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Second Class Mail Registration Number 5540 PAGE 6 â€" WATERLOO CHRONICLE, WEDNESDAY JANUARY 20, 1988 Last week brought the final segment of our series Council Profile, an enlightening feature designed to bring to Waterloo citizens insightful and intimate backgrounderâ€"style information on our mayor and counâ€" cillors. Far from a straightâ€"out grilling of councillors, quesâ€" tions asked were designed to allow each "interviewee" the opportunity to respond to a wide variety of subjects, some of our choosing, some of theirs. It was, in effect, a chance to write their own midâ€"term report cards, rather than us merely arbitrarily assigning a grade heading into election year. Headed up by staff writer/interviewer Ian Kirkby, many of the questions asked were as a result of a "firstâ€" impression impact‘‘ the mayor and councillors have had on him since assuming the council beat last fall. His probes were then blended with a mix of editorial themes and questions we ourselves have been asked on the streets of our council. Nittyâ€"gritty stuff such as personaliâ€" ty clashes, old guard/new guard voting, relationships on council, public perception of council, and so on. It goes without saying a feature that fills page five of a newspaper for nine weeks is bound to have an impact, and Council Profile disappointed no one in that regard. At first, the questions centered on the reason for doing such a feature, but as our reading public continued to follow the interviews, it became clear that accountability was the major theme. Some readers were critical of specific questions; on the other side of the fence we were cheered in an "it‘s about time someone asked" manner. We received mixed reactions from those interviewed. Most were delighted to be allowed the opportunity in a different setting to explain their role; some viewed it an excellent opportunity to be at once proud and humble; some were suspicious of our intentions, and still others seized the chance to be critical of the media and attempted to dispel popular beliefs. In the end, all had their say. Our reaction? We‘re glad we did it, especially when interviewing those like Brian Turnbull, delightfully frank in stating that perhaps, just perhaps, council should take a look at itself to discover why the public‘s perception of council has changed during this term, rather than pointing the sole tired finger at the media. Conversely, we were disappointed that so many had disbelieving glances when queried about the old guard/ new guard confrontation@l approach, some going as far as to suggest it is more a media conspiracy than fact. We want Council Profile to be remembered as a positive, because we cannot expect positive things to happen without being positive ourselves. If the feature brought insight to our readers, and helped shape their understanding of the municipal machinery, then we‘ve accomplisheg our goal. In final analysis, we hope the series was seen as tough but fairâ€"minded, and that through the questionâ€"andâ€"anâ€" swer process, the citizens of Waterloo have a deeper appreciation of the demands placed on municipal politiâ€" cians and of the behindâ€"theâ€"scenes nature of much of their work, and the efforts of city staff so universally praised by council. _ _*° _ Address all correspondence to Waterloo office, 45 Erb St. E., Waterloo, Ont. N2,) 1L7. Telephone 886â€"2830, News and Sports line, 886â€"3021. Waterloo Chronicle office is located in the Haney, White law office building (rear entrance, upper floor). Parking at the rear of the building. Open Monday to Friday 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. SuMipfion r‘;ws- $25 ywlj in Canada, $30 outside Canada Publisher: Paul Winkler Waterloo Chronicle is published every Wednesday by The Fairway Group Incorporated Publishing address: 215 Fairway Rd. S., Kitchener, Ont Managing Editor: Rick Campbell Sales Manager: Bill Karges Circulation Manager: Greg Cassidy Display Advertising: Helen Smiley, Paul Hummel, Gerry Mattice Classified Advertising: Maureen McNab Circulation: Jerry Fischer Typesetting and Composing: The Fairway Group Reporters: Mark Bryson (Senior reporter/sports) Ian Kirkby (news) Isobel Lawson (news) Profiles Ah, good. I have discovered yet another surefire way to ascertain just who your friends are in life. Build a workbench. Pull up a chair, this may take some explaining. Faithful readers of this column (that‘r another way of ascertaining) will know that when it comes to using my brain, I can rise to a level of mediocrity, but that when I am called upon to use my hands, I am virtually useless, out to lunch, the quintessenâ€" tial "noâ€"brainer." I have spoken ad nauseam of this distressing fact, how that, while I love the work I do and profession I‘m in, I will always regret the fact that in the tinkerâ€"shop of life, I‘ll always be on the outside looking in. In other words, I know that a key is needed to start a car, but don‘t know step two if the car doesn‘t start. I can admire antique furniture with the best of them, but ask me to replace a broken rung, and I freeze. I think you understand what I‘m trying to say. My hands are reactive, not proactive, and that rests heavily on my shoulders, to say nothing of uselessly at the end of my wrists. Nevertheless, I am moved on occasion to attempt to prove the entire world wrong, and am known to spin my way into the ground with harmlessâ€"like projects like building a ledge for my ping pong racquets, or hammering three pieces of 2 x 4 together to make a bike rack. Both projects failed miserably, I broke a racquet, and then my bike fell over, tipping the rack that was supposed to hold it in the air. No big deal, no one but you and me and the fence post that I couldn‘t build if my life depended on it will ever know of those botched But now that I have set the scene, imagine the amount of ridicule I faced in the past week when I not only announced, but proceeded to complete, my very own workbench. Go ahead, snicker, fact is a very fine workbench it is indeed, I‘m proud of it and plan over the next few decades to muck up all sorts of projects on it. Right now I spend half the time sitting admiring it, and the other half fuming about the way folks laughed at me when I told them about it. Actually, I can‘t take all the credit for building my workbench. Friendly Fred, a congenial, easyâ€"going type anyone would be proud to call neighbor, called me across the street over a year ago, and showed me some excess hardwood he had, wondering if I would like to use it as framework for a workbench. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity, and after mulling over in my mind for 11 months what I wanted it to look like and where I wanted to set up shop in my basement, I decided to voyage into stormy waters and build the sucker. The world found out last week. The phone rang at my office Tuesday. "Hey bud," said a familiar voice at the other end of the line, "got the January blahs already, it‘s about time we â€"It is written "I really dislike voting for roads at all. To me, it‘s either roads or day care."‘ Coun. Mary Jane Mewhinney on a westâ€"side link which will form part of the new Ira Needles Rick Campbell Chronicle Editor Wood 1? Boulevard â€" SEE PAGE 1 stirred up some action on the social scene around here." "Uh, well, I‘d like to, but, if you can believe it, I‘m spending all my spare time these days building a workbench." ¢ A pause of no less than 15 seconds later...""You‘re building a what? A workbench. What are you going to do a crazy thing like that for? You‘ll never use it. Does it mean the ranks of the Yellow Pages Repair Shop are drawing thinner? Do you have a fever? Salad for lunch? A workbench?" ‘"Yeh, strange as it may seem, that‘s what I‘m doing. Going to use it too." o s True to my word, the next night 1 went out to the library in search of a selfâ€"help (no one else can) text on woodworking. I was leafing through an encyâ€" clopedicâ€"sized epic when Beth comes along and pulls a 20â€"page hardcover edition from a lower shelf. "Isn‘t this what you want Rick, it‘s called How To Build Your Own Workbench" â€" and looked like it was designed for someone in grade 5. ‘"Uh, yeh, I guess that‘s the ticket." After failing to convince Beth to take it to the front to sign out, I went myself. The smirk on the librarian‘s face will be forever etched in my mind. It took me about three hours to draw a diagram of the wood I needed Friday night, and another two ordering it at the wood store (isn‘t that what it is called?) Saturday. Did I want half inch or quarterâ€" inch pegboard? Should I take the spruce in the store, or do I have to go out back? Do I want any special cuts? What about drawers and shelving? Finally, I was set. No, I had to get it all home in my suddenly so tiny Cavalier. If you were in the neighborhood of Lincoln Village Saturday around 11:15 a.m., do you remember howling your guts out at the poor sap with the pegboard sliding off his roof, hanging on to it and the 2 x 6 x 88 while trying to steer his way home? If you do, shame on you. Beth decided she couldn‘t face an afternoon watching me build, so off she went shopping instead. "Rick, please remember, if you ever picfi up powersaw, or the drill, or the handsaw, or the hammer, or even a pencil and ruler, please be careful and don‘t find any new way to wound yourself. Have fun!" Spent the weekend bragging about it to parents, relatives, friends, the guy in the milk store, the lady at the car wash, the paper girl, the neighbor‘s dog. And they all had the same reaction as a coâ€"worker I told Monday morning. And he turned quiclâ€"(IyT and left the office, but not before I saw the smirk on his face. Why, oh why do they always smirk? "A workbench? You? Nice. Now what? Do you get to build and fix little things on it? With your hands? With your hands? Hey, good_fpr‘yp_u." And fun I had. Took only four hours, and looks just