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editorial com - ments Farming has become a big business in Ontario, and it's a business crucial to all of us. Farm Safety Week starts July 25. Statistics from the Farm Safety Association show that in 1980, the number of losf-time injuries reached a ten year high "of 2650. This Is well above the ten year average of just over 2000 injuries. While the modern farmer is safety conscious 365 days of the year, the statistics indicate certain trends which focus on when and how Injuries are most likely to occur. Almost 50 per cent of the Injuries last year were to workers under 25 years of age, and 25 per cent of those injuries occurred during one month: August. This would seem to indicate that lack of ex- perience is a factor in farm injuries, and farmers should be especially careful when casual help Is hired during busy times of the year. About 25 per cent of the injuries were equipment related, and the tractor is the single most common cause of farm deaths. A study of 277 farm deaths over a six year period shows that 140 were tractor related with 93 of these due to roll-overs. In any industry, an Injury is most likely to occur when a worker is mentally and physically fafigued. In the farm industry, long hours of work during the planting and harvesting periods can lead to careless- ness caused by fatigue. Agriculture is one of Ontario's biggest and most important industries. We salute the men and women who have made this industry the success it is. With a little care, the number of farm related injuries can be reduced in this province. Jiggle and Bounce Is it just our imagination or are summer fashions this year shorter and skimpier than in years gone by? It became glaringly apparent during the recent heat wave in Port Perry that there Is an abundant amount of wiggle, jiggle and bounce to be seen on the main streets of this fine community. And we think it is high time something is done about it all. Far be it for us to tell people what to wear at the beach or in the privacy of their back yards, but Queen and Water Streets in this community are fast starting to look like the boardwalk at Atlantic City or - the beach on Acapulco Bay. The main street of any community should be one where business and commerce can be carried on with a degree of seriousness and dignity. This is becoming more difficult as the summer wears on. We understand that one hot day recently when a young lady walked up Queen Street wearing a less Farm Safety Week | than modest swim suit, the entire staff of one business put down their pencils and didn't get back to work for over an hour. We understand also that one staff member is now in traction as a result of severe: neck strain. Lo Thankfully, it seems that a sense of sanity will soon return to the main streets of this fair commun- ity with the announcement that a new organization has been formed to put an end to the wiggle, jiggle and bounce which Is so disrupting our streets. The Concerned Citizens Coalition in Defense of Public Standards, Morals, and High Rectitude called a news conference to announce it will petition Township council to demand immediate passing of a new zoning by-law, which spells out precisely what is acceptable summer dress for public places and what is not. You may recall this Citizen Coalition which worked so hard a few years ago to have Gone With the Wind banned from school libraries. This same group was successful in shutting down a (gasp) mud wrestling ring operating on the slyina horse stable on one of the Concession Roads in our fine Township. - AF We are confident the Coalition members will attack the wave of wiggle, jiggle and bounce this summer with the same zeal and dedication to principle. We couldn't agree less with the spokesperson for the Coalition who stated last week that "it's a crying shame stores in Port Perry don't seem to be selling brassieres any more." Mail Interruption The current postal strike has interrupted delivery of the Port Perry Star to many of our subscribers. This week and continuing until the strike is over, the - Star will deliver papers to the post offices in the following communities: Blackstock, Nestleton, Caesarea, Janetville, Seagrave, Greenbank, Prince Albert, Ashburn and Brooklin. Subscribers with regular or general delivery postal boxes at' the Port Perry Post Office will get their papers in the mail this week. Any Port Perry or Oshawa Rural Route subscriber can call the Star office at 985-7383 for information on how to get their papers. - The Star will be printing extra copies of the paper until the strike is over and these will be on sale at our office at 235 Queen Street. We are sorry for the inconvenience and confusion, but we will do our best to see that our regular subscribers get their copy of the paper during the 'postal strike. y CLEANING UP : One of the best ways I know to knock the mortar out from between the bricks of your marriage - to uncement things - is to join your spouse in cleaning up the basement- attic. Take your pick. One's as bad as the : i . other. : / My wife's been talking about cleaning up our basement for approximately 15 years. I Me, alarmed: "Hey, you're not going to throw out that gunny sack? I had that in Normandy in '44!" She: "It has a hole in it and stinks of mould. And what about these old medals?" Old medals, my foot. They are precious. They are not exactly the V.C. and the D.S.0. As a matter of fact, one is for joining up, another for getting across the ocean without have avoided it by resorting to a number of subterfuges that I will gladly send you on receipt of a certified cheque for five bucks. That may seem a little expensive, but it takes a mightly lot of subterfuges to get through 15 years. But nemesis is unavoidable. It came last week in the form of an ad in the local paper stating that the town trucks would pick up household junk on the following Thursday. It caused a lot of deep in our town. What constitutes household junk? Some chaps I know sat there, pretending to watch TV, while their dark and secret minds conjured visions of chlorforming the old woman, putting her in a green garbage bag, and sticking her out by the curb on Thursday. I'm happy to say that nothing of the sort occured to me (it says here). But the notice did draw a deep and anguished groan, right from the heels. I knew what was coming. I thought I might be able to stall her until the Wednesday evening before, when we could lug a few things out of the jungle that lies below, and leave the rest to rot, as it has been doing for 15 years. " But it was not to be. With complete disregard for my feelings about the sacred- ness, the almost holiness, of weekends, she dragged me down into the underworld, on a perfect day for playing golf, pointed, and coldly said: '"Let's go." Oh, I could have sneered, picked up my golf clubs, walked to the car, and driven off. I'wish I had that kind of guts. But I knew I'd come home to a living martyr and six months of sheer hell. I went. Down. That's when I began to envy those lucky devils who have converted their basements into rec rooms. If you have one of those, you don't unpack a box, remove the contents, and happily hurl the container down the cellar steps. You get rid of it in some seemly fashion. - It's not the grubbing through spiderwebs and other assorted dirt that I mind. First job I eyer had was cleaning out latrines, and I have no dignity when it comes to dirt. What gets me is the dialogue. We were in two different rooms, she in the -place where the oil tank is, and the like that. I was out in the main cellar, where we normally shovel a path from the bottom of the steps to the furnace, the washer and dryer. It was full of wet cardboard boxes, pieces of linoleum, ancient shades without lamps, ancient lamps without shades, mildewed purses and gunny sacks and jackets, warped curtain rods, ski poles without handles, skis with the harness missing, various pieces of torn plastic, great heaps of old sheets, kept for dusting rags, and similar fascinating items. She hollers: "Bill, I think there's enough green here to touch up the woodwork." Ihave just lifted an anonymous box full of dirt from when the furnace was cleaned out. The bottom has dropped out, and I am contemplating a one-foot mound of furnace excrement on the floor. ; } Me: '"That's great. Shove it - uh - that's fine, dear." ; She, appearing round the door: "You're not going to throw out that perfectly good chunk of linoleum! We might need it to patch the kitchen floor!" Me, sooto voce: "Why don't you make a bikini out of it, you great seamstress, you?" i being sunk, a third is for staying alive on wartime rations, known as the Spam medal, and the fourth for getting home alive. But the grandboys like to play with them. And on it goes. We fight over every item, for sentimental or practical reasons. I hate to see a perfectly good breadbox go out, even though it has no handle and doesn't match the kitchen. She gets upset when I want to discard the third-last vacuum cleaner we had, because it has the propen- sity of being a great spray-painting weapon for painting fences, if we had a fence and she could find a bottle exactly the size of the one that is missing. Like marriage, in general, we give a little here, take a little there, and both wind up furious and exhausted. | When it was all over, there wasn't much left but a bagful of mouldy, green love letters, 30 years old. She doesn't know it, but I'm going to get up at five on Thursday morning, sneak them out, and bury them among the junk, I simply couldn't stand hearing what a chump I was in those days. ' . Due to the Postal Strike this column has been reprinted from June 20, 1979. -~ -