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[Editorial Comr mment HE SEZ 175 JUST JO GET HIM) OVER JHE HUMP ~ChatterBox by J. Peter Hvidsten Well, it's all over for another two years, and we can all settle back into a normal lifestyle. I'm talking about the election, of course. No longer will our mailboxes bulge with pamph- lets and letters telling us what great guys each of the candidates are. The forced smiles of these men will disappear as will they, themselves, from every street throughout the township. But thinking back to the last three weeks before the election, it is amazing to think how caught up in the momentum of the campaign you can get. On every street corner in town, the post office, coffee shops and taverns all buzz with the excitement of election. Who is going to get in? Did you hear what Joe Blow said at the candidates meeting? I hear that he is going to be a shoo-in! And the list of questions and answers goes on and on, some true, some false and others just to make conversation. But a bewildered young man asked me one day a question that makes you stop and think for a minute. "What makes a man want a job as a politician? Getting called up at any hour of the night, taking verbal abuse and continually being the subject of complaints by vertually every ratepayer in the township." Can you think of the answer. Is it for the money? I doubt it. Could it be for the prestige? Definitely not. Well, what about for a chance to get something through council like a building permit, or a re-zoning? I hardly think so. Well, what could the reason be? The solution is rather simple to find when you ask the right person. The man running for office. One candidate told me that he was running for a seat on council because he had been in municipal politics before, and he ENJOYED THE WORK involved in the job. His answer to the question was verified by another candidate on election night who said that he would have gotten out of politics years ago if he didn't ENJOY being involved in them. . So it is very obvious that most of them do it...BECAUSE THEY ENJOY IT. Not for personal - gain as is thought by many. sess While I am on the subject of elections, I spent most of Monday evening (election night) at the municipal offices collecting the information needed for that week's paper. When I arrived at 9:30, approximately 50 people were seated around the room. There were candidates, their wives, supporters, the press, and election officials. But there were no results, The radio was buzzing with returns from most any area within the Region before I left the office to go to election central, but poor old Scugog just kept reporting...no results available yet. It was almost 10:00 p.m. when the first results started to trickle in, and everyone's heart pace quickened as they saw the hopes of their candidates either looking good or rather dim. Scugog Island, the smallest ward in the township, was the last one to bring in their results, and up until they arrived many people were passing comments about how slow they were being returned. One man suggested that "Scugog might be in a different time zone', while another said that he heard "there had been an ambush on the Island". By the time that the Island's returns were posted the municipal office was jammed with close to 200 people. The room was dense with smoke and the drone of everyone talking was deafening. And then there was complete silence. Scugog Island's returns were being posted. A total of 546 people voted on the Island and it took over four hours to get the results, Maybe the township should look into a computor to count ballots next time around. , With the final tabulations in, the hall slowly began to empty as everyone left for home. It had been a long day for many. It will be a long two years for those who won, as one of the defeated candidates said, "Maybe I'm the lueky one...." Uxbridge buck-passing In Uxbridge, the Voter Hath Spoken, and what self-respecting government would be so callous as to ignore that most sacred of democratic institutions, freedom's foundation, and bedrock of Western purity. So as those pushy, unfeeling automotons from the federal government pack their bags and head into the frosty sunset dragging their mutilated penitentiary proposal behind them, Uxbridge area citizens can again breath a sigh of relief. . The Good Guys (those who. win) feel justly satisfied. They have saved Uxbridge from what they saw as a desecration of their community at the hands of the federal government. Only the collective voice of the "Little Guy" has made the difference, people will say with pride, pointing to the referendum as an example of the superiority of the democratic way of life. We can also assume from past experience that another community is...or soon will be...gearing up to take up the Uxbridge torch as penitentiary services officials come to call, hat-in-hand, for another crack at it. The argument could become circular. If Scugog and Uxbridge didn't want it, why should we? And so, like Diogenes' search for an honest man, the government stumbles likewise in its search for a responsible citizenry. After all, while Uxbridge celebrates its demo- cratic idealism, the government is faced with the political reality of an unsolved problem...a problem that the public has created but for which it refuses to accept responsibility. If they continue to follow their much-publicized policy of not forcing such institut- ions on any community that doesn't want them, we can assume that convicts will eventually be housed in pup tents on ice floes. It is just another example of one of the. fastest-growing phenomenons in our culture: The What's-in-it-for-me principle. For example, we can assume with some certainty that voters would have approved, en masse, tax grants for themselves, a program of better roads, more money for local schools, or any other beneficial piece of legislation that might be proposed. Yet, the other side of the coin...the responsibility side...is ignored. What is startling...and downright alarming...is the overwhelming majority of people who voted against the penitentiary. By a ratio of 3 to 1, Uxbridge voters passed the buck to some other municipality. Perhaps that is a message to those eternal optimists who keep seeing the "silent majority' as the magical, common-sense, level-headed and res- ponsible element in our society who will save our system from stagnation...in a pinch. (It has always seemed rather ludicrous to this writer how a group of people who are so apathetic that they've nothing to say, can possibly be counted on to backbone the system). Perhaps the most abused words in our political vocabulary is grass roots participation, public-input and public participation. But too many see it abused only by the government. "You mark my words," | recall hearing from a paranoid Scugog Islander who shook a finger under my nose, 'that grass roots stuff is a lot of bunk! The feds'll put 'er right where they want to, no matter what we say. You mark my words." Fortunately, he was wrong. Unfortunately, he could soon be right, and the fault will lie right in the public's lap. Bayonet bilingualism 2 This writer has always argued that the kind of i sentiment too often expressed by English-speaking i Canadians about their French-Canadian neighbours _ is the embryo of the hatred and violence that too 0 often evolves through intolerance. And too often, that view brought laughter and disbelief. But don't laugh too hard. A recent poll held by a Canadian television network revealed that about one out of every five polled would use force to keep Canada glorious and free (and together). Shades of Ireland, Lebanon, and Angola!