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EDITORIALConnected to your communityLETTER TO THE EDITORReader says earlier pesticide letter lacks “substantiated evidence”DEAR EDITOR:Stew Hamill’s letter to the editor (May 30) concerning Jeff Maguire’searlier opinion piece on the pesticide ban lacks any substantiatedevidence and certainly contains no rational discussion or scientific authority.Hamill admits that everything he says to justify the ban is just opinionand speculative. Further, he suggests that toxic chemicals are a “leadingcandidate” in the death of birds and people, but surely the toxicity is theissue in a discussion of the ban. Asserting as fact that the chemical istoxic, in a debate as to whether the chemical is toxic, leaves little roomfor discussion.In fact, the academic research I’ve reviewed concerning 2-4,D overwhelmingdeclares it not a danger to humans or animals. Of course, inthe mind of Hamill and those like him – liberal progressives” I thinkthey’re called – it’s not open to discussion. “It’s for your own good, youEMC Lifestyle – “Woman, we havebeen eatin’ those on this here farm for ahundred years,” Father said to Mother.I could see Mother wasn’t impressed.“They’re weeds, Albert,” she said.“Plain and simple weeds. I never heardof anyone eating weeds!”We were at the breakfast table. Andwe five children were looking at Motherand Father as if we were watchingsomeone in a tennis match. I didn’tthink Father was going to win this one!The subject under discussion wasdandelions. They covered what wecalled a lawn, but was really just ourfront yard, since we didn’t own a lawnmower, but when the grass got toohigh, one of the brothers tackled it witha scythe. It was hard to tell what wasgrass and what was dandelions.On the way to school that morning,I asked my much older and wiser sisterAudrey if she ever heard of anyone eatingdandelions. She said she had. Onceat her friend Iva’s house. She couldn’tremember what they tasted like.Now, it wasn’t unusual for Father towhip up a German meal. In fact, weall enjoyed what he cooked...all exceptfried blood pudding which I evenknow; chemicals bad, me good, so take it or leave it.” The tyrant indoctrinatesthe masses, through lies and half-truths, to achieve his owninterests, which of course are not saving birds or people, but control andpower. The masses, minions now mini-tyrants, follow willingly, believingthe tyrant’s interests are their interests. Nowhere is this more clearthan in modern environmental activism.“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims maybe the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons thanunder omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty maysometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but thosewho torment us for our own good will torment us without end, for theydo so with the approval of their consciences.” (C.S. Lewis)had trouble looking at when it came tothe table. When he fried sauerkraut, itnever tasted at all like the batch Motherwould make. Father would rinse it manytimes, put it in a fry pan with butter andchopped onions, and it wasn’t ready toeat until it had turned a golden brown.His German potato pancakes wereusually made on a Sunday night. The potatoeswere shredded, rinsed, squeezeddry, and then mixed with eggs and ofcourse, chopped onions. We kept himbusy at the Findlay Oval turning out hispancakes barely giving him time to eatthem himself, we loved them so much.Of course, they were well lathered withbutter and maple syrup too.And now it was dandelions. Well, Iwas with Mother on this one! I had nodesire to eat weeds that were pulled outof the front yard where goodness knowswhat animal had trampled all over them.No siree.That Saturday morning Father orderedthe boys to meet him in the yardwith their jack-knives. He was carryinga milk pail and got down on hisknees right in the middle of the yard,and showed the brothers how to dig upa dandelion, right down to, and includingthe root. It didn’t take long to fillthe milk pail.He hauled the pail over to the cementstep at the pump and filled it with water.He sloshed the dandelions aroundwith his arm in the pail up to his elbow,dumped the water out, and repeated theperformance. Mother was standing atthe kitchen door with her arms foldedacross her chest, as if defying Father tobring the weeds into the house.Well, that’s exactly what he intendedon doing. He laid out a spanking cleantea towel on the bake table, and shookwhat water he could off the dandelionsand laid them out flat, cutting off thelong roots. Then he folded the towelover the pile of weeds and patted it withhis flattened hand.What amazed me was that all theEMC News – Donna Mac-Donald from Carleton Place,left, Christopher Dresselt ofFranktown, Chey and DougLeitch of Carleton Place, TimHenderson from Almonteand Dany Cayen of CarletonPlace are all smiles at theRideau Carleton Raceway afterfinishing the Ride for DadJune 1. The annual ride wentthroughout Ottawa to raisemoney for prostate cancer.Terry BennettCarleton PlaceCOMMENTARYRally for RelayEMC Editorial – Something inspiring is happeningthis Friday, June 7 and Saturday, June 8 and you’re allinvited.The Smiths Falls District Collegiate Institute trackand Gemmill Park in Almonte will be illuminated withcandles and messages of hope and remembrance duringthe Canadian Cancer Society’s annual Relay for Lifecelebrations.The signature event for the society, the Relay is a12-hour inspirational event where participants, cancersurvivors and sufferers come together to walk and runthroughout the evening. They will listen to music, sharestories and make new friends as they raise funds forcancer research.And all of the funds raised through the MississippiMills and Smiths Falls Relay for Life fundraisers staysin Lanark County and will be used for cancer supportservices as well as transportation and peer support programsadministered by the Lanark, Leeds and Grenvilleunit of the Canadian Cancer Society.This year in Smiths Falls, marks the rebirth of thefundraiser as it will be held for the first time at SFDCI,having previously called the Lombardy Fairgroundshome for the past 14 years.Anyone who hasn’t experienced the Relay, either as aparticipant or onlooker, certainly should. To witness thetriumphant smiles on faces during the Survivor Walk,or read the handwritten notes to loved ones who havepassed on during the nighttime luminary ceremony, itputs into perspective why this is so important; to makecancer history.For more information about the Relay for Life, makea donation or purchase a luminary in memory of a lovedone, visit www.relayforlife.ca.Once given a chance, dandelions had a place at the tableMary Cook’sMemoriesMARY COOKPhoto byBRIER DODGEtime this was going on, there wasn’t aword spoken between Mother and Father.It was as if they hadn’t laid eyes oneach other in their entire lives.Father took down a big pot from theshelf over the stove and piled in thedandelions. He poured in a scant dipperof water, sprinkled in a handful ofsalt, and slid the pot to the front of theFindlay Oval. Then he went over to hisrocking chair, lit his pipe, crossed hislegs, and waited.The table had already been set fordinner...we always had dinner at noonhour...supper was what we had at night,and Mother had roast pork and potatoesin the oven. It looked very much likewe had a choice...either eat the dandelionsas a vegetable, or settle for slicedtomatoes and cucumbers.Father was certainly in charge of thebig pot, already boiling gently on thestove. Mother was having nothing todo with it. He tested the innards witha fork, and when they were done to hisliking, he poured the dandelions intothe sieve, pressed them down with thewood spoon, and plopped them into abig bowl.He took the wood spoon, dug it intothe butter dish, almost emptying it, andswirled it into the dandelions. He setthe bowl in the middle of the table, andwe all looked at it, no one daring to bethe first one to dig in.Emerson, the most daring of thelot of us, took his fork, and tested oneboiled leaf. I never took my eyes offhim. He rolled it around in his mouth,and reached out for the bowl, ladling aheaping pile on his plate. “Just as goodas your potato pancakes,” he said.Well, it didn’t take long for the restof us to take a small bite, which led tous piling the dandelions on our platesand even Mother, dared to taste a forkfull.It didn’t take long for Mother to admitthat the dandelions had a place onour dinner table. She did demand tooversee the washing of every last leaf,however.From that Saturday, like Father’s potatopancakes and fried sauerkraut, hisboiled dandelions often found their wayto our plates.She did however, draw the line oneating the fried roots. Father said shedidn’t know what she was missing. “I’lltake that chance,” Mother replied.65 Lorne St., P.O. Box 158,Smiths Falls, Ont. 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