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p4fflmw8xmw m ent page hi h fi do you know where your children are if there is a bright side to the tragedy of the death of the seven- monthold infant in windsor last week it should be that now per haps parents will take heed and watch over their children with an increased awareness the infant wound up in the detroit river and now the childs parents are the subject of heavy scrutiny by the public and police and yet despite the media expo sure this case has received tribune staff witnessed a woman leave her infant unattended in the back seat of her car while she ran into a neighborhood store to do some fast shopping this is no longer a town where we can leave our doors unlocked when we go out and it is sheer irresponsibility and laziness to leave children unat tended regardless of their age few of us would leave our cars unlocked and running for any length of time and yet some would leave their car attended by a baby children are increasingly neglect ed in our society but to leave a child unattended for any reason and for any length of time is an abomination and is utterly inex cusable hark back to summer camps every morning on my drive into our stouffville office i invariably am stalled behind a string of school buses and just as the sun is sure to rise each day some snottynosed kid in the back of the bus directly in front of me leans over the seat and proceeds to make lewd gestures and crosseyed faces at me these children in my view are of the worst sort they know full well that i cant get out of my car board the bus and pummel them to within an inch of their life and they know they are getting a big old laugh from their fellow snottynosed passen gers at my expense for these are campers trundling off each summer morning to area retreats where they will make life a living hades for counsellors until minute with mair andrew mair they are relinquished into the care of their weary parents that evening i dislike summer campers and not just because they mock me from behind the confines of their bus windows i dislike them because at one time i too was a summer camper but only once i hated the camping scene from bonfires to latenight desenex fights summer camp was to my 10yearold mind the equivalent of a nazi work farm where brutal guards kept you on a demanding stouffvilleuxbridge tribune i publisher editorinchief editor director of advertising retail advertising mgr administration mgr dir of promotionsdistribution dir of operations patricia pappas jo ann stevenson stephen houston debra weller susan berry chris bertram jennifer hutt pam nichols published every wednesday by metroland printing publishing and distributing at 9 heritage rd markham ontario l3p 1m3 tel 2942200 second class registration number 1247 the stouffville tribune published every wednesday at 54 main st w stouffville is one of the metroland printing publishing and distributing group of suburban newspapers which includes the acton free press ajaxpickering news advertiser aurora banner brampton guardian burlington post etobicoke advertiserguardian georgetown independent kingston this week lindsay this week markham economist and sun milton champion mississauga news newmarket era oakville beaver oshawa- whitby this week peterborough this week richmond hillthornhillaaughan liberal scarborough mir ror topic newsmagazine willowdale mirror metroland printing publishing and distributing is a division of harlequin enterprises ltd national sales representative metroland corporate sales 4931300 6402100 8529741 and rigorous schedule and where each day you were forced into cramped and damp barracks with an assortment of sickly and insane inmates i did not do the daily summer camp routine where at least you can go home each evening i was shipped off to a twoweek camp and on an island to boot from the moment i arrived i knew it was not going to be the rollicking good fun the brochure had promised my parents for the most part i spent my camping days planning my escape i wrote a letter to my mother telling her to pick me up on the mainland at an allotted time on an allotted day as the day drew near i formulat ed my escape plan when all the campers went to bed i would sneak out swipe one of the rickety old sailboats and drift silently across the channel to safety the plan worked all but for one small detail i managed to smuggle aboard the small dinghy that would lead me to salvation all right but i failed to take into account that there is no wind on most lakes at 930 pm on a moonlit summers eve i got maybe 10 feet from the dock and was promptly becalmed the counsellors heard the splash ing as i tried to paddle the mile or so across the channel and came out and got me its probably a good thing since my mother hadnt even received my letter at that point and it would have been a long walk home after that episode the counsellors kept a pretty close watch over me they figured id make a break at any time but they underestimated a young enterprising mind bent on libera tion one day on a nature hike the counsellor advised us to beware a large patch of fauna he called poi son ivy thinking that if i couldnt walk swim boat or fly out of that pineclustered hell i just might be able to get carried out so i fell to the back of the pack and upon our return i made sure the other campers were out of sight i promptly sat in the field of poison ivy and began picking the red- stemmed plants by the time i got back to the cabin i had started to itch picking an entire grove of poisonous plants would certainly get me airlifted to the comforts a luxurious hospital i thought but to my dismay i had underes timated the healing powers of calamine lotion lathered up like marilyn bell before a lake swim i was relegated back to my cabin to lie motionless on my bunk for two days it was during my rehabilitation that i founded my dislike for campers a burly freckledface kid named bucky buchanan was the terror of our cabin and the other kids revered him for his antics he was the one who would steal the board out from under your mat tress on the top bunk he was the one who would put earthworms in your pillow case he was the one who pushed you off the dock and he would be the one who physically dragged you from your bed at 6 am for a polar bear dip he was a moron and likely went on to a life of crime or politics if you can detect a distinction and during my bout with poison ivy he would sneak up to my bunk and tickle me wherever i was visi bly rashed one day after my recovery he came up behind me on the archery range i while i prepared to let fly an arrow from my bow he hiked down my drawers the arrow flew all right landing beside a centre fielder on the neigh boring ball diamond that evening at my wits end i leapt from my bunk and confront ed bucky as he prepared for anoth er round of bullying in a mad flurry i bopped him squarely in the nose sending a tor rent of blood down his ruddy face a fight ensued and the counsel lor soon broke it up to my horror bucky was sent home for his actions i begged to share in his punishment but the counsellors were on to me by then the last two days of my camping experience it rained as though it would never stop the time dragged but finally the big ferry pulled up to the dock to take us all to the mainland in my excitement at finally being paroled i dropped my brothers brand new fishing rod in the water i had borrowed it in naive expecta tion of a good time i watched as the rod spiralled to the bottom of the lake and thought that it was a fitting end to what were perhaps the worst two weeks of my life discounting the year i spent in sudbury one weekend and now as i see the smirking goofy faces of the children heading off to camp each day i think of bucky i think of his bleeding nose smeared all over his face and his eyes big as pie plates in shock and pain and i smirk right back