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PORT PERRY STAR - Tuesday, December 14, 1999 - 7 The Rodd Povey Sta Question of the Week... blood? Do you have a suggestion that you think would make a good question of the week? Call us at 905-985-7383. Why do you think it's Chirk... BA nn important to give Meaghan Squires Robert Evans My parents wanted me It's important to make too and I felt it was a good idea to help some- body, even if it's myself someday. sure everyone who needs blood can get it... you have to look at it like how you would feel if you needed blood and there was none there for you. Amy Davidson Anthony Beauchamp It's a very important cause and we're having a challenge here at the school (PPHS) to collect SeEE Lesley Partington People are going to need it, and it's important to take the time, if you can give, and help those who need our help. . It's all about saving lives. Everyone needs blood and it's there to give. LETTERS Caring gesture made little boy's day To the Editor: A couple of weeks ago our spirits were restored in the quaint village of Seagrave. We were going to have a busy weekend including kids' swimming lessons, a photo ses- sion at Wal-Mart and a trip to Wanamaker's General Store to see a jolly visitor in a red suit. We all know that the best plans somehow get changed, or do not happen at all. Our plans didn't happen as a result of our seven-year-old son waking up Saturday morn- "ing with spots on his body - yes, the chickenpox. I hesitated, but finally broke the news to him that he was contagious and housebound. That included not going over to see Santa. 'Well, he was pretty disappointed, but accept- ed it like a trooper. Now, with our three-year- old daughter, I explained to her our son's con- dition and informed her that even though she didn't have any spots, she could have it and be infectious. Her response? "I don't have an infected ear." This took some convincing. Living beside the general store, their eyes were glued to the window as they watched Santa arrive on a Harley. I took their letters and drawings over and a while later the back door opened. Who should enter but Mr. Wanamaker bringing Santa, who wanted to see the boy with the chickenpox. Well, it was all our son could do to try and hold back his huge smile. (a Kodak moment for sure). To heck with the plans. This will be a mem- orable Christmas for our children. Something special they can tell their children and grand- children. You have to love that small town spirit with neighbours that help and care about each other. Thank you, Wayne. Thank you, Santa. Gail Sheridan, "Seagrave E-mail the editor: port.perry.star @ sympatico.ca | Mrs. R. M. Holtby, Remember CREE EH SE NR ibd uxillary of the Women's Missionary Society (WMS) taken at the home of | south of Manchester in June 1915. Identity of the women unknown. ~ Photo courtesy of Isabelle Brooks of Uxbridge. Lk / by Jeff Mitchell LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN Beyo Bo Bo, Bo bo-bo-bo Beyo Bo Bo, 'Bo-bo-booo... So began a tune by The Cars, a band | disliked when they were making records and still hate now, but whose undeniably catchy tunes occasionally surface, like missing persons in Lake Ontario, on the radio. And become stuck in my mind like a Christmas-time walnut between one's molars. Nothing can dis- lodge it but time, or maybe dental floss. So how about some mental floss to get rid of this ridiculous song to which | have been exposed? I'in fact came across a term for that phenomenon -- that of having a tune stuck in one's head -- but of course have forgotten it. More and more these days when | go rummaging through the drawers of my mind | come up with nothing but torn photographs, old kleenex tissues and cheap costume jewelry, rather than the timely witticisms and gem-like bits of wisdom | had hoped to retrieve. ; And really irritating melodies. Like the theme from Green | Acres, complete with the voices of Eddie Albert and Zsa Zsa Gabor. The bit about Old Uncle Joe, who's a-movin" mighty slow, at The Junction... Petticoat Junction! Peter Frampton with that wah-wah-wabh thingy, singing | want you-00-000... to show me the way... Felice Navidad by Freddie Fender, for goodness sake! Is anybody goin' to San Antone, or Phoenix, Arizona? It's amazing the things | seem to remember: The opening paragraph on a speech | was made to deliver to my Grade 7 English class, one day in Grade 5 when Jeff Wood laughed so hard he wet his pants, the words to Billy Don't Be a Hero, the number to push to hear Willie Dixon songs on the jukebox at the Lafayette Tavern in Ottawa... so why can't | recall, when I'm at the grocery store, that we need tooth paste, or what | did with the television remote, or where in the hell | parked my car at the Oshawa Centre? The problem is not that | have trouble remembering things. | remember plenty; it's just that it's all the wrong stuff. Is my mind like some bizarre cerebral magnet, attracting sports trivia and 70s bric-a-brac, and repelling that which | really ought to absorb? Am | crazy, or just amusingly daft? I'm sure I'm not alone in this. And you know, I'll bet there's some kind of exercise | could be taught by the people who do assertiveness training, or some such thing. You know, like brain aerobics. But then, what's wrong with not having room for your licence plate number in your cluttered mind, so long as you remember it was Werner Klemperer who portrayed Colonel Klink on Hogan's Heroes? So I'm not going to worry about it, and | urge others who suffer from Selective Memory Syndrome not to, either. Hey, look: Isn't that Abe Vigoda?