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TREMP NTE RY Try YW Tem Nyy Uh hh TENET YY Ww Tw TY TY MMe ttUTTYTY OT Tew hm Ta -- Nw TWN YT > 4 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, November 11, 1986 Editorial Comments Where Were The People? Last Sunday morning a Remembrance Day Service was held at the Cenotaph at the Port Perry Legion. As always, it was a touching and moving occasion devoted to the Canadians who lost their lives in the service of their country dur- ing two World Wars and the Korean War. There was a marching band, of course and the Legion Colour Guard. Legion members in their blue blazers, some of them starting to show the passing of the years, marched behind the band. Young cadets, from the High School who have never fired a shot in anger, .and God willing, never will, also marched, as did a group of local firefighters and some Girl Guides. The weather, as usual at this time of year, was less than perfect for a parade as a vicious, biting wind from the north chilled most of those present to the bone. The parade followed a course down Bay Street to Rosa, up Balsam to Simcoe, and finished where it started in front of the Legion building and the Cenotaph on which are inscribed the names of local men who fell in battles long ago. During the service, a member of the Legion read aloud those names, but for most assembled his words were carried off in the swirl- ing winds. Wreaths were placed at the base of the Cenotaph to honour the - deeds and the memories of those who paid the ultimate price. Two young buglers from the local Cadet Corps played Last Post and Heveille, and as heads bowed in silent prayer, the haunting notes from the bugles no doubt raised a tear in the eyes of those who remember their lost comrades in arms. The parade and the service in front of the Cenotaph lasted maybe an hour, but there was no shortage of dignity appropriate for an oc- casion most solemn. Yet, there was one thing missing: people. One could not help but notice that the people of Port Perry and Scugog Township stayed away in droves. | To be sure, there were a few who stood beside the road to watch the parade march by and there were more who stood in the cold wind as the wreaths were laid and the bugles sounded. But one could not help but think that when a community like Port Perry and Scugog Township gathers to pay tribute to the war dead, the people of the community would at least take the time on a Sun- day morning to show up. Why is is that when the Legion Remembrance Parade and Ser- vice are held, one can almost count on one hand the number of non- participants? : Are we too busy on Sunday morning to take a few minutes? Do . we think that simply wearing a poppy for a few days is sufficient? Or have we reached a point where we just don't care anymore? The reason for the lack of people at the service and parade is likely a combination of all of the above. And that is a sad fact of the age and times we live in. There should be people, young, old, teenagers, baby boomers, lining the parade route and standing all around the grounds for the Cenotaph service. ~ There should be, but there wasn't. Taking an hour on a single Sunday morning in an entire year to pay tribute to the more than 100,000 Canadians who died in the wars, should be something that most citizens of the community and the country should do, without hesitation. Port Perry (Qa A Cn | EJ 235 QUEEN STREET - PORT PERRY, ONTARIO -- Phone 985-7383 P.O Box90 LOB INO J. PETER HVIDSTEN Publisher Advertising Manager Member of the Canadian Community Newspaper Association and Ontario Community Newspaper Association Published every Tuesday by the Port Perry Star Co Ltd Port Perry Ontarw J.B. McCLELLAND Editor Authorized as second class mail by the Post Ottice Department. Ottawa, and tor cash payment of postage in cash CATHY OLLIFFE News & Features Second Class Mail Registration Number 0265 , (Qo) " Subscription Rate: In Canada $15.00 per year Boia 200s av oliia Elsewhere $45 00 per year. Single Copy 35° | tising department of the Port Perry Star Company Limited are protected under copyright and may not be reproduced without the written permission of the publisher -------- | REALLY DROPPED BY TO GE A GREASE JOB ON My QUEBEC WING, BUT RAN INTO SOME HEAVY FLAK OVER MANITOBA / ve Cr CANADAIR (INTENANCE DEPOT -. 1 OCOPYRIGHT -- All layout and composition of advertisements produced by the adver | Chatterbox by Cathy Olliffe IN VOGUE , My goodness, I'm full of myself this week. You see, dahlings, I've been discovered. Just like Lana Turner in the soda shoppe, I've been ear- marked for the big time. Except, I wasn't discovered in a soda shoppe. I was sitting behind my desk, as a matter of fact, minding other people's business (it's my job), when the fastest-talking salesperson since Herb Tarlick breezed in talking about a fashion show. A YMCA fashion show, to be exact, with me in it. "Oh no," I said. Immediately. Firmly. "No way." YMarily, her name is Marilyn, no relation to the big-busted Monroe of movie fame, I don't think, wouldn't take no for an answer. But I tried the two-letter word again, anyways. Alas, it fell on deaf ears. Heavy sigh. Why in the world, I asked myself, was I being asked to take part in a fashion show? After all, Christie Brinkley, I am not. The last time I did any modelling was in grade seven when I was forced to show off an absolutely dreadful mish- mash of material I concocted for the Franklin St. Public School Sewing Club. My mother snapped a photo of that utterly forgettable event, and there it still sits in one of her photo albums. Frozen gait, twisted grin, wob- bly knees. : "No, Marilyn," I said abruptly. "I just can't." But this was impassioned plea enough to dissuade her? Is old age enough to stop Joan Collins from posing nude? : Is good taste enough to stop people from reading the National Enquirer? No. She talked me into it. The lure of having peo- ple pouff my raven locks, powder my gub and dress me up was too much to resist. The YMCA wanted me in the show. Probably to guarantee some free publicity. I didn't want to do it, but something snapped, and I agreed. After Marilyn left, and for the next two weeks, I worried about what I had gotten myself into. Right up to the moment I stepped on stage, I regretted my decision. But in that split second between back stage and onstage, | was re-born. A smile as wide as Lake Scugog swept across my made-up gub, I tossed my coiffed curls and strode across that stage like I owned it. By geez, | feel great. The old adrenalin cours- ed through my veins as my hips swivelled through the first set, the second, the third and the fourth. By the time the finale rolled around, I was as con- fident as Christie Brinkley herself. "This is Fun!" I kept babbling inanely, to anyone who would listen. I kept hoping a talent scout for Vogue magazine was in the audience at the Port Perry United Church auditorium. Surely, if there was, I will be hearing from Vogue any day now. And if I do, I'm gone. The bright lights, the Big Apple will beckon and I will leave for New York, New York in my shiniest pair of vagabond shoes. After all, I've missed my calling. How can be- ing a mere reporter compare to the glamour of appearing in the pages of Vogue, to exposing one's cleavage on the cover of Cosmopolitan, and to making a couple million bucks a year? So, I'm waiting. Any minute now the phone will ring. I know this. Whatever you do, don't phone me unless you're a talent scout or a magazine publisher. I just can't have those lines tied up. I know Vogue will phone. They will. They have to. Don't they? MONOPOLY THRILLS Well, it's all over. The Great Scugog Monopoly Championship is said and done with. Only the scars and a few questions remain. How will Adam Danter, the grand champion spend his $100 prize money? Will he blow it on something foolish or will he split it with the Monopoly organizer, Namely, me. . : Will Angie Kroonenberg and Doug Olliffe, the only two finalists older than 13, ever get over be- ing creamed by three adolescents? Will their egos ever recover? Will Sam Cureatz ever find his camera? The poor guy, lost his camera at the preliminary round in Town Hall 1873 Saturday, November 1st. Did one of the losers steal it or what? Did the film con- tain government secrets? If so, were any of the players soviet agents? And how about Christopher Espey and his hunger for power? Or should I say, power for hunger? Everytime that guy got to winning, he'd resort to something to eat. Does power fuel hunger, or what? Maybe scientists should study him. What about the connection between Adam Danter and Drew Cardinal? During the Cham- pionship round, they worked closely together. Rumour has it they split the $100 first prize. Is the true, or is it a rumour spread by sore losers, Angie and Doug? And speaking of Adam Danter, could\he still have won if his Dad hadn't coached him? Hmmmmm? More to the point, is Monopoly really a game of luck or skill? The world, as we know it, may never know.