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editorial poge former, as they have now, it is not surprising that violence is on the increase. Ariot at a rock concert is nothing more than a sign - of the times, which are becoming mean, nasty and brutal. And there is nothing to indicate that we should not expect more of the same. ® - What has happened, however, is that our ever permissive society which extends to people an unprecedented amount of personal and individual freedom has fallen down in demanding from its citizens a corresponding amount of duty and obligation. When the scales tip in favour of the Rock riot just a sign of the times At least twice this summer, rock fans in Toronto have gone on a rampage. The most recent incident at the CNE last week when Alice Cooper failed to show on stage, turned info a full-scale riot with extensive damage, numerous injuires and several arrests. The potential for violence exists whenever a large crowd of people gather in a confined space. It doesn't take much to turn an apparent peaceful crowd into an ugly, unruly mob swept up into violent behavior led by a number of individuals. The combination of alcohol, drugs, and the under- lying theme of violence conveyed in the lyrics. of some popular music these days is a potent one. Of course in the case of the CNE riot last week, the fact that folding chairs were readily available for throwing simply added to an already volatile situation. Although mob violence is not a new social phenomenon, and certainly the outbreaks recently are tame compared to the mayhem that often goes on at European soccer matches, for example, they seem to be a reflection of society where violence is becoming a way of life. One need only look at the front pages of the daily newspapers or the court dockets. Police forces are reporting more incidents of assault, robbery with violence and vandalism to public.and private property. The problem of violence within the schools is becoming a major headache for many boards of education in this country. Respect for any authority for the law, and for the common rules of decent | 'human behavior appears to be slipping away. Violence as an expression of anger or frustration is thankfully still the exception rather than the norm, but less so all the time. There are many who are beginning to wonder where it is leading us, whether it will get worse, and what, if anything can be done to turn around these trends. Some are advocating longer jail sentences for violent offenders and making life inside prison tougher than it is now. Others are saying that our school systems must become more authoriative, including the use of corporal punishment, while still others say we should strengthen our police forces and give them more powers. The pros and cons of these and other suggestions could likely be debated forever without any totally satisfactory conclusions. There really is no short and simple solution. « *) AAR EONAR So aE reels SOAS) Ng re! RA LE -- rE a can, but I wouldn't advise it. If you haven't been back to your old home town for many years, don't go. and sold them back for a dime. If I'd had time,.I'd have driven around the _three-mile circuit Jack Pope and I worked bill EAS --whatever-turns-you-on.---- o STAY HOME Summer begins and the school teacher, along with his students is reasonable ecstat- ic. Two whole months free to loaf, swim, golf, fish, play tennis, scuba And suddenly, before you've had a chance to hit a ball or catch a bass, it's the middle of August. You haven't been anywhere special you haven't done anything special, it's rained four days out of seven or been so blasted hot, all you could do was lie around and gasp, and there you are, a couple of weeks away from facing about 160 kids, fit as fiddles and ready to make you skip academic rope. Lucky is the teacher who has no friends or relatives. He or she can go to Europe, take a course in anything from primitive sculpture dive, or ley summer holidays. A coupleof days here, a little jaunt to see some relatives there, and suddenly it's last summer. - My wife is at the moment packing bags fo the eighth--time in five -weeks,-and- she swears that after this brief expedition up north to the cottage of friends, she's going to pile the suitcases in the backyard, sprinkly a can of gas over them, and have the first big barbecue we've had time for since the end of June. I spent one week loafing. But I have such a gift for loafing that it seemed like only three days. Then it was a punishing trip up north to pick up the grandboys. Their mother insist- ed that I not spoil them, or try to entertain them. I did both and we all love it, but it took Progress puts its ugly finger on the most cherished memories of childhood, and you'll find that the tree-laned, sleepy little town in which you grew up not only makes you sad, but a little angry, with all its new motels, sleazy eating places, and fine old homes turned into apartments or nursing homes. I went looking for a corner where I had kissed a girl every night for two years. As I slowed down, trying to identify it with the big maple gone, replaced by a pizza joint, a dry-cleaners, and a fish-and-chips boutique, a kid came up from behind, slammed me in the rear, and ran off in his souped-up Zilch, hurling obscenities. I was wishing I had a .44 and I'd've put two slugs through his gas tank. ' I drove down the main street and it could have been Main Street, Anywhere. Like North Dakota. That was the street where I hustled deliveries for my Dad, when he had a shoe store, and he'd give me a dime, and I'd go to the matinee, watch Tarzan beat the crocodiles (almost) across the river, and go back next Saturday afternoon, wondering if he'd made it. He always did, thank goodness. My brother and I played golf, badly, at the every Saturday morning, looking for empty beer bottles in the ditches. We made a fair buck in those days, probably splitting thirty-five cents when we turned in our goods to M.K., and elderly Jewish gentle- man, much more scrupulous of his business dealings with us kids than most trust company executives would be. I saw my sister, who, as was always her wont, tried to stuff more food into me than a healthy alligator could handle. I drove out to an incredibly romantic place my Uncle John had bought as a farm. He couldn't make a nickel from it, but it had _a huge stone house with a butler's pantry, and about 14 outbuildings: stables, sheds, barns, the lot. After explaining my safari to a surly chap from eastern Europe, he said, "Sorright, sorright." So much for memor- ies. It wasn't all gone, of course, to be fair. Some of the old stone houses and hotels are still there, turned into artsy-crafties or modern eating places. The old, smelly river-cum-canal is still there, weed-infested, tranquil, full of suck- ers and pike, a relic of the war of 1812-16. But don't go home again. Crowning blow ,/ to basic Russian, or just lie around in the its toll. On me. local course. 1 felt completely out of my ag when my wallet was either lost or lifted, ie backyard watching the bumble bees trying Next thing I know, my brother wants a ¢lement, with all those old, white-haired, and I've been cancelling credit cards, a9 to have sex with the hummingbirds. reunion because he's leaving the country. ~~ Wizened people until I got to the river. The getting new licenses, and weeping over my X10 But most of us have relatives, and some of ~~ - Thomas Wolfe wrote a great novel: bridge was new, but at least I remembered cash and my OHIP number ever since. ° oh us even have two or three friends, and -* "You Can't Go Home Again". Well, you Sitting onit, watching the ladies pound their Stay home and be happy with your own G0 therein lies the sudden disappearance of the. golf balls into the river. We dived for them, rotten place and all its problems. i NS a