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Second Class Mail Registration Number 5540 PAGE 6 â€" WATERLOO CHRONICLE, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21. 1983 Dark, ominous clouds. Thunder in the distance. The annoying splish splash of raindrops. o It wasn‘t exactly an ideal way to start a 10â€"kilometre event. Especially when the event was Sunday‘s third annual Terry Fox Run to raise money for cancer research. â€" But for the several hundred who huddled indoors at the registration desk at Chicopee Ski Club, the weather was really insignificant. â€" They were there for a reason, and lousy, wet weather , bothersome as it was, was not about to halt their mission. It seemed almost like cruel fate when organizer Sherry O‘Rourke announced through a megaphone her thanks to participants and to start the race that the skies should open so unmercifully in torrential buckets. But they did. A sure bet though is that many of the participants, who ended up raising about $4,000 more than last year, had thoughts go through their minds of several years ago. At a time when a courageous oneâ€"legged runner, unquestionably the greatest hero figure of our time, pushed on himself through the same torrents. Never allowing his spirited flame to be extinguished. Never allowing negative forces to take total control. Continuing on, with one selfless goal overriding all others. ONE of the many things that occasionâ€" ally arouse my ire is ancient, selfâ€"satisâ€" fied, rightâ€"wing journalists who reiterate that Canadian young people are basically bums, spoiled by affluent parents, ready to flop onto welfare, eager to grab unâ€" employment insurance after a few months of work, lazy on the job, irresponsible, averse to anything resembling a dirty job, or a menial one, whatever that is. Many disinterested parties likely pondered the rationale of those who kept on through the inclement conditions, in groups of two, five, 10, whatever. Apathy and cynicism, it seems, often go hand in hand. The same writers celebrate young Gerâ€" mans who go into an apprenticeship at 14, work like dogs for peanuts until they are journeymen, and by the time they are master craftsmen, are too old to enjoy anything but a glass of beer and a snooze in front of the television set. â€" These writers would prefer our young people to be semiâ€"robots, like the Japaâ€" nese, who join a company, live with the company, eat with the company, suckle from the company, clap hands when the company gives them a holiday, and are retired when they are too old to work any more, but not fired: they get a job sweeping up the joint at barely enough yen to put rice on the table. It is not overâ€"dramatizing to say that Sunday‘s assembled multitude was made of the same stuff that made Terryâ€" Fox so great, so loved. â€" Hey, it was absolutely rotten out there, and any one individual who had the guts to show up could have easily opted for the warmth of a cosy bed on a Sunday morning. But they, like Terry (and because of Terry) didn‘t take the easy way out. They laughed, they screamed, they cursed. But most of all, they continued the course, and the dream. A lot of people in these Twin Cities missed out Sunday on a glorious chance to witness some of our finest citizens do some of their best work. That is a lot of crap, and one of the worst purveyors of it is R.J. Needham, an Terry Fox didn‘t miss out, though. He saw. Qnd for 473 brave souls, that is the greatest reward of all. Congratulations. BILL SMILEY published every Wednesday by Fairway Press, a division of Kitchenerâ€"Waterioo Record Ltd., owner 225 Fairway Rd.S., Kitchener, Ont. It lives Waterloo Chronicle office is located in the Harper, Haney and White Law Office Building (rear entrance, upper floor) Parking at the rear of the building. Open Monday to Friday, 9:00 a m to 5:00 p.m address correspondence to Waterioo office 45 Erb St. E., Waterloo, Ont. N2J 1L7, telephone 886â€"2830 occasional columnist with Canada‘s selfâ€" boosting title of Canada‘s National Newsâ€" paper, one of the great misnomers of the century. If a man bites a dog in Toronto, it‘s frontâ€"page stuff. If a dog bites a man in the Yukon, or a halibut bashes a fishingâ€"boat in Newfie, that‘s a little "amusing" paragraph on Page 18. _ ‘""Mad dogs attack natives." "Crazed monster fish smashes dinghy; four killed." But back to Needham and people like him. When he began his column, then daily, I liked it. He was good for an aphorism or two. He had a refreshing attitude toward women and young people. Some of his fairyâ€"tale analogies were delightful. He got out and talked to kids. He thought they were great and their straight middleâ€"class parents were all He has changed almost completely. He _ ." " ""*, *A w EC uV now thinks most young people are bums, tn?epe.dent They don‘t want to say, "Ah, that Canadians have no spunk left in them.__ 30‘ When the boss says they are going to He goes on and on about how he‘s never out _ 82 2 Wage cut; or "Bitte schoen‘" when of a job in his life. He quotes the Wall St. the b“‘l says they‘ll work Sunday mornâ€" Journal;, and most of his wit comes out of ing, or else. Bartiett‘s Familiar Quotations. He carries But most people want to work, and are Publisher: Paul Winkler Manager: Bill Karges Editor: Rick Campbell established 1854 * ...the alignment of Bridge Street looks different on &ke map than it does when you are standing in her backyard." No young bums It is written on his fiction that there isn‘t a male in Canada with any Ssense of gallantry, humor or courtesy toward the opposite sex. He makes snide remarks about homoâ€" sexuals, and gives the general impression that he‘d like to see the cops out with clubs, keeping ‘"order‘‘ by bashing anybody who protests against anything. I have singled out Mr. Needham, but he‘s only a symbol. I once heard him say that no poetry had been written worth reading since Tennyson. That‘s because Tennyson rhymed, you see. I gave him the appropriate oneâ€"word answer, and he had the grace to back off a bit. But what I am getting to, and it‘s taking me a while, is that most of the young people in Canada, and their elders, are willing to work, and want to work, but they don‘t want to be slaves or blueâ€"collar workers mecessarily. They want to be independent. They don‘t want to say, "Ah, so!"" when the boss says they are going to get a wage cut; or "Bitte schoen‘"‘ when the boss says they‘ll work Sunday mornâ€" ing, or else. These guys are mostly young. They work like dogs, but there‘s nobody going around with a whip to make sure they don‘t slow down. There doesn‘t even seem to be a foreman, running around, shouting epithâ€" ets. They enjoy what they‘re doing, though it‘s hard, backâ€"breaking work, long hours, and most wages below $7 an hour. (Try to get a plumber or an electrician for that.) happy when they are working. I‘ve seen an excellent example in the past couple of weeks. A construction company has torn our street to ribbons with their huge backâ€"hoes and frontâ€"end loaders. And what do they have to look forward to when the job‘s done, and weather slows construction work to a crawl? They‘ll probably have to go on pogey, to keep their families alive. If that‘s wrong, then let‘s create a state in which a guy is told where he‘s going to work, how much he‘s going to get, what size accommodation he can have, lots of whips and guns, no right to say what he wants about his boss or the prime minister â€" a mass of "happy‘ workers, producing like hell, for no known Ald. Jim Erb, asking council _ to reconsider a proposed route of Bridge Street through Evelyn McLaughlin‘s property. â€"SEE PAGE 1