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PAGE 6 â€" WATERLOO CHRONICLE. WwEDNESDAY, JUNE 13, 1984 ERCCENC OE Cmmc omm wron tm es it snninnaincomutonatine in c n cnan @ 0)- Waterloo Chronicle |S"zâ€"_ Opinion and Comment VE The pretzel logic department gained its newest member last week when Toronto Ald. Joe Pantalone blasted the Neighborhood Watch program as ‘"‘a message of fear." Pantalone claims the signs advertising the program are but a step removed from the ‘"Big Brother‘‘ image, that they create a false impression and don‘t solve a thing. What baâ€" loney. Neighborhood Watch has become a popular program the past few years locally and Waterloo Regional Police consider it one of their most valuable Crime Prevention programs. It draws the community together, creates a bond of trust, respect and responsibility among neighbors, and above all, delivers the message that crimes against property or persons will not be tolerated. Second Class Mail Registration Number 5540 _ In :l‘(;ronto,z;bout 717557,000 of 700,000 homes are involved and demand for signs is so high, works officials will be going back to the city to ask for more money to finance the deâ€" mand. And while we rejoice that maybe, just maybe, the interest is a signal of a return to oldâ€"fashioned values when neighbors cared about each other, Pantalone frets about the way the streets are becoming littered with signs. Wonderful. Metro Police are also somewhat concerned that the program is slow to win acceptance in ethnic communities, especially those where several cultures and languages are involved. But with Neighborhood Watch, the language should be universal. We have only to look back on the horrid child murders of recent months, the incidence of break and enter, and the despicable acts of vandalism that seem to be gaining popularity to realize the tremendous need for such a proâ€" As spokesmen for our local police have said in the past, the value of Neighborhood Watch is immeasurable because you can never gauge how much crime has been prevented by the presence of such innovative measures. But any program that fuses a community, especially one that has irrefutably reduced crime, is worth every bit of support that can be directed its way. _ S gram. It is not as much Big Brother that Ald. Pantalone should be worried about as his own questionable rationale. Condemnaâ€" tion of Neighborhood Watch is a crime itself, and one really has to wonder where he is coming from on the matter. "Quite frankly, my confidence level in them sunk to below the surface line." _ The Chronicle is proud of its tradition of accuracy and fair play but does acknowledge the possibility of human error. Constructive criticism of news, opinions and advertising is welcome in hopes that all complaints can be resolved. Those who feel further action is needed should address their concern to the Ontario Press Council, 151 Slater St.. Suite 708, Ottawa, Ont. KI1P 5H3. The Chronicle welcomes letters to the editor. They should be individually signed with name, address and telephone number and will be verified for accuracy. No unsigned letters will be published and the Chronicle reserves the right to edit. Watch dog gistration Number 5540 established 1854 published every Wednesday by Fairway Press, a division of Kitchenerâ€"Waterioo Record Ltd., owner 225 Fairway Rd. S., Kitchener, Ont. Press Council Letters policy It is written address correspondence to Waterioo office: 45 Erb St. E.. Waterloo, Ont. N2J 1L7, telephone 886â€"2830 Waterloo Chronicle office is located in the Haney, White Law Office Building (rear entrance, upper floor) Parking at the rear of the buiiding Open Monday to Friday 9 00 a m to 5:00 p m Publisher: Paul Winkler Manager: Bill Karges Editor: Rick Campbell Mayor Marjorie Carroli in reference to surprise recommendations by consultants to Waterioo‘s proposed water storage + facility. â€" SEE PAGE 3 THERE has been a tremendous change in the manners and mores of Canada in the past three decades. This brilliant thought came to me as I saw a sign today, in a typical Canadian small town: "Steakhouse and Tavern." Now this didn‘t exactly knock me out, alarm me, or discombobulate me in any way. 1 am a part of all that is in this country, at this time. But it did give me a tiny twinge. Hence my opening remarks. I am no Carrie Nation, who stormed into saloons with her lady friends, armed with hatchets, and smashed open (what a waste) the barrels of beer and kegs of whiskey. I am no Joan of Arc. 1 don‘t revile blasphemers or hear voices. I am no Pope John Paul II, who tells people what to do about their sex lives. I am merely an observer of the human scene, in a country that used to be one thing, and has become another. But that doesn‘t mean I don‘t have opinions. 1 have nothing but scorn for the modern "objective" journalists who tell it as it is. They are hyenas and jackals, who fatten on the leavings of the "lions" of our society, for the most part. Let‘s get back on topic, as I tell my students. The Canadian society has roughened and coarsened to an astonishing degree in the last 30 years. First, the Steakhouse and Tavern. As a kid working on the boats on the Upper Lakes, I was excited and a little seared when I saw that sign in American ports: Duluth, Detroit, Chicago. 1 came from the genteel poverty of Ontario in the Thirties, and 1 was slightly appalled, and deeply attracted by these signs: the very thought that drink could be publicly advertised. Like any normal, curious kid, 1 went into a couple, ordered a twoâ€"bit whiskey, and found nobody eating steaks, but a great many people getting sleazily drunk on the same. Not the steaks. In those days, in Canada, there was no such creature. The very use of the word "tavern‘ indicated iniquity. It was an evil place. We did have beer "parlours," later exchanged for the euphemism ‘"beverage rooms.‘"‘ But that was all right. Only the lower element went there, and they closed from 6 p.m. to 7: 30, or some such, so that a family man could get home to his dinner. Not a bad idea. Hooâ€"LoJ T Ho?Pé T HAVEN‘T MGSEP TE Foukt« Barcot! e tacc ts is C 7 uo) â€"> Câ€"â€"(a@0o5b1l€E ko/l \3% ;% mnxs 7B â€" 71 KNEW IT WAS A MIOTAKE TO HOLD OurR CONYVENTION IN THE SAME HALL AS Bad trend Bill Smiley Syndicated columnist In their homes, of course, the middle and upper class drank liquor. Beer was the workingâ€" man‘s drink, and to be shunned. It was around then that some wit reversed the old saying, and came out with: ‘"Work is the curse of the drinking class," a neat version of Marx‘s(?) ‘‘Drink is the curse of the working classes." If you called on someone in those misty days, you were offered a cuppa and something to eat. Today, the host would be humiliated if he didn‘t have something harder to offer you. These steakhouses and taverns are usually pretty sleazy joints, on a par with the old beverage room, which was the epitome of sleaze. It‘s not all the fault of the owners, though they make nothing on the steak and 100 per cent on the drinks (minimum). It‘s just that Canadians tend to be noisy and crude and profane drinkers. It has crept into our educational system, where teachers drink and swear and tell dirty jokes and use language in front of women that 1, a product of a more wellâ€"mannered, or inhibited, your choice, era, could not bring myself to use. Now, every hamlet seems to have its steakâ€" house, complete with tavern. It‘s rather ridicuâ€" lous. Nobody today can afford a steak. But how in the living world can these same people afford drinks, at current prices? And the crudity isn‘t only in the pubs. It has crept into Parliament, that august institution, with a prime minister who used street language when his impeccable English failed, or he wanted to show how tough he was. And the language of today‘s students, from Grade one to Grade whatever, would curl the hair of a sailor, and make your maiden aunt grab for the smelling salts. Words from the lowest slums and slummiest barnyards create rarely a blush on the cheek of your teenage daughter. Girls wear Tâ€"shirts that are not even funny, merely obscene. As do boys. Saw one the other day on an otherwise nice lad. Message: ‘‘Thanks, all you virgins â€" for nothing." The Queen is a frump. God is a joke. The country‘s problems are somebody else‘s probâ€" lem, as long as I get mine. s 0 I don‘t deplore. I don‘t abhor. I don‘t implore. I merely observe. Sadly. We are turning into a nation of slobs.