Every day I faced new problems. Some of the white people started making fun of me by calling me names, some of them touched my turban, and at that time I had an English problem. A few times I complained to my class teacher, but nothing happened. I felt weaker and weaker inside, I got fed up, tired from all the problems I was facing. Finally I asked my cousin if I could cut my hair. So he took me to a barber shop and my hair was cut. I felt so sad, I cried, but it was too late. From that day my mind was never in peace. I felt like I was missing one of my body parts, like I was missing something in my life. That began bothering me so much. When I became clean-shaven I didn't get the respect I used to. When I went to the temple (Gurudwara), if I needed to ask something, I never got attention, people just ignored me and I tried to do everything, but was never successful. I was falling behind. Then I made up my mind that I was going back to the way I had been. I began growing my hair and started wearing a turban. After few years I was baptized as a Sikh. At work if anybody needs to find me, even if they don't know me, they can just say that they are looking for the turbanned person, and because not a lot of us wear turbans, it's very easy to recognize it. Even when I go to the temple now if I need something the server (Sewadar) will help me respectfully. For safety purposes, if you are working in a warehouse or any industrial company a turban could be helpful. If something dropped on your head or you banged your head on something it may not be injured with a turban. Perhaps if you were involved in an accident, a turban could help avoid a head injury. Finally the most important thing about wearing a turban is following The Way of Sikhism. Since I am a Sikh, I am proud of my religion, which taught me to be pure or be natural. Sikhism taught me to let my hair grow, and in order to keep my hair clean I have to cover it all the time. This is why I am a proud turbanned person. And I am happy once again. RECOGNIZED FOR EXCELLENCE BY: Ontario Community Newspapers Association Canadian Community Newspapers Association Suburban Newspapers of America T THE OAKVILLE BEAVER IS PROUD OFFICIAL MEDIA SPONSOR FOR: United Way of Oakville TV AUCTION When the going gets tough, the tough crawl back to bed I can only imagine how you envy me, dear readers ­ a worldfamous writer with, fittingly, a world-famous-writer's lifestyle. But I'm here to confess that my life is not all lazy afternoons with Oprah, pedicures, bonbons, apricot facials, colonic cleansings, and the counter-signing of boastfully large royalty cheques (some in the double digits, if you can imagine!). It's mostly lazy afternoons with Oprah and pedicures and bonbons etc., but not all! Take Tuesday (please!). I did not do much writing over the summer, what with holidays, the seasonal invasion of our abode by assorted house guests, and the irresistible lure of summer activities ensnaring my attention and holding me virtual captive. So, although I was loathe to even contemplate the end of summer, a tiny part of me was looking forward to settling into September and getting back to being a world-famous writer, oh, and maybe even writing if the mood so assailed me. We survived the Labour Day weekend ­ traditionally the most depressing weekend of the year ­ and on Tuesday I awoke with surprising resolve: to jump out of bed and dive back into the novel I am about two-thirds finished; that is, right after Live With Regis and Kelly. I did jump out of bed, but I never got around to writing a word. Or watching Regis for that matter. For starters, after ushering the kids off to school, I made the mistake of looking around the house. It was like a hurricane had hit. Like we'd had holidays and houseguests all summer and never really had a chance to clean up. Andy Juniper I know what you're thinking: that I sacrificed my initial opportunity to return to the lifestyle of a worldfamous writer, and the chance to actually write, to -- gasp! -- clean house. But you're wrong. I couldn't clean because there was the more pressing issue of infernal fly infestation. Seriously, overnight we'd gone from having a few flies in the house to having swarms invading our air space, covering our counters and making us feel all twitchy. Normally, following such an invasion, I transform into Fly Assassin and remedy the problem with death-spray and my trusty fly swatter. But on this day, I couldn't even begin to deal with the flies. Because of the more pressing problem of sewage in the basement. That's right. The pump that pushes the sewage out to the septic had ceased functioning, backing up showers and toilets and such and giving the whole house an outhouse aroma. Now, I would have been right on top of this problem, summoning a plumber and cursing the septic gods, only the school was on the phone, refusing to allow our son into class on his first day back because his shoes ­ the same shoes he wore last year without international incident ­ weren't up to the dress code. It's all clear to you now, isn't it, dear readers: I didn't partake in the lifestyle of a world-famous writer, or even write because I was driving into town to buy my son new shoes so he could attend classes in the school to which our taxes freely flow. Yet, I couldn't get to town because I discovered the truck had a flat tire! So, what did the world-famous writer do in the face of such idiocy and adversity? I crawled back into bed, curled up into the fetal position and listened to Green Day: Wake Me Up When September Ends. Andy Juniper can be visited at his Web site, www.strangledeggs.com, or contacted at ajuniper@strangledeggs.com.