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4 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Wednesday, September 9, 1987 Editorial Taxing Groceries Is the federal government contemplating a tax on the most fun- damental of all necessities ---- food? No way, said Prime Minister Brian Mulroney and his deputy P.M. Don Mazankowski. But the man who controls the purse strings up in Ottawa, finance minister Michael Wilson said the government's Phase Two of Tax Reform is considering all options, which includes taxes on ALL goods and services. And government documents relating to tax reform, spell out why food should be taxed. Surely, this is one tax that the Canadian people would stand up and scream about, if the Government ever decided to slap it on them at the check-out counter of the neighbourhood grocery store. Everybody, rich, poor and in-between, has to eat. A tax on food at the check-out counter would hurt those least able to afford it. If the average family of four spends $120 weekly on groceries, a seven per cent tax would hit them in the pocket-book to the tune of $450 annually. And there is no way around not paying tax. Families don't stop eating in protest over the tax. With many low to middle income families already on a razor thin budget just to pay for the necessities like food, shelter and clothing, any tax on food would simply mean they would have less to spend, on the things they need most. Aside from the economic arguments about who would feel the pinch the most in a tax on food, surely the federal government can find other ways to shore up the treasury without resorting to such a basic and drastic tax. Rather than slapping the country with more taxes, how about some kind of a concerted effort to trim spending. The fact that there is even a suggestion circulating through the country about a possible tax on food, suggests that all the promises about belt-tightening were just that: promises. Most people have learned to live with the huge amount of tax they now pay to keep all three levels of government humming. Taxes are indeed a necessary evil. : But surely there are some things the tax man should not be per- mitted to touch. And of all things, food is one of them. The current flap over the potential tax on food probably won't amount to much. We simply can't believe the Government would so such a silly thing. But then again, governments have been known to do silly things in the past. The Canadian people should let the Government know that a tax on food is the final straw. It's an issue that would be more than worth fighting a federal election over. Taxing the food people eat is unthinkable. ~ Nice Going If the large numbers of people who turned out for the annual Port Perry Fair are any indication, the Fair is back on track. And that's good news forallofus. . . . Blessed with near perfect weather and several new events and attractions, the three-day Fair over the Labour Day Weekend attracted big crowds on all three days. The controversy which surrounded the Fair and Fair Board for the past 18 months or so, appears to be forgotten (Amen to that) and it was obvious that a lot of people put a lot of hard work into the three- day event just completed. We commend everyone who had any part, big or small, in put- ting together the 1987 version of the Port Perry Fair. After all the controversy and negative publicity of the past several months, itis nice to go on the public record and say to the Agricultural Comments Society "good going on a job well done." Por t Perry eX A STAR (= 235 QUEEN STREET - PORT PERRY. ONTARIO iit Phone 985-7383 PO Box90 LOB INO J PETER HVIDSTEN Publisher Advertising Manager Member of the Canadian Community Newspaper Association and Ontario Community Newspaper Association Pubiished every Tuesday by the Port Perry Star Co (td Rort Perry Ontario JB. McCLELLAND Editor Acthorized as second class mail by the Post Ottice Department Ottawa and for cash postage in cash CATHY OLLIFFE News & Features payment of Second ( 18S Ma Reg WI ato Nu nhet 205 Subscription Rate In Canada $20 00 per year Elsewhere $60 00 per year Single Copy 50° COPYRIGHT All layout and composition of advertisements produced by the adver ising department of the Port Perry Star Company Limited are protected under copyright and may not be reproduced without the written per missior tthe publishe "WELL, DONT ASK FOR A LEJTER OF RECOMMENDATION v rnd Honestly, I don't know where to begin. A column describing 'What I Did On My Sum- mer Vacation' could take one of several tacks. I could, for example, talk about how we near shivered to death on the north shore of Superior, with nothing but a wall of canvas between us and pre-wintry winds. ' Or I could devote an entire column to the Of- ficer Friendlies of Northern Ontario, the OPP, who seemed to have a red alert set for a beige diesel Jetta, and who pulled us over three times (twice in one day). Maybe I'd throw in our experience with a fat skunk, who decided he'd join us by our campfire for awhile, or I could even talk about the 3,500 kilometres we put on ole' Bessie, as we discovered remote parts of the province we didn't even know existed. -- But I'm sure you don't want to hear about any of those things. What you're probably dying to know about is the Good Stuff, the Scary Stuff, the whole reason we set out on our little adventure. The Ghost Towns. We saw quite a few of Ontario's best ghost towns during our one-week expedition. Let's see, there was Nicholson, Burchell Lake, Jackfish, Havilah, Ophir, Depot Harbour, Silver Islet and the best of all, Burwash. : They stretched from Parry Sound to almost the Manitoba border, with plenty in between, in "the middle of nowhere." Few of the towns were easy to find, but all of them were worth the little extra detective work necessary, and I'd highly recommend the trip to anyone who enjoys history, mystery, and a genuine challenge. mains the most unforgettable. Not just because of the ruins, but because of the whole adventure of Nicholson. To begin with, you can't drive to Nicholson. The only trail to this abandoned railway town (that once housed 800 people, two churches, a school, a bustling store and a thriving railway tie industry), is the railway line itself, snaking from the town of Chapleau, past scenic lakes and regenerated forests. Even Chapleau, the nearest town, is in the middle of nowhere. We drove more than three hours along the most twisted road you could im- agine, to get to this mostly French-speaking railway town. SE Every other day, a budd car leaves Chapleau and: heads to Nicholson and other points nor- thwest. It was on this car that we had the distinct pleasure of meeting a conductor with a hook for his 'eft hand, nicknamed the "One-Armed Bandit" who did amazing things with a Yip Stick. His cohort was a slightly crazed baggageman. more than a little drunk, who told us never to leave breakables with the baggage car, and who near. Chatterbox by Cathy Olliffe ON GHOSTLY TRAILS throw our stuff onto the dirt. Nicholson was our first ghost town, and re- ly destroyed another passenger's canoe paddles. On the 20 minute ride to Nicholson, the budd car was filled with unique, but good, conversation, many jokes and much laughter. Mostly, the One- Armed Bandit and the baggageman laughed at us for going to Nicholson ---- few people ever stop- ped there, they said, except for a couple of former residents who used the abandoned homes for sum- mer cottages. Basically, I think they thought we were a lit- tle crazed ourselves, for spending a precious week of vacation time travelling around to places like Nicholson. But the trip itself was an incredible ex- perience, full of noise and grins, and when the budd car pulled into Nicholson, the One-Armed Bandit and the crazed baggageman helped us Waiting at the non-existant platform was an elderly gent who accepted groceries from another passenger, but we didn't take too much notice in the noise and confusion of unloading. And then, quite suddenly, the train started to pull away, the Bandit and the baggageman wav- ed, the door closed, and the budd car began to chuff into the distance. We turned to the elderly gent, to say hello, but he was rapidly disappear- ing down a path into the bush, grocery bags in each hand. We looked back at the train, but it was already nomore than a speck in the distance, so we look- ed at each other and the pile of gear lying in a huge pile beside the tracks. Suddenly we were overcome with the most lonely feeling. I felt like Farley Mowat must have felt when he was dropped off in the middle of the Arctic, with no one else around for many miles. There we were, in the middle of nowhere, unable to catch the return train until the next day. I felt like crying. And then, it began to rain. Small stinging bullets of ice-cold rain, that had come out of nowhere, and was now soaking our sleeping bags. The water slapped us out of our lonely reverie, and we sprang into action, setting up tents in record time. And about the time the tents were up, the rain abruptly stopped. The sun came out, and we began to explore the ghost town of Nicholson. ~ Situated on a peninsula jutting into Windermere Lake, the town, what's left of it, is a large one, stretching from one shore to the other. Although nothing remains of the saw mill which once was the lifeblood of the town, there were abundant reminders of other parts of Nicholson. The church, for example, is sunken in the mid- dle, but the old steeple is still intact, even though it leans at a dangerous angle. The school, a huge (Turn to page 9) Ta