The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

re rn rpg nn est on PORT PERRY STAR - Tuesday, September 18, 2001 - 7 Question of the Week... Why do you participate in the Terry Fox Run? Juan Sanchez "We are Americans and it was one way to give back after last week." LETTERS Support of riders in 'Toy Ride' amazing To the Editor: This was the 10th year for the Toy Ride in support of the children's program at Women's Resources and once again, the support of the riders was amazing. On Sunday, Aug. 12 over 78 bikes participated in the annual motorcycle ride and fun day, bringing a donation of toys or cash with them. Each year the ride seems to get bigger and better and we were overwhelmed by the response to this year's event. This year, the ride raised $1,920 and countless toys on our behalf. None of it would be possible of course, if it wasn't for the dedication and commit- ment of one very special man. There are simply not enough words to express our sincere thanks and appreciation to Dave Chessman who dreamed of this event 10 years ago and has been working tirelessly year after year to make sure it happens again. Through his efforts the ride has grown each year, bringing in more and more donations and increasing the public awareness about the work we do. To Dave, all the volunteers, and to all the riders who came out on our behalf - thank you for giving of yourselves to make a difference in the lives of the children in our commu- nity. Lori Watson, Executive Director JoAnn Sanchez Pam Hickey Stephen Gordon "It is a worthy "This is our first Humphrey Humphrey | | cause and quite year. My kids are "l do it because of "There are so many frankly | want to really interested in my Grandpa, to reasons to do this. Nf see if | can do this." itand itis an honour him." So many friends | excellent cause." and family" Good from Evil: Last Wednesday evening, there was hardly parking lot. The blood donor clinic looked like the doctor's office from hell. At least 70 'people were already waiting. So I took my vital fluids home again, Usually, a healthy body « can sail in there, pick a cot, pick an arm, have your pick of the cookies, and, after about 40 minutes 'and 400 indelicate questions, you're free. But last Wednesday, the clinic co-ordinator, Sue Harris of Peterborough, was turning people away, with thanks, after advising them of upcoming clinics. Wonderful, heart-warming, she said of the extraordinary turnout. Still, she was troubled by the contrast between that exceptional night and the usual sluggish showing of 140 to 180 people at the bi-monthly clinics. Of the close to 500 people who ce me to give blood, more than 100 were first-time donors. Others were returning to give for the first time in a decade or more. "The challenge is to keep those people coming back," she said. In other words, without spectacular explosions, disintegrating skyscrapers, and crushing death tolls, people will likely drift back to complacency. It is a bedevilling human trait - the dark side of life on easy street. And our communities, our churches, our governments and we as individuals are the poorer for it. People are generally complacent about government until they want something from it. Voter turnouts are low. And inevitably that means less democratic government. In communities, volunteers grow fewer in number every year. Childrens' sports programs and other events are often cancelled for lack of them. In recent years, the number of volunteers across Canada has decreased by one million, a trend alarming enough ! "a space left in Port Perry's community centre Over the fence by Kay Langmuir to warrant a front-page story in a national newspaper this summer. People are also increasingly complacent about their spiritual lives. Parents are complacent about their children's spiritual education. Many people want churches to marry them, bury them, christen their children. Beyond that, life's too busy. Sunday's for relaxing. No time to reflect on one's life. Then when a personal crisis arises, people are often ill-equipped to deal with it. They increasingly seek the insular self-absorption of psychoanalysis or hold crystals to their temples. People have flocked to churches since the terrorist attacks in the United States. As in blood donor clinics, there were people in church on Sunday who haven't attended for yéars. They were there for all the right reasons - to share, to find support in the quiet company of others, and to cling to an ancient immovable rock as the sea around them grows wild and threatening. Instead of a sermon at Port Perry United, people were invited to speak out. Hands went up until the time was up. Some speakers were so overwhelmed with emotion their words were difficult to understand. There were fears for sons serving on American destroyers and as airline pilots, a retired firefighter who sent prayers to the rescue workers, a senior police officer with Muslim friends who spoke of the similarities between Islam and Christianity, and of course, the question on many lips -- how could God let this happen? There's no easy answer. But one American cleric quoted in the newspaper sald God always make sure there's some good in every evil. He is right. The terrorist attacks have brought people together and reminded us all of what makes life sweet and gives it meaning -- love, family, friends, community, God. May we forever honour the memory of the thousands of people killed by never losing sight of the things that truly make life worth living, as well as the efforts required to maintain them. shouted to no one and everyone, shot Oswald." "Holy #%## they between watching the horror and calling our eldest son as he sat glued to a TV screen. The need to share And another thing By Rik Davie Things you see forever Of all the things you see, there are things you see forever. One of my earliest memories was of a pretty blonde lady. I didn't know who she was, or what her role in my life might be, only that she was nice to me and she smelled pretty. I didn't see her again for 35 years. The pretty lady was, and is, my mother. The next vivid memory was as a small child watching the silhouettes of B-52 bombers fly over my house and listening to the adults talk about missiles in Cuba and how there would be a war and we would all die. I see those planes as clearly now as | did then. Soon after, it seemed, | sat and watched the base- ment of a police station in Dallas on TV as my father Like photos in your mind, certain events are (here and ready for replay, even af! _. 'mportant events in your life fade to comfortable feelings and photo albums under the coffee table. The good with the bad. I remember the very first time | saw my wife Linda. It was from the rear, so-to-speak. But it is there. The first time my granddaughter told me she loved me is as clear as DVD surround sound. But for the most part it is the unbelievable horror and gut wrenching human drama that I have witnessed, both as a reporter and as a member of the human race, that stay. Tuesday was like that. As the first dribbles of infor- mation came in to the newsroom and the scope of the tragedy that was unfolding in New York and Washington became clear, | found myself already filing away things. The picture of a bunch of cops. Some senior officers, hardened detectives and rookies, watching in horror as the second airplane rammed into the World Trade Center. Not able to turn from the TV. Men who have seen everything finding out before my eyes that they have not seen everything... far from it. Next came the calls from Linda as she jumped it with someone. It was the equivalent of Pearl Harbour and the Kennedy assassination, live, in your face, as it hap- pened. No time to digest it before the next horrific step as the twin towers collapsed into the street. Now, there it is, stored as one of the photos. In with the accidents, the needless deaths, the murders, the police shootings. All the things one sees in this job... but on a scale too enormous to comprehend. In the aftermath, for those of us in the business of news, there are the follow-up stories, the local angles and the editorial to be written. The ripple effect at its worst. They take up the time the rest of the world uses to digest, take a breath and try in some way to comprehend how anyone, no matter the cause, or the God they serve, could sweep so many humans from the planet in one horrific act. When the questions are asked some day by my grandchildren, where were you when New York was attacked, Linda and | will be able to tell them My wife, the habitual compiler of facts, dates and times, will have a diary of the day put away somewhere for them to see. But for both of us, it will be the picture of that plane, that building falling, those people, that will pop into our minds. There is no other thing...