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letters - Reader needs research help Dear Sir: I am writing to you in the hope that your news- paper, or some prede- cessor may have an obituary for a family I am researching. The names 1 am interested in is my Great Grandfather William Hughes and his wife Jane McDowell (or McDole). William, we presume, was born in either Manvers or Cart- wright Township and Jane McDowell, possib- ly nearby. William Hughes was born in 1807 and died Nov. 27, 1892. Jane was born in 1812 and died July 6, 1867. I have researched the Lindsay Public Library Archives, newspapers and the Lindsay Daily Post to no avail and they suggested that I write to you. PORT PERRY STAR -- Tues. January 17, 1984 -- § the PORT PERRY STAR CO. LITHTED A 139 QUEEN STREET £.0 80K 90. PORT PERRY. ONTARIO LO8 WO ' (410) 905-738) { () | I a J. PETER HVIDSTEN ©) I am most interested ents, brothers, sisters, Ao er Member othe on Wheto they Jjvad and (Turn to page 9) : Canadian Community Newspaper Association their ancestry, eg.-par- J.B. McCLELLAND and Ontario Community Newspaper Association. tt 8 Editor . Published every Tuesday by the Lo [& mania . Port Perry Star Co. Ltd., Port Perry, Ontario. CATHY ROBB y News & Features Authorized as second class mail by the Post Office Dear Sir: The current national mania over the largest tax-free lottery prize ever 'offered brings to mind an ancient pro- verb which, if I recall correctly, states that you can lie on your back with your mouth open for an awfully long time before a roast duck will fall in. Helps keep it all in perspective, doesn't it? Yours very truly, Robert S. Sutherland Port Perry A | "Ree $ 2arens as30SME Department, Ottawa, and tor cash payment of postage in cash. WAOVAN COMMUN, § 4 Second Class Mail Registration Number 0265 108 Subscription Rate: In Canada $15.00 per year. Elsewhere $45,00 per year. Single copy: 35* remember when: 60 YEARS AGO Thursday, January 1924 Miss Estelle Bull has returned home from holidaying at her home in Bloomfield and has resumed her music classes. Radios have been installed in the Blackstock area homes of Rev. R.G. Carruthers, Mr. Russel Willan and Mr. S.A. Devitt. Mr. Arthur Jeffrey, Prince Albert, is attending the Guelph Agricultural College. 35 YEARS AGO Thursday, January 20, 1949 $400.00 was raised in the Box Social held by the Brooklin Shuffleboard Club. All proceeds went to the Arena Fund. Mr. Lester Beadle returned to his parents home in Ashburn recently, after a very busy year in construction work. A new furnace has been installed at the Head School which is giving much better satisfaction. The Utica Young People's Group held a Skating Party at Jimmy Wilkinson's last Friday night. 25 YEARS AGO Thursday, January 15, 1959 The Hon. M.B. Dymond, Minister of Health in On- tario, performed his first official act when he officiated at the opening of the Uxbridge Hospital. He cut the cord with a golden scalpel. Douglas Edenborough, son of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Edenborough, Port Perry, has been chosen to be a Page Boy for the Legislative Assembly. After an absence of several years, Port Perry will be represented by an O.R.H.A. Senior Team this year. The team will be composed entirely of players who have graduated from Port Perry Minor Hockey Associations. 20 YEARS AGO Thursday, January 16, 1964 Douglas Hogg, Port Perry, was elected President of Ontario Riding Young Progressive Conservatives at their 'annual meeting in January. Five Blackstock Guides received their All Round Cor- ds, Guiding's highest achievement. The Guides were Elizabeth Thompson, Judy Cochrane, Margaret Car- " naghan, Nancy Dorrell and Sheila Tomchishin. Port Perry's Inaugural Meeting was attended by Reeve J.J. Gibson, Deputy-Reeve John Orde, Councillors Robert Kenny, Bruce Beare and Ivan Parkinson. 15 YEARS AGO Thursday, January 16, 1969 Adult Education Night School classes which were to have started this week were cancelled due to lack of response in registrations. The wharf at the foot of Queen Street, owned by On- tario Government, was offered for sale to the Village of Port Perry for an amount in accordance to current market value of the structure. The local council stated the purchase price should be no more than the nominal sum of $1.00. Limited, won his third consecutive trip to Florida in a sales contest offered by the real estate firm. Doreen Jones, Ashburn, was elected 1969 President of the Ontario County Junior Farmers during their annual meeting held in Sunderland Township Hall. Vice- president was Keith Phoenix, Greenbank; Secretary- Treasurer - Bob Hunter, Seagrave and County Provincial Director - Carle Parliament, Cannington. One hundred acres of real estate with a two-storey four bedroom brick home, bank barn and machine shed could be purchased in January 69 for $35,000 with terms. 10 YEARS AGO Thursday, January 16, 1974 Freezing temperatures hampered attempts by Scugog Volunteer Firefighters to save the 100 year old farmhouse of Lloyd Durward on Lot 17, Concession 7 of Reach Township. The home was completely destroyed but other buildings at the hog farm were undamaged. Cause of the fire was stated to be from either an electrical problem or a faulty chimney in the upstairs of the home. Prices advertising local lumber company products included: Aluminum storm doors - $22.00 each; ceiling tiles - 12 cents each and Panelling - $2.95 a sheet. Marjorie Jackson presented the trophy on behalf of Flamingo Pastries to weekend bonspiel winners Shirley Barr, vice-skip, Marie Foster, skip; Helen Parrish, second and Erlyne Young, lead. George S. Stone, local representative for H. Keith bill smi THE WELL OF GOODNESS Since this column will not appear until after Christmas, I won't send greetings, except that I hope you had a merry one and didn't get run over on New Year's Eve; Run over either way. Last year was a violent and fearful year on this earth. If I were a Bible-thumper, I'd surely believe that Armagedden is just around the corner. Even the plea of the American diplomat at the U.N. to the Israelis and the Arabs that if only they'd get together and settle their grievances in a Christian manner didn't have much effect. However, I'm not going to write about the evil in the world and in man's heart. It's too obvious. I'm going to write about the good. I've been bereft for some weeks (I know, Roger Bell, you'll be saying he's been bereft for years). Anyway, I've learned and I hope it's not too late, that there is a deep well of goodncss and kindness beneath our world-weary, ordinary, every day sterility. I still can't believe that so many people care about me. My colleagues, to whom I thought I was just Old Smiley, have shown a sensitivity I honestly didn't credit them with. With the men, it's the obligatory three thumps on my sore shoulder, and a mumbled word of sympathy, or a "How are you, Bill?" instead of the usual, casual "Hi. " With the women, it's more subtle. It's just a caring look, a special gentleness, an invitation to supper, an offer to help me into my jacket, which is a painful business. My principal has been a brick (watch your type-setting there, Jack). He has done everything logically possible to ease my physical and emotional pain. Had I wished, I could have dined out every night of the week. As it is, I've had three roast beef dinners, more than I've had in three years, with charming, cag- ing families. A lady friend and colleague who is an excellent cook, sent around a hot, right out of the oven, chicken pie. When I phoned to thank her and tell her it was the best chicken pie I'd ever eaten, there was a crash of thunder and a big limb fell off my oak tree. (Take it easy, Suze, wherever you are. I was only being polite). There have been letters, not just cards, of sympathy from two former cleaning ladies, my wife's hairdresser, her former piano students and many others she dealt with saying how much they had liked her. My neighbours have been superb, as always. Flowers, food, offers of help, and the decency to leave me alone for a while, to gnaw the bones of my grief. Her piano-tuner and his wife drove two hundred miles to pay their respects. A card would have done. Even my son, with whom my relationship has been rather hit-or-miss in the past few years, has turned in- to a hovering angel. No phoney sympathy, no maudlin meanderings. Hard work. He's done more practical hard work around here than in all the other years put together. Preparing food and making me eat. Shovell- ing snow. Vacuuming rugs. Shopping for groceries. Making me rub castor oil into my sore shoulder. Forc- ing me to eat porridge (ugh) but making it so delicious with fruit and stuff, that I actually enjoyed it. I could go on for two columns. But I won't. This is just a note of thanks to God that he has put into people not nastiness and bitchiness and self-pity and self- centredness (they developed those on their own), but kindness and tenderness and goodness and gentleness and the ability to care for one insignificant fellow human. Something else I've learned. John Donne said. "No man is an island." Of course he isn't. A man is a mere tuft of grass in a quagmire. In comparison, a woman (most women), are continents. | Suze and I used to bicker constantly, as I'm sure you do, about who had the hardest job. She: "You have no idea what I do around here. You're useless. You can't even change a light bulb; or won't. I have to deal with all the workmen, pay the bills, clean the house, wash your dirty clothes, and come up with a gourmet dinner." And so on. I: "Yabbut you can sleep in in the morning if you want, have a nap after lunch, watch soap operas, visit friends, and you don't have to get up every morning and face those rotten kids all day. And besides, who earns all the money 80 you can have all that freedom?" On both bended knees, I take it all back. You'll never hear a male chauvinist in this column ever again. She's been gone only a few weeks, and I'm sur- rounded by unpaid bills, dirty laundry, grubby sinks, ring around the bathtub, and huge piles of paper that have to be dealt with. I can't run the washing machine, I burn everything I put in the oven. And I can't FIND anything. Yes, there's a triumphant, slightly malevolent ra- diance in the sky. She's reading my column. |