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LOR editoriol poge Canada Day So, Julyl, Canada Day, has come and gone for another year. Although there were celebrations in some parts of the country, mostly bought and paid for hoopla, courtesy of the federal government, Canadians for the most part seemed to mark the 111th anniversary of Confederation with quiet and reserve preferring simply to take the day off work, get away to the cottage, visit family and friends, or just relax in the back yard. The tone of Canada Day seemed to reflect the general mood of this country, for never before has there been so little to cheer about. The internal problems that have battered Canada for the past half-dozen years have brought all Canadians to a cross-road, and not just because of the split between the French and the English. There is a deep mpod of pessimism, uncertainty, lack of confidence among thoughful Canadians everywhere. It stretches from the board rooms of 3 . NI S Se N D NN Q SY . Ne "XN A QU RAS {QL SN N Ny NN \ AN \ Nena SN N EN NR NI NN XN XN © = \ NN N SN X NN oR ON Sw Alana Nene NN N N Nw N\ REE ANN Agari TN ] aN Ne NC X Neg NN ny 5 N N 3 Ny NE " "Me Na ) } NN ANN Wht, business and industry, through the.ranks of organ- ized labour, into political offices at all levels of government, and down to the conversations among ordinary Canadians on the street corners and in the coffee shops. What is wrong with Canada? That's the question people are asking. What has happened to the spirit, the will, the determination of this gigantic land that is blessed with so much and has given so much? Why are there a hundred different forces in this country all pulling in the opposite direction? Who has the answers? In its brief first century of life, this nation has survived a threat from the south, two world wars that took a terrible toll, a severe depression and a number of recessions. In spite of these, Canadians have moved ahead, built an independent state, linked a stretch of 4000 miles with rail, roads, and instant communications systems. In 100 years, Canada has built a standard of living for the overwhelming majority of its people that is second to none. We have a free and democratic system of government while much of the world's population is still under the heel of authority WN AN SN NN SN Mad N & = oN 7 Tr, hy Fs NE WN X 7. 4, 2 /: Za x and dictators of all stripes. And yet, our problems are many and serious. Maybe it was just as well that we didn't throw ourselves helter-skelter into a bang-up birthday, party on July 1. For it was hardly the time to be dishonest, to put on a lot of phony smiles. No, it was better that most Canadians didn't fall for the hype out of Ottawa this past week. When will those silly politicians learn that the cementing of national price and unity can't be bought with freebies and gimmicks? : It was a time for reflection, a time to look inwards at ourselves, a time maybe to compromises little. But more than anything, Canada Day 1978 was a time to think about who we are and where we are going. When Canada Day 1979 rolls around, let us hope that there is cause for genuine celebration: Let us hqpe that Canada is still here. ! # Tough Underfoot Taking a walk on the sidewalks along Queen Street in downtown Port Perry is almost like taking your life in your hands. The physical condition of the sidewalks on both sides of the community's main street has deterior- ated to such a sorry state that a real hazard to' pedestrians now exists. Indeed, there has been at least one incident where an elderly lady fell after catching her heel in one of the many cracks. Walking, is difficult even for those who are more steady of foot than the elderly. For the latter it is downright treacherous. What is required of course is a complete reconstruction of the sidewalks. While this may not be possible or practical until the same time as a general up-grading of Queen Street itself, surely some of the more treacherous spots could get some temporary improvement. This is long over-due and something should be done before somebody, either a resident or a visitor, goes for a serious tumble. a Things are not all bad in downtown Port Perry this summer, however. While the sidewalks deserve criticism and action, the .overall physical appear- ance of Palmer Park merits some applause. Nobody can deny that Palmer Park takes a pretty good beating from the flood of visitors every weekend, and the fact that it is kept in such good condition is a credit to those who are responsible for the up-keep. Not only are the grounds in good. condition, but the piles of trash left behind every weekend are carted away, and for the remainder of the week, anyway, the park actually looks clean and tidy. Now, if only the same could be said about the sidewalks ..... : 4 READING HABITS THERE are so many things about me that annoy my wife that I could not list them in this space, not even in point form. But I believe the one thing that abrases her most severely is that, 'You always have your nose stuck in a newspaper." Well, I retort, if one must get one's nose stuck in something, there are a lot more painful things than a newspaper. She's right, of course. I glom through two dailies, a welter of weeklies, a scattering of news magazines, and a gaggle of other publications, from the Anglican to Canadian Literature. When I'm not reading news, I'm reading books, from fiction to history to biography, from children's books to spy stories to pornography. It must be irritating to her, when she's trying to tell me what a scramble she had with her music pupils, or why the dart she put in her new blouse makes her look like Mae West with one breast shot. off, It must be maddening to her, when, after fifte¢n minutes of wailing about our daugh- ter's unemployability, groaning about our grandson's powers of destruction, or worry- ing about our son's safety in the purlieus of Paraguay to have me look up and say, "Hey, sweetie, did you know that Dennis Braith- waite (a columnist) had the gout? Know what causes the gout?" Or, "Guess what that turkey Trudeau is going to do next?" She is, however, hot without a modicum of realism. If she were a general's wife, she'd know that I had to be off to wars, or at least to some cosy place within fifty miles of the frontlines. If she were a doctor's wife, she'd know that you can't make $100,000 sitting around watching TV. If she were a lawyer's wife, she'd know that your ears do prick up, like a hound dog's, when you hear an ambulence siren. So, she's the wife of a teacher and a writer. And she knows darn well that this is part of the price. The man has got to read. "At least this is the picture I draw for her, in many a heated discussion. Sometimes, I manage to convince her, until the. next lapse. The truth is something else. I read the news for nefarious and nume- rous reasons. One is for pure laughs. Often this is at the media themselves, and the seriousness with which they take them- selves. Did you ever see, since Cousin Elmer was left standing at the altar, such a disgruntled bunch as the media when the Prime Minister refused to call the election they had got themselves so engorged about? Another reason I peruse the papers is to indulge my taste for irony. In an effort to keep the peace, the Yanks are selling fighter planes to both Israel and the Arabs. They would prefer to sell only to Israel, because there is a veritable host of Jewish votes in the U.S. But they need oil, so they sell to the Arabs, too. Shades of the days when they sold scrap iron to Japan, before WWII, and had it returned with interest in the form of shrapnel. I study the media as a sort of ego trip. Doing so makes me aware that I am not as obnoxious as Pierre Berton, not as arrogant as Pierre Trudeau. It works the other way too. Ilearn that I'm not as fearless as Borje Solming, not as colourful as Muhammed Ali. But then I'm not as silly as Elwy Yost or Howie Meeker, so I really come off fairly well. Studying the news makes me aware of the darkness of the human condition. Two little boys in England, six and four, beat an old lady of 84, bed-ridden, to death because she gave one of them six-pence, and the other nothing. I wonder about my grandboys, I'read a story, and wonder at the lack of a 'sense of humour among our politicians. Recently a professor hired to do a study of falling enrollment in schools, came out with the first part of his report. With tongue in cheek, he suggested women should start staying home and have babies, or perhaps test-tube babies should be produced; other- wise, our educational system would fall apart for lack of clients. The pols, fanned b the media, accused him of racism, an feminism, and everything else short of going to the bathroom without having to. I know the feeling. Sometimes I make a joke in this space, and I'm appaled at the reaction of humourless people. I'm attacked as a libertine, an atheist, a monarchist, a war-monger, a peace-monger, a perverter of the young, a denigrator of the elderly, a male chauvinist, a female apologist, a rotten husband and father, a lazy bum, a teacher who should not be allowed within hailing distance of our young. : It doesn't bother me much, because I get all this jazz at home, long before the letterwriters get at me. I'm not any of those things. I'm just old Bill Smiley, trying to keep his head above water in the stream of life, without swallowing any of the sewage that seems to infest it. Finally, I enjoy that old enjoyable known as "I told you so." I get a real kick out of looking back and realizing that some cause I espoused years ago, to the great indignation of my friends and foes, is now the in-thing. Thirty years ago I said we should recognize Red China, a fact. Horror! Now they're our buddies. They buy our wheat. 0 & pm PS -- er --