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letters M.P. wants action on water level Editor's Note: The foll- owing is the text of a letter sent last week from Durham-North- umberland M.P. Allan Lawrence to federal Environment Minister Charles Caccia concern- ing the water levels in Lake Scugog. Mr. Lawrence attend- ed a public meeting in Port Perry April 15 in which considerable alarm was expressed by local property owners and others about the low water levels in Lake Seugog. Lake Scugog with the town of Port Perry on its shore, is in my constit- uency of Durham- Northumberland and is part of the Trent-Severn waterway under the jurisdiction of Parks Canada for which you « are responsible. Evidence is that over the years the lake has been slowly silting up due to erosion and deposits of massive weed debris. As well, in some years and certain- ly last summer was a prime example, the weed problem in the lake has been so intense that recreational boat- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, April 24, 1984 -- 5 the PORT PERRY STAR CO LINTED ¢ } Ma QUEEN STREET % CNA PO 80X90 PORT PLRRY ONTARIO L08 NO (416) 983-738) [a GN J. PETER HVIDSTEN £4 Publisher . --- Advertising Manager Member of the ing activity by the Canadian Community Newspaper Association public has been severely J.B. McCLELLAND and Ontario Comrounity Newspaper Association restricted. Editor Published every Tuesday by the The local municipal- Port Perry Star Co. Ltd , Port Perry, Ontario. i i ivid- CATHY ROBB ity and private individ News & Features Authorized as second class mail by the Post Office uals have had to go to great expense to attempt to cut the weeds, and the Trent- Severn waterway has attempted to keep the main channel only clear by chemicial control. (Turn to page 6) O\AN Com SI iy, y *C PRA \ Department, Ottawa, and for cash payment ot postage in cash. Second Class Mail Registration Number 0265 Subscription Rate: In Canada $15.00 per year. Elsewhere $45.00 per year. Single copy: 35 C remember when: 60 YEARS AGO Thursday, April 24, 1924 Probably the largest crowd that has ever attended an auction sale in this town was present at the premises of the late Col. Farewell property on Ontario Street, last Friday, when 6 parcels of real estate, together with household effects and chattels were offered for sale. Miss Follet, a returned missionary, gave a very in- teresting address on her work in the North West, and on Sunday evening Rev. H. Latimer delivered a fine Easter message at Raglan Church. Mr. B.T. Sangster, Revenue Department, Toronto General Post Office, was a guest of his brother, Dr. W.A. Sangster, over the Easter holiday. 35 YEARS AGO Thursday, April 28, 1949 The 30th day of April marks a year since the death of the Editor and Publisher of the Port Perry Star, the late Mr. Samuel Farmer. A large crowd gathered at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Harper, Prince Albert, to honour Mr. and Mrs. Howard Jeffrey at a miscellaneous shower. / At a meeting of Cartwright Council, it was decided to dissolve the present Continuation School area comprising School Section 2 only and make way for the formation of a High School area comprising all of Cartwright. Mrs. F, McClintock and Mrs. J.E. Jackson, Port Perry, were in Toronto for three days attending the On- tario Registered Music Teachers Association convention. 25 YEARS AGO Thursday, April 30, 1959 Jeanne Williams, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Murray Williams, Port Perry, was honoured recently at a ceremony at Convocation Hall, Toronto, when she received her Gold Certificate for having won her Gold Cord in Guiding. Chamber of Commerce President, Arthur Panabaker handed over the office to incoming President, Ted Griffen and his 1st and 2nd vice presidents, John Orde and Storey E. Beare, respectively. A large crowd gathered at Devitt's Hall in Cartwright to honour Mr. and Mrs. Orr Venning who have sold their farm to Jacob Buma and are moving to Bowmanville. 20 YEARS AGO : Thursday, April 23, 1964 President Marjorie Honey welcomed the Ladies Curling Club to the 10th annual banquet marking the end of the curling season. Rev. Gordon Hunter, B.A., B.D., of Asbury and West . United Church was the missionary at a Preaching Mission held last week in Greenbank. A record of continued good service to his community and the support of his customers earned Port Perry IGA dealer, Jack and his wife Doreen, an expense-paid trip to Nassau in the Bahamas. 15 YEARS AGO Thursday, April 24, 1969 Mrs. E. Beelby of Scugog Island was the lucky winner of $20.00 in the sixth draw of "Bazaar of Values'. Starting this week the Port Perry Star will publish a series of 18 photos of Port Perry scenes taken prior to the fire in 1884. The pictures were donated to the Historical Society by Mrs. J. Allen. The old photos have been in the possession of Mrs. Margaret Formen, a former Port Perry resident now living in Toronto. An estimated 1,500 persons accepted the invitation to view the new hospital on Paxton Street in Port Perry on Sunday afternoon. 10 YEARS AGO Wednesday, April 24, 1984 Council has allowed 55 days for anyone interested in preserving the Port Perry Town Hall to come up with ideas and hard cash before being put up for sale. A proposal has been received from professional actor and theatre director Mina E. Mina who would like to see the Hall turned into a centre for the arts and include a sum- mer theatre, similar to that of Stratford. A delegation of approximately 25 persons met with Durham Board of Education this week and presented reasons for wanting Cartwright High School to continue functioning. Following a brief session in committee, the Board decided that operations would continue as usual, much to the delight of the Cartwright delegation. Education Week began at Port Perry High School with an At Home for parents and students. Pictured in this issue of the Star were 1974 At Home Queen, JaneAnne Stone with her escort Calvin Yake and the 1974 At Home Princess. Joan Coates with her escort, Bob Brown. Dill smi OPEN THE WINDOWS This is a time of year that tries a teacher's patience. The animals come out of hibernation, kick up their heels, and go snorting about like young colts, or frisk- ing about like new-born lambs. And that is one of the craftiest mixed metaphors since Shakespeare. For four or five months, the students have been in a torpor. This is not some kind of tent, and has nothing to do with tarpaulins. It is a human condition induced by lousy weather, hacking colds, overheated classrooms and droning teachers. The past winter has been tailored for torpor. Lack of snow, lots of rain and a plenitude of ice have prevented adolescents from indulging in their usual winter pastimes: splintering a leg on the ski slopes; smashing around on a snowmobile; piling up the old man's car in a snowdrift 18 miles from home. The kids have been positively cowed by the endless dreary days; they have slumbered secretly through the most thrilling math, science and English lessons; they have coughed and blown and sneezed until there seem- ed nothing left inside but a dull emptiness. But, let them hear one crow caw. Let them kick off their winter boots. Give them three sunny days in a row. And look out. The calendar says winter has barely ended, spring is a figment of the Canadian imagination. But these pallid, droopy, bored, lethargic creatures burst out of their cocoons and fly. A few bright, warmish days in mid-March, and they're babbling like sea-gulls, bunting like young calves. Their blood begins to burble. They hurl costly text-books out the open windows. They fall in love. There's colour in their cheeks. They get into fights. They drive their teachers, whose blood is barely simmering, and a long way from burbling, right up the nearest blackboard. If the fine weather holds, by the end of March they are dashing around in shorts and would be barefoot, if allowed. A feverish few would wear bikinis to school if they could get away with it. And that's why this is a tough time of year for teachers. Our blood is thin. We are still huddled in our winter coats. And we look on these exotic creatures, for whom the very bottom line, and I mean the bottom, is schoolwork, like aliens from another planet. We try to cope. We mildly reprimand. We say "Listen you people . . . ' Nobody listens. We shout, "Shut up animals!"' The decibles increase. We threaten "If you don't pay attention . . . ya, ya, ya." Nobody pays attention. Must I admit that, behind the stern contours of my countenance, I envy them? Must I confess that, once upon a time, I drove my teachers in the spring, even sillier than these birds are driving me? It's a few years back. Sometimes it seems like last week. Sometimes like aeons ago. But I once burbled with the best of them, fell foolishly in love with the fondest of them, and caused my teachers to break into stutters and spots and tics of the jaw muscles like the "worst" of them. Falling asleep over my physics, snoring over my science, muttering over my math, and failing my French during those long, dark winter months, 1 too crystallized and emerged in March. My teachers shook their heads dolefully. They couldn't afford a March break in Hawaii in those days, 80 they had to be doleful at home. They predicted ruin, a useless life, a futile job in a factory, and other dire straits, if I didn't shape up. In one ear and out the other. There weren't any jobs then, just as there aren't any now. What was the point of a piece of paper, that, with a dime, would buy you a cup of coffee? My inner ear was tuned to finer things than the soliloquies of Hamlet, right-angled triangles, and la plume de ma tante. I could hear the moose-like bellow of steamboats firing up and blowing off. I could feel the inner excitement of heading up The Lakes with a fair sea running, and a cutting breeze blowing. I could smell the familiar scents of "soogie"' and engine oil and honest sweat. My summer job was on the Great Lakes, on a steamboat, and it was a love-hate relationship. I hated it while I was doing it, and loved it when I wasn't. But it was The Great Escape from the chalk-dust and the tiresome, timid teachers, and the constant reminders that I'd never amount to anything unless I So, I may be driven into a convalescent home by the high spirits of my students. I may bewail their lack of responsibility. I may be driven to scold, shout and threaten. Ho But it's just an act. I'd give an arm and a leg (preferably my arthritic ones) to feel the way they do, when the sun slants in the classroom, and the windows are opened wide.