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To the Editox Not long ago I was enjoying a fine dinnex with my family at the fickle Pickle on Main Street. I mention this location because of what I saw through the window as we were having dinnet. luat acme: the way, there wai a young man waiting for a break in the traffic before aouing the street. It was a coolinh, {any evening, and traffic was pretty light, but the young man seemed nervous about his chances of mixing it to the other side safely. Finally, after about five minutes, a suitable gap appeared and he cxoucd the road and went on his way. I wondered why he needed to wait that long in such cold, wet weather to cross. Why did any of the driven not notice his plight and allow him safe passage? Was it that they didn’t see him? Had they thought his having to cross the street not important enough to slow down for a couple of seconds, or were they simply not courteous enough to make the effort? Unfortunately I suspect it is a combination of the two. There is a lot of talk about the diminishing small town temperament in Steuffville, and I think this small panorama is indicative of that. For all the posturing of our elected representatives, well meaning proclamations by community leaders and other prominent citizens, and poorly thought-out legislated character initiatives by a rey'onal government that should know better, the small town character that we are so desperate to hold on to rests in the hands of only one group of people: you, the good citizens of Stouffville. The charming character of a small town is not ma‘mtamed as the result of some effort by the council and town staff. It is not measured by the SIR of the theatre See Character on page 8 This beautiful house on Davis Drive, which Is designated under the Ontario Heritage Act. was constructed circa 1840 and is one of just six stone dwellings in Whitchurch-Stouffville. Photo courtesy of Whitchurch-Stouffville Museum Drs. McDowell, Genin, apfle Jesus Wasting water to retain waste water! Where is the town's environment committee? Thos. E. Winters 905-640-1867 6085 Main St., 905-642-3937 MONTHLY MALAISE Historic Photo Out of character Egég'liiégs ‘End'galantact Lenses Welcomlng new patlents ’ers Write Iffville The next minor miracle presented 1:, itself in the form of a neglected pair of black dress pants, the kind which can be rolled into a ball and chucked into an overflowing drawer of stuff, yet still appear to be freshly ironed once draped about the body, disguis- ing the lumpy bits. Big bonus: they actually matched my jacket. I was r. 121‘"? One beautiful spring morning I drove to Mukham, pteway to the south, to attend the Christian Blind Mission's (twinning brukfut. The day started early. My alum went off at 6 I.m., a time of day when u wouldn't want to meet me. lndee , meeting my own reflection in the bathroom minor is an ex ri- ence not to be undertaken ' l y or wmto at such an unlov y bout. Althou I used to get up early evety day, I gave it up for Len! once md have never looked back Nevertheless, there were peo le to see and breakfast to eat Ind’l didn't want to be late, so I averted my eyes from cruel reality and went to my closet to see if I had anything remotely presentable to wear. I was greeted by racks of jeans, sweatshirts and hoodies hanging about in hap- hazard fashion, looking as crumpled as I felt. Then I saw it, the forgotten gem; a power iacket with a cool edge, the kind worn by incredibly efficient type A persons of the female gender; in short. my polar opposites. I had bought this classy addition to my motley mix of clothing two years ear- lier in a rare fit of forward plannin . It's the kind of jacket which is usu owned by someone who would have decided what to wear for breakfast at least 12 hours beforehand, instead of in a panic at the last minute. MQLLER \ â€" HNSURANCE LTD. Personalized Insurance Service By Kate Cfldctdalc 64 Sandiford Drive, Unit 1, STOUFFVILLE 0‘ [allerinsurnnrn rnm - o“\‘“e“/ sumnfilw look almost human and it was s!’ only 6310 __ . By the min 7 rolled around, I was styhrhly (for me) dressed and ready, and reversing unimpeded onto Main Street. To my astonishment, the road was clear in both directions, as if someone had already closed it off for the Strawberry Pettival. Now I knew I must be druming. l was ' it in {elation to the cnumce went into the hotel. Aha a wonderful andmovmg re. amnion, and a delicious bmkgu, l «rived a! my Restitution a scant 20 minutes later, parked the car, looked around carefully to see when “wuumctobudbacktothe'lee. My fellow scribe, Pam Mandich, was mung next to me and needed a ride home, and I was happy to oblige. It was just a matter of finding the car. When we got outside, Basil, my Mini, was nowhere to be seen We walked about aimlessly for a few minutes until Pam came up with a brilliant suggestion ‘Maybe it’s in the other parking lot,’ she said, sagely. Being severely geographically challenged, it didn't occur to me that there could be more than one, but it did explain why I didn’t recall the trees or the grass verge which had apparently sprung up during break- fast. If it hadn't been for Pam, I would probably still be walking home. Even though she is organized, impeccably dressed and prone to constant bursts of multi-tasking, I still think of her as a friend, especially in times of a car loss crisis. Some people are focused and oth- ers are vague to the point of lunacy and there are no prizes for figuring out which category I inhabit Baby you cab ride in my car. But first you have-to find it.