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www.insideHALTON.com · OAKVILLE BEAVER Thursday, November 10, 2011 · 6 The Oakville Beaver 467 Speers Rd., Oakville Ont. L6K 3S4 (905) 845-3824 Fax: 337-5566 Classified Advertising: 905-632-4440 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. Letter to the Editor NEIL OLIVER Vice-President and Group Publisher, Metroland West DAVID HARVEY Regional General Manager JILL DAVIS Editor in Chief DANIEL BAIRD Advertising Director ANGELA BLACKBURN Managing Editor RIZIERO VERTOLLI Photography Director SANDY PARE Business Manager RECOGNIZED FOR EXCELLENCE BY: Ontario Community Newspapers Association MARK DILLS Director of Production MANUEL GARCIA Production Manager CHARLENE HALL Director of Distribution SARAH MCSWEENEY Circ. Manager WEBSITE oakvillebeaver.com The Oakville Beaver is a division of Clarkson Freeman nominated as name for new high school Re: Clarkson Freeman nominated as name of new Oakville secondary school Dr. Freeman was born on the family homestead on the northwest corner of Sixth Line and Dundas Street (Hwy. 5) (Munn's Corners) in 1837. His family was the first pioneer family to settle on and farm this land acquired from the First Nations people in 1808. As a child, he attended Common School for several years, but made little progress. His father suggested he should work on the farm; however, he was determined to obtain an education. After attending Grammar School at Palermo, he was chosen to teach the Common School at the Boyne. He taught in the summer months and went to Toronto during the winter, preparing for, and eventually graduating, with a medical degree from the University of Toronto. He established his medical practice in Milton in partnership with his fatherin-law, Dr. James Cobban. In his medical capacity, he was a surgeon in the American Civil War, a medical officer of the 20th Battalion Lorne Rifles, a surgeon for Halton County Jail and County Coroner. He was actively involved in community service as Mayor of Milton from 1870 to 1872, helping to establish good railroad service and an abundant supply of spring water for Milton. His interest in agriculture led to the establishment of the County Agricultural Society. Throughout his life, he maintained an interest in education of the children and young adults in his community and abroad. Throughout his lifetime, Dr. Freeman exemplified the spirit of the first pioneers in the Halton area. He recognized the importance of obtaining a good education and passing this love of learning on to members of his community and others studying medicine. As well, he took an active role in serving his community in a number of capacities. Submitted by Marilyn Feth, Oakville great, great granddaughter of Dr. Freeman Canadian Community Newspapers Association Suburban Newspapers of America THE OAKVILLE BEAVER IS PROUD OFFICIAL MEDIA SPONSOR FOR: United Way of Oakville ATHENA Award SUBMITTED PHOTO LOST FOR GOOD CAUSE: Angela Padovano, a Grade 10 student at Abbey Park High School, recently had her hair cut for Locks of Love -- for the third time. Locks of Love is a charity that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children under age 21 suffering from long-term medical hair loss. Most of the children have lost their hair due to alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. For more info, visit www.locksoflove.org. Facing fact that icons age, some a little better than others I t didn't come as a total shock -- on some level I must have known it was approaching (all I had to do was the math) -- but these things always seem to sneak up and bite you. Early last month, Gordon Matthew Sumner turned 60. Ah, the math. Consider: I first heard of Sumner in 1979. At the time, rampant, rabid disco was ruining my (musical) world. Then, one night I entered a darkened, empty bar -- empty because everyone in town was doubtlessly off discoing -- and heard the coolest sound being blasted over the speakers. I asked a waiter who it was. "This," he said, "is Sting and The Police." Even in the early days, Gordon Matthew Sumner was simply Sting. It was a nickname acquired in his hometown of Newcastle, England, where he played standup bass in assorted jazz bands. On stage, he'd wear a black-and-yellow sweater that made him look less like a musician who would come to lead a band bent on world domination and more like a bee. From the waiter, I learned that I had not gotten in on the ground floor with The Police. The album playing was not the band's debut, Outlandos d'Amour r, but, rather, their sophomore release, Reggatta de Blanc. By noon the next day, I owned both. You probably know the band's story as it's painted by numbers: Six years together. Five albums. Fifty-million in worldwide sales. Six Grammies. And, in 2003, an induction into the Rock `n Roll Hall of Fame. Most memorable bands are driven and destroyed by conflict. After releasing and touring extensively in support of Andy Juniper Synchronicity y (eight-million copies sold), the band imploded and Sting the solo artist was born. Free to explore whatever musical styles interested him, he carved an eclectic career that probably cost him as many Police fans as it earned him new devotees. And somewhere along the way there came the inevitable backlash that accompanies all successful souls. Sting, the critics claimed, had taken a turn onto the Pretentious Turnpike. However, to people who know him, Sting was just being Sting, a man genuinely concerned with bettering himself and the world around him. Odd how backlash works: how the guy critics swore was so cutting-edge cool in The Police, came under fire for daring to voice concern over a dying planet. Like trying to help the environment was... a bad thing. For his birthday, Sting performed in New York with the likes of Stevie Wonder and Bruce Springsteen -- not solely to celebrate, but to leverage the occasion to make money to fight poverty in The Big Apple. To me, that's Sting. I like to think I'm in no way ageist. Age means little to me. Age is just a numbers game some people like to play. Still, admittedly, some numbers have more impact than others. And some numbers make you aware that your idols are human and not immune to the passing of time. Icons age. Granted, some better than others. Last week my wife and I were at Massey Hall when Sting took to the stage, looking 40, and sounding, well, let's just say that if I closed my eyes, his voice transported me back to that empty bar, hearing that now-famous, plaintive wail for the very first time. Sixty. Forty. Twenty. Whatever. Every little thing he does is (still) magic. Andy Juniper can be contacted at ajjuniper@gmail.com, found on Facebook http://www.facebook.com, or followed at www.twitter.com/thesportjesters.