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â€"Carrier Corner Many think 1 am not But I am quick and self centered Scurrying to do my important things... My son was bornâ€"and as he grew He asked me things. But mine are more_ important. Later‘ Son Later‘ I Denied his soul. Ah yes. Food, clothing and his actions Topped my concerns. He grew in many ways, mostly away And when our souls met It was brief enjoyment, (but 1 can do that later, later), Or Anger in its place. I took three small days, it was not much. We walked the paths, sang the songs, climbed the mountains, And listened to the trees... I listened to him too And found he knew things that I just learnt And over half my life I‘ve lived........ What have I done! To me...To him. Dear God, I Plead with You! I have long reached the summit of my And he approaches his. Will he quickly pass me by on this path, and say ‘"Later‘ Dad later"? Or will he walk with me for awhile? He did not see my many tears, This raging Grief, this sad Depression. I have a new born. He is eleven. I honour his soul. May 1 say to my important things. Later! Later‘ Or am I too late???? Dear God, Thankâ€"you! For a smallerâ€"and I Acceptâ€"a bigger man th&n 1. A space of our ownâ€" Am I Too Late? Dave Schmidt A picture you would like to see published? Do it A Space of Our Own for the people of Waterioo Please Address all correspondence to: Do you have a story to tell? Waterioo, Ontario N2J 117 att: Rick Campbell, editeor To Ryan From Dad Waterioo Chronicke "A Space of Our Own®"‘ 45 Erb St. E. Everyone gathers to see greatness; The loudest, the highest, the deepest And therefore the best. Many times I questioned, ‘*Paradox or nothing"? Greatness from a man who does not Openly speak, openly touch or openly offer? My mother showed me how to love The words, the touch, the smile. She would pick it up And pass it right to me. No... â€" No, not my father. He does not offer it. He holds it... As silently and gently as the heaven holds its stars As steadfast as the mountain hoids its As deep as the ocean holds its sea Great capacity for love Is what he‘s shown me. Dave is 15 and delivers in the Union, Herbert, Bowman area of the city. He‘s a grade 9 student at KCI. & Dave loves to go to dances and concerts, and his favorite group is heavy metal‘s Iron Maiden. He‘d love nothing better than to someâ€" day attend one of their concerts. Music, music, music is what makes the world go ‘round for Chronicle carrier Dave Schmidt. Once he‘s finished school, in fact, Dave would like to follow in the footsteps of his heroes and become a heavy metal singer himself. My Father Contributed by Richard Mader, Waterloo, Ont. A Child It‘s a wonderful feeling for a child to know that they have parents who care. And there‘s nothing in the world wrong with the expression "I just want my kids to have the things I never had." What is wrong is when that expression turns to obsession, shrouded invariably in the comment "therefore, I have every right to expect that..." Yet often, too often, that is the case. « A roleâ€"model supreme with everything going for him, Gretzky is unbelievably talented in his profession, charming, good looking, mature beyond his years, and modest to a fault. And rich, too. What sane papa wouldn‘t want that in a son, especially one who constantly praises and credits the old man for getting him where he is today. But what are the odds of that happening? Right. Near zilch. Five doHars, please. Dr. Sigmund Campbell is in. The way I see it, parents, just like ordinary human beings, should be perâ€" mitted to dream to their heart‘s conâ€" tent. Those dreams become dangerous, however, when parents attempt to act them out through others, namely their unfortunate offspring. Things tend to get messy, really messy and that shouldn‘t be allowed. Don‘t get me wrong. I‘m not advocatâ€" ing a "do your own thing‘" mentality. If anything, I‘m a traditionalist who stronâ€" gly believes that discipline is every bit as essential as parental love in child rearing. What l hate to see, though, is an imbalance that leaves a child a mere puppet to be manipulated in an aduit world. For example, is there a Canadian father alive who wouldn‘t like to see his son grow up with the success of a Wayne Gretzky, National Hockey League idoli? At the risk of stereotyping, it is likewise safe to assume a percentage of every novice dance and music class across the country is populated with unwilling participants, deposited by parents to be taught the rudiments of discipline, grace, peer cooperation. And that‘s great. There are concert pianists, world skating champions, theaâ€" tre dancers who thank their lucky stars every day, knowing that were it not for concerned parents offering firm guidâ€" ance, they in al likelihood would be scanning the jobâ€"wanted boards or sweeping the backshop today. Ah, but here‘s where the fine line comes in. Too often, a parent‘s interest in a child‘s welfare goes far past the point of wishing for the best. There are those, all around us in fact, who are helibent in the belief that their Cynthia Wainwright Smith III must develop into this country‘s next prima ballerina. Trouble, at that point, is not far behind. They came in several ways â€" in heartâ€"shaped envelopes, with tiny messages written on the corners, happy face drawings, and one was even accompanied by a dog‘s tooth! Maybe an ancient good luck charm, eh? â€" And so we offer our congratulations to the Haucks, and our thanks to the hundreds of readers who responded, making our Voluntary Paid first anniversary such a special time for us. Fortunately, I was not a victim of such After we announced the draw, offered as a gesture of thanks for our readers‘ support of our Voluntary Paid circulation program, we were inundated with hundreds of coupons. â€" _ Now, to end the suspense, the winners of the $100 grocery voucher â€" Sylvester and Leona Hauck of Lester St. in Waterloo, who 'l:ave chosen Zehr‘s as the place to spend their grocery voucher. > If our first anniversary bonus draw becomes an annual event, it looks like we‘ll have to hire extra help â€" just to sort out the mail. Happy anniversary! WATERLOO CHRONICLE, WEDNESDAY, FEDRUARY 20, 1985 â€" PAGE 7 Whose dream? Actually, 1 am living my parent‘s dream. Difference is, their dream asks only that I be happy with life, and with myself{. I am. Therefore, so are they. Seems like ages, in fact, that we‘ve discussed the Leaf goaltending probâ€" Same when I came to university at WLU, I had the marks and had been accepted at Toronto and Queen‘s, yet my parents realized why I made my deciâ€" sion to come here. I was craving to independently learn about life, inside and outside the framework of formal education. No regrets. And, in forsaking higher profile jobs in my chosen profession, they totally comprehend that I am happy as a smallâ€"city individual with a close circle of friends, one who prefers to cultivate pride in a community he can totally interact in. But it is more important to me, and my parents, to know that within myself, I am happy, that I can look proudly upon my accomplishments and will continue to invite future challenges. Content with where I am, and where I am heading, not trying to live out someone else‘s dream. From an early age, it was made evident to me by my parents that while this world owes us nothing, we should maximize the gifts we have been blessed with, be they in the classroom, on the rink, in the orchestra pit, in career pursuits. Not, however, at the expense of personal happiness. Certainly there were times when the Campbell kids gave appearances of underâ€"achieving, and duly concerned, our parents raised questions, offered help and guidance. But never can I recall them ever pushing me outside the realim of parental responsibility. They wereâ€"and remainâ€"loving and caring, supportive to the â€" nth degree, proud of our every achievement. Yet they always understood that we, more than they, would sort out and chart our paths. All they asked, when all was said and done, was that we could say in our hearts we‘d done what we felt was our best. In ‘their wisdom, while they would have loved to see me become the next Toronto Maple Leaf goalie, they realized that I was happy as a lark in house league hockey, keeping the love of the game, rather than the results, as the supreme measure of success. That 1 had the talent to play at a higher level was balanced by their knowledge that I, being of sensitive nature, was free from the pressure to perform under critical conditions. Some would look upon all three of those circumstances as cases of unâ€" derachievement, situations where, had I been pushed to aim higher on the telephone pole, I could have risen to greater heights. Perhaps. lems. irrationality, and I hope I never resort to it as a parent myself.