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¢ e 6 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, November 6, 1990 The Port Perry Star 235 QUEEN STREET - PORT PERRY, ONTARIO PHONE 985-7383 FAX 985-3708 The Port Perry Star is authorized as second class mail by the Post Office Department, Ottawa, for cash payment of postage. Second Class Mail Registration Nurnber 0265 Subscription Rate: InCanada $25.00 per year Elsewhere $70.00 per year. Single Copy 60¢ EDITORIAL Publisher - J. Peter Hvidsten Editor - John B. McClelland News/Features - Julia Dempsey Billing Department - Louise Hope Ngws/Features - Kelly Storry Retail Sales - Kathy Dudley, Lynda Ruhl, Tracy O'Neil PRODUCTION Annabell Harrison Trudy Empringham Darlene Hlozan BUSINESS OFFICE Office Manager - Gayle Stapley Accounting - Judy Ashby ADVERTISING Advertising Co-ordinator - Valerie Ellis All advertising subject I putiisher's appr ovel Advertising Sales Representative - Anna Gouldburn Note: No ads accepted 1 any balance owing over 45 days. VN = FCNA - | =) N44 Member of the Canadian Community Newspaper Association Ontario Community Newspaper Associaton Published every Tuesday by the Port Perry Star Co. Lid. Port Perry, Ontario Editorial Comment REMEMBRANCE In Flanders Fields the poppies blow Between the crosses row on row, That mark our places; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard among the guns below We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders Fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. - If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders Fields. When John McCrae first penned those 15 lines in April, 1915, little did he know that In Flanders Fields was destined to become one of the most loved and widely read verses in the English language. Today, some 75 years later, the verse has stood the test of time. It is as meaningful today as it was when McCrae took his inspiration gazing out across a war cemetery near Ypres and wondered (as others no doubt had wondered) why the wild poppies grew in such numbers in the soil where the fallen lay in their final place of rest. John McCrae was born in Guelph, Ont., in 1872, the son of a Scottish immigrant. He graduated from medical school before serving as an artillery officer in the Boer War. When the Great War broke out in 1914, McCrae joined the Canadian Medical Corps. On April 22, 1915, he was at the front line at Ypres, and witnessed first hand the horror of the battle that raged back and forth for 17 straight days and nights. He wrote: "One can see the dead lying there on the front field. And in places where the enemy threw in an attack, they lie very thick on the slopes of the German trenches." He worked non-stop, tending to the wounds of hundreds of soldiers; at times the dead and wounded would just roll down the bank into his dug-out. His unit was finally relieved and McCrae wrote a letter home stating "We were weary in body and wearier in mind. The general impression in my mind is one of a nightmare." In Flanders Fields was written in pencil on a small scrap of paper. Soldiers who read the poem were so moved by its message and its simplicity they committed it to memory. Ironically, the English magazine "Punch" was the first to publish it, though not as a feature, but apparently just to fil! up some space. It was soon published in other journals and magazines. John McCrae did not live long enough to witness his poem achieve international acclaim. He caught pneumonia in 1918 and died five days later. He was buried at Wimereaux, France, with full military honours. A Frenchwoman, Madame E. Guerin, is believed to be the person who first suggested that the poppy become a universal symbol for the war dead. But more than 100 years before that, a correspondent had written about how thickly the poppies grew over the graves of those killed in the Napoleonic campaigns in Fland- ers. In Canada, the poppy was adopted as a symbol in 1921, but it was not until five years later that it first made its appear- ance at Remembrance Day ceremonies. Last year in Canada, more than 14 million poppies were (Turn to page 8) * Ree (ESSION 15 JUST A NICKNAME , HONEY, AND HONESTLY, I'M SURE HE'S NOT PLANNING TO STAY LONG ! " Random Jottings SLENDER THREAD This past week | have come to believe the line between life and death is so minute it is hard to comprehend. It's the slender thread, or tightrope between two dimensions in space. A split second in time when the joy and happiness of life can be shattered and replaced by the tragedy and sadness of death. Of course, when the loss of a life is one close to you, it always seems worse than when it happens to someone you don't know. And whether it's thousands of miles away or just next door, the full impact doesn't hit home unless you have a personal tie to the tragedy. Three personal friends lost loved ones dur- ing the last few days. One, a young man in his prime with a lifetime ahead of him; the second, an 'outrageous' man who had delighted thou- sands of people with his impersonations of fa- mous female actresses; and the third an elderly gentleman who had already experienced a won- derful life. Each of these fine people leave family and friends behind to mourn their loss and if not close to any one of them directly, | find myself sharing the grief being experienced by the fam- lies of these friends. | well remember not so long ago, when my father passed away, the words of comfort and compassion sincerely given during our period of grief. And while they were much appreciated, there really are no words which can help ease the pain of the moment. With those memories so fresh in my mind, it was apparent, no matter what words | was able to utter, it would mean little to those left to mourn their losses. "They" say that time will heal the wounds and eventually make you forget. "They" are quite correct that time does heal and in time it is easier to cope with the loss of a loved one, but one thing you never do is forget someone who has been a large and important part of your life. Any words | might write here would be inad- equate, but my thoughts are with the families of To suffering from their loss. SEARCHING | spent a few hours last Saturday along the 'sideroads near Blackstock looking for clues to the whereabout of two young women who disap- peared from their homes many months ago. It was the search for Julie Stanton and Eliz- abeth Bain, which has now moved into the Scu- gog area. Julie disappeared last April after being seen getting into a car with a noisy muffler, and Elizabeth disappeared in June from Scarboro, al- though her car was later found. The Star ran a front page story last week about the search for these two girls and the plea for volunteers, and | was somewhat surprised at the small turnout to help. A total of approximately 85 people volun- teered their time over the weekend, and less than half of these were from Scugog Township. But those who turned up were devoted to the task at hand, and through the capable co- ordination of Dave Madder, eight groups set out to comb the ditches and dense brush along township roads looking for any kind of clue which might lead to the arrest and conviction of those responsible for these crimes. It's a gut-wrenching, difficult task to scour the brush knowing in the back of your mind you might well come upon a decaying body. But it's one that the parents of both girls are determined to continue until they know for sure the fate of their daughters. | noted that a number of the volunteers Sat- urday were young women, about the age of the two missing girls. One commented that she was unable to help with the search in the Ganaraska forest, but when it moved to Scugog she felt it was the least she could do. And she said she'd be back out next week when the search contin- ues on Scugog Island. Whatever the reason, volunteers will be needed again this weekend to help continue the search. Headquarters this Saturday and Sunday will be the Scugog Island Hall, and the search will take place from about 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. each day. Why not give a few hours of your time.