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editorial poge Acid Rain ls Killing Our Lakes Concern for the environment does not seem to be quite as much in vogue as it was a decade ago. However, acid rain is a phrase that has crept into our everyday vocabulary, and it is a problem that will get worse, niUth worse, if remedial steps are not taken in both Canada and the United States. In fact, the findings in a study released last week by the provincial government are frightening, and should be of paramount concern to each and every person living. in Ontario. The study states quite clearly that if present levels of "acid loading' in the atmosphere remain over the next ten to fwenty years, 'much or all the aquatic life in 48,000 Ontario lakes could be lost." And that is just if the status quo stays as it Is. God only knows how many lakes could be effected if levels of sulphates and nitrates in the atmosphere increase over the next decade or two. Acid rain is the result of the emission of two compounds into the atmosphere - sulphur dioxide and oxides of nitrogen - which undergo a chemical change to acids while in the atmosphere and then fall to earth with rain, snow, or as dry particles. The lakes which are susceptible to acid rain are those which have quartzite or granite bases rather than limestone, because these have little or no 'neutralizing capabilities. A glance at a map of North America shows that lakes are susceptible in almost all of Quebec and Labrador, a large area of the Pacific Northwest of the 'United States, the Cambrian Sheild aréa of Central and Northern Ontario, a large part of Manitoba, and a huge section of the Central North- west Territories. It's a frightening prospect. Those 48,000 lakes in Ontario have a total area of almost 7000 square miles. Many lakes in Ontario, particularly in the Muskoka Region are already afflicted or threatened because of their geology and the fact that they lie in the path of acid emissions from the centre of the North American continent. It may be small comfort to residents of Scugog to know that Lake Scugog and others in the Kawartha chain are not considered now to be susceptible to acid rain fall-out. A joint Canada-U.S. research group estimates that in 1975 5.5. million tons of sulphur dioxide was emitted into the atmosphere from Canada, and 28.5 million tons from the United States. The figures for nitrogen oxide are 2.1 million tons from Canada, and 22.4 million from the United States. The report by the Ontario government minces no "WELL THEY CANT HELP BUJ BE IMPRESSED WigH JHE UNANINITY ---- LIBERALS, JORIES AND VDP /* words when it says that recent American govern- ment decisions to convert more major utilities from oil and gas to coal burning without adequate abatement procedures will make the problem worse than it is now. . . Technology already exists or is in the process o being developed which can substantially reduce the levels of emission from smelting and power plants which burn fossil fuels. But it is expensive, and a massive problem for . Canadians is that the major areas which are the sources of the emissions are not going to suffer the most damage. It is hard to convince a utility of smelting plants in the Ohio Valley to spend consider- able quantities of money for pollution control to protect lakes hundreds or even thousands of miles away. Already, the U.S. federal government seems to be turning the other way. It has ear-marked $10 billion over the next ten years to help power plants convert entirely to coal from oil, or reduce oil _ consumption. But of this amount, just $400 million going towards emission controls. It seems clear enough where the priorities are. But smelting and power plants are not the only source for acid rain. Cars, trucks and airplanes are also contributing to-the problem. And not only does acid rain kill aquatic life in lakes, but it poses a threat to the forests, which are vital to the economies of Ontario and Quebec. The study suggests that now in 1980, it is not too late to prevent the problem from getting worse. But it will cost money, a lot of money, and could very well be the ultimate test in just how good the relations between Canada and the United States really are. Acid rain is a man-made problem. The controls are within our technological grasp. And scientists have a pretty fair idea what will happen if there is not more control. It seems now that the solution is one of political will and sacrifice on both sides of the 49th parallel. Looking back in 20 years and wishing that action had been taken will be small comfort for all of us. bill ~ SUCCESSFUL BUDDIES I sometimes wonder if my college contemporaries are as happy as I, or happier, or less happy and just walking the old treadmill until they reach the end of the road and the dust to dust business. My wonder was triggered by a recent letter from-no-less a-body-than--Sandy - Cameron, the Ambassador to Poland. He seems happy, but that's only on paper. We used to kick a football around when we were ten or twelve until we were summoned home in the gathering dusk. He's since returned to Ottawa, after three years in Yugo-Slavia and two in Warsaw, and has invited us to drop around. I shudder at the cost of that, if my old lady thought she was going into ambassadorial regions. Can you rent a mink coat for an evening? Another guy I knew at college has emerged into a fairly huge job, much in the public eye. He is Jan (now John) Meisel, a former Queen's professor who has been appointed head of the CRTC and is deter- mined to move that moribund body. Jan is, as I recall, a Czech, gentle, brilliant, fairly frail but strong in spirit. smiley Let's namedrop some more. Jamie Reaney is a playwright, poet, novelist, and professor of English at Western. Two Governor-General's Awards for literature, but he's just the same sweet, kooky guy he was at nineteen, a real scholar, absorbed in -children's-games; yet--a first-rate teacher and writer. Alan Brown has been a dilenttante with the CBC, producing unusual radio programs from faraway places, and lately emerging as a translator of French novels. He came from Millbrook, a hamlet near Peter- borough. How we small-town boys made the city slickers look sick, when it came to intellect. ' George McCowan was a brilliant English and Philosophy student who was kicked out of school for writing an exam for a dummy who happened to live around the corner from me when I was a kid. He went off to Stratford as an actor and director, and suddenly disappeared to Holly- wood, after marrying and being divorced from Frances Hyland. He is now on his third "or fourth wife, has an ulcer and directs Grade B movies. I knew Don Harron casually. His first wife was a classmate of mine, who later married that Hungarian guy who wrote In Praise of Older Women, made into a movie. Harron, with lots of talent, energy and ambition parlayed his Charley Farquarson into a mint, and is still producing a lot of creative stuff. Another of the drifting mob was Ralph Hicklin, a dwarfish kid with rotten teeth, and a wit with the bite of an asp. He still owes me $65.00, because he had no scruples about borrowing money. He became a movie and ballet critic, and a good one, but died in his late forties. There were other drifters in and out of the gang, including my kid brother, who was mainly there for the girls. And boy, I'd. "better not start on the girls, or I'm in trouble. I was the only one who was about half jock, that sweaty and anomalous name that is pinned on Phys. Ed. teachers today. I played football; and my 'intellectual friends had nothing but scorn for this. I loved it. And I made some friends among the jocks, or the hangers-on, the sportswriters. Notable among them was Dave McIntosh, who-still writes a mean letter to the editor from Ottawa, and spent most of his adult life working for The Canadian Press and newspapers. I also had other friends in college newspapers. I was a couple of years behind the bumptious Wayne and Shuster, but knew Neil Simon and others whose names appeared as bylines from all over the world. What 1 wonder is whether I would trade places with these bright guys I used to hang around with. I think not. I doubt if three of us are still married to the same woman, not that that is any big deal. I don't have the ego to hustle myself as some of them have done, nor the brilliance that many of them had. } When I go up and shout at my noisy Grade 10's, or try to coax my four-year elevens into some sort of intellectual move- ment, I simply haven't time to wish I was the Ambassador to Poland, a director of B's in Hollywood, a translator of rather obscure French novels, or the head of the CRTC. I haven't time. Tomorrow night I have to drive 140 miles and give a speech about "honour" to the Honour Students of another: Department Heads' meeting where we will, for the fourth time this year, discuss "Smoking" in the school. Tonight, I have to call-my-old lady in-Moosonee, tell her I've been a model bachelor and have only burned six holes in the rug. Thursday night, 1 hve a a Parent's Night, at which the parents of bright kids will come to have me praise them and the other parents will stay away. I bought the pajnt for the back stoop, but it's been too wet to paint. Yesterday, I had two young lady visitors, who caught me in my pyjamas, bare feet, and dirty dishes all over the kitchen. No. There's no way. I just haven't time to be an intellectual, a success, a good father, or a good husband. : But I'm going to keep an eye on all those old friends of mine, and if they stutter or stammer or stagger under the load, I'll be laughing. ' x v --school-----Tomorrow--I-have to go to a