02 July 27, 2002 - ObserverXtra

10 10 WOOLWICH OBSERVER • OPINION&LETTERS • JULY 27, 2002
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Spend a day at the beach
By mid-July there is
often a lull where
farming operations
are concerned, just after
the first hay crop has been
stacked in the mow or in
long rows of white ‘tubes’
along the edge of the field.
This time period is rather
brief but if we plan
carefully we may be able to
do something for fun rather
than out of necessity.
The levels of both the
farm pond and the goldfish
pond have somehow
decreased. I can easily fill
the goldfish pond with the
garden hose, but to do this
in the farm pond would be
about as useless as the fifth
teat on a cow’s udder. So
during the lull I decided to
go to a real beach with real
sand and waves, and no
bullfrogs to bellow their
bass voices as soon as they
realized my intrusion.
Armed with sunscreen, a
large umbrella,
sunglasses, towel, a cooler
full of iced tea, a ‘beach’
chair and a good book, I
packed these items in the
back of my pickup and
early in the morning,
headed for Sauble Beach.
When I arrived, I was the
only human amongst
thousands of squawking
seagulls who were flying
overhead or running in the
waves, digging for food
scraps. I selected my spot
on the beach and waited
for the sun to make its way
up into the sky.
You may have noticed
that a farmer on the beach
LETTER
CONTINUED....
(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 8)
memberships they can sell
to back their choice for
Prime Minister, they
seemingly have no
concern civil servants are
justifying breaking every
rule in the book, they
accept without question
MYSIDE
OF THEDAM
BY ALLEN D. MARTIN
sticks out like a beached
whale, although the
colours differ. From
working long hours in the
sun, farmers tend to have
an excellent tan on the
back of the neck between
the baseball cap line to the
spot were the T-shirt
begins. The other day
when I went to town for a
part for the baler, I met
some tourists, each one
with a camera around the
necks. As they snapped
pictures of me I heard one
youngster ask,” Momma is
that a ‘red-neck?”
Perhaps it was a good
thing that he didn’t notice
my hands. When handling
bales, I wear a pair of
durable gloves with the
fingers cut off so the twine
won’t cut my palms. This
results in tanned fingers
on white hands. And since
I don’t wear socks in the
summertime, my tan goes
from ankle to knee.
Looking me over I decided
I might as well have
printed “FARMER” on my
forehead with a marker.
As people began to arrive
in droves, I noticed many
very good tans on the
beach in contrast to my
thighs and upper body
which were stark white in
comparison to my knees
and forearms which were
a dark bronze.
In order to disguise
myself a bit I decided to
wear my baseball cap as I
headed for the water. No
one seemed to notice me as
I headed for the water. Just
as I reached it, a sudden
wave struck me full in the
face, whipping off my
baseball cap, washing it
out of sight.
About an hour later, I felt
cooled enough to return to
my beach chair and sip
some cold iced tea. The
water had rinsed away
most of my problems along
with the dirt from under
my fingernails. As I
reached for my book, a
slim lady with a perfectly
tanned body came towards
me. “Think I found your
hat, sir,” she said,
producing a soiled mass of
straw. I noticed it was not
mine as it didn’t have the
International crest on it.
Instead the words,
“Farmers Do it in the Hay,”
leaped out at me. I had
been found out.
From my side of the
dam, I decided to spend my
Sunday afternoons
tanning the parts of my
body that aren’t normally
tanned on the farm, to save
me some embarrassment
the next time I go to
Sauble.
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the end justifies the means
and pay no attention to
editorials stating that
until they “can prove that
sponsorship money is well
spent, the government’s
internal housecleaning
will look suspiciously like
a case of the fox guarding
the henhouse.”
As Liberals their
concentration on who will
emerge as their leader is
justified. As Members of
Parliament charged with
representing the interests
of all Canadians, it is not.
Joe Hueglin
Niagara Falls
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
ARE ALWAYS WELCOME.
editor@woolwichobserver.com