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RAT el AR -) b! oe Sow onl a SER It's Your Backyard It is getting around to that time of year again, a time when front lawns are dotted with election signs, when men and women across Ontario can be seen knocking on front doors, handing our brochures and literature, and when the citizens of this province will have a chance to elect the representatives who will govern their municipalities for the next two years. Except in certain cases, municipal politics in Ontario, and indeed elsewhere in Canada, remain something of a bore for many citizens and this is often reflected in the low turn-outs at the polls on election day. The decisions of a municipal council could have an effect on your own back yard, your street, your kids' playground, where you do your shopping, or how much that new house might cost. And most certainly, the actions of a municipal council have a very direct bearing on how much taxes you will pay in the next couple of years. Granted, the municipal election on November 13 is still six weeks away, and if the ordinary citizen is thinking politics at all, it probably concerns the 15 federal by-elections that are slated for the middle of this month. Nonetheless, it is time that concerned citizens in Scugog are at least made aware that a municipal campaign is fast approaching and candidates are beginning to make it known that they are going to let their names stand for nomination. While there have been no "burning issues" in Scugog over the past couple of years, the Star would urge its readers to get involved in the upcoming campaign and elections: find out who is running for what, get out to the all-candidates meetings, ask questions, talk to the men and women who will be seeking your vote. After all, this is the community in which you live, and what happens in your back yard should be important enough to you to make you want to have a little say about 'who will ultimately make the decisions. Thanksgiving Official statistics suggest that for this year's festivities for Thanksgiving Day there is available for every man, woman, and child in Canada nearly two pounds of turkey. Many Canadians, of course, cannot afford to put turkey on the table, but others can gluttonously make up for that. Turkey is good for us. It is an excellent source of the protein we need if we are to enjoy good health. In Canada and the U.S.A. and most of western Europe, adults receive, on the average, 90 grams of protein editorial poge each day, along with 3,000 calories. In latin America, apart from Argentina, it is 70 grams of protein, with 2,400 calories. In Asia it is 50 grams and 2,100 calories -- and this apparently is lower than it was nearly 40 years ago. In Africa the averages are lower than that -- and in some parts of that continent every child suffers at some time from severe protein deficiency, whichis one of the most common and deadly ailments of children in the under-developed parts of the world. On the other hand, a few years ago a medical writer reported that what he called "overnutrition for the child' has become a serious health problem in North America. And here in Canada, despite pockets of poverty and malnutrition, public health authorities have said that more of us suffer from obesity than from malnutrition. We comfortable, well-fed people often develop curious perspectives on food problems. How many of us are more concerned today about famine in Africa and India than we are about rising food costs atm home? If Canadians were to contribute just five cents for each pound of turkey eaten during Thanksgiving weekend about $2 million would be raised for food and other forms of relief and healing in regions of severe distress throughout the world. Let us recognize that Thanksgiving is an emotional perversion -- and compassion is not really compasion unless it does something practical, such as causim people to reach deep into their purses. At this Thanksgiving season we can all exercise some constructive compassion through our support of world relief agencies -- the mission programs of our Churches and the work of other international charitablé organizations. * United Church of Canada rd % mp = -- ~~ = "UWE can' GO ON MEETING THIS way ! re my bashed-up beak I didn't notice a thing. city, where you once again have to put a® bill MY TRIP CONCLUDED Absolutely my last column about trips to Europe, cross my heart and spit. Just a few final impressions and some tips to those who haven't done it before. Travel to Europe, that is. Holland is flat and flower-filled: flowers, everywhere. We visited a local cheese factory and I was suckered into buying a real cheese knife with a Delft handle, and a two-pound cheese which my wife maligned bitterly every time she had to restore the peace. Went up into a working windmill, of which there are only a few left. An awesome experience, with the great stones grinding and the vast sails whirling; like something out of the middle ages. Saw the biggest flower market in the world, where the lots of flowers are wheeled in, prices flash on a computerized board, and buyers, sitting in a sort of amphitheatre, make their bids by pressing a button which identifies them. Holland was also a sort of memory trip for me. Went within a few miles of Gorinchem, where I was shot down, and passed the city of Utrecht, where I spent several days and made the Great Escape (seven minutes duration). Same in Germany. We spent a night at smiley Lv 'Frankfurt, where I had passed three days and nights way back then, in solitary, at an interrogation centre, waiting rather an- xiously for the whips and the thumbscrews. When I was finally brought in for question- ing, there weren't any, but there were subtle threats: "You know ve haf vays of making you talk". They shook me a bit by showing me a huge loose-leaf folder with the numbers of most Air Force squadrons, including my own, containing a pretty good list of the personnel. -Don't worry; I didn't talk. Didn't know anything except how to get a Typhoon off the ground and on again. Innsbruck in Austria worth visiting. Up, up through the Tyrolean Alps, then down, down through them, everyone a bit tense on the curves, to the beautiful old city nestled like a jewel in a valley, mountains all around, Olympic ski jump just up there. Take in an evening of local entertainment, yodelling, dancing, singing. Robust good fun. There were about eighteen different nationalities in the audience the night we were there. i Don't let you wife loose with a credit card in Florence, where gold and leather are beautifully worked and just half the price of back home. ) Venice stinks. Or so they tell me. With The waterways are controlled by the gon- doliers mafia. There are so many tourists in St. Mark's square that even the famous pigeons have barely room to forage. Rome is remarkable, a bit frightening if you get off the beaten track and the English- speaking guide. After you've seen the Pantheon, St. Peter's, the Collosseum, and the Vatican City, relax. It would take two months to do the city justice. A good bet for some of that relaxation is travel by express train from Rome to Genoa, where Chris Columbus was born. Train is fast, and you get great looks at the Mediterranean all the way up. By bus along the famous Cote d'Azur to tiny Monaco, rigidly ruled by a benevolent dictator Prince Rainier. Took a look at the royal palace. Not too impressed. Rather annoyed that Princess Grace didn't pop out to say hello, but she was probably sulking over her daughter's marriage to that old French guy, when momma wanted Prince Charles of Britain for her. Nice was nice, though men in party all woke up with stiff necks from craning to see topless bathers of the international set. Very, very expensif. Off to Swifzerland, through Grenoble, in France, another Olympic site. Through the French Alps (not quite so scary) to Geneva . and the calm, peace, cleanliness and beauty that Charaterize that country. 'Twasn't always so. Saw the huge statues of Calvin, John Knox and Zwingli, protestant early birds, who got their kicks from burning Catholics at the stake. Then to Berne, the capital whose symbol is the bear; a fine, ancient city. And so to Lucerne, a small, lovely lakeside resort leash on your wife, because it's famous for gold, silver and watches, the best in the world. It's up early for a long, long ride to Paris. It's all that is claimed for it. We saw it from four vantage points; by bus on the way through; blazing with light at night on our way home from a party; by bus and on foot next morning; and from a cruise on the Seine in the afternoon. And barely touched the highlights. I could live there for a year, and still have things to see. & This is beginning to sound like a dull®™e travelogue. Its main purpose is to suggest that when you do Europe by coach, what- ever the length of your trip, you are really on the move. If you want a relaxing holiday, stay home, or rent a cottage. If you want the experience of a lifetime, take a coach tour. Don't listen to well-meaning friends. You don't need six rolls of toilet paper. You don't need clothes hangers (we took half a dozen and lugged then all over the continent). Choose clothing with care: something for cold, something for hot, something for wet, 4 something for smart. You don't, even the women, need a new outfit every day. Take permanent press stuff. Arrange your tour through a reliable travel agency. It doesn't cost any more and it could save you many headaches. We didn't have a single hitch, including fourteen hotels, five boat trips, two buses, one train, one hovercraft and two limousines. So. Just arrange that second mortgage on your house, and away you go, foreign dictonaries in hand. Don't blame me if you $ collapse in Cologne and have to be shipped - back in a box. There'll probably be an air strike, and you can raise a real stink, even after death.