THE SUMMER of ’92 will stand out forever as a wa- tershed summer for me. Tt was the summer that I was initiated into hard-core family life. We went camping, you sce. I now refer to it as ‘‘ordeal by campfire.”’ - For the benefit of those of you who are child-free, or those who have never had a semi-wilderness experience with the very young, let me describe an introductory cam- > ping experience with children this way: it’s like being thrown in the '_. ‘water at the Polar Bear Swim ". when you've lived in the Bahamas “all your life. I should be honest and admit ~; that I went into the experience naively. Up until this summer, I had on- ly camped with adults — tall, rel- atively calm creatures who can assist in putting up a tent and .don’t find amusement (as one toddier 1 know does) in scattering tent pegs around the campsite be- 83 ’ fore you can get them in the ground. “I really believe i in taking . : camping. It teaches great . Yalues,”’ I told my friends with . utter conviction before setting off Campi Catherine _ Atyes JUST ADD WATER with my husband and three boys of 12 years, 10 years and 22 _ months. The first sign that camping for five was going to be the antithesis of camping in my single days (big preoccupation: remembering the wine for those lazy dinners around the campfire) was the preparation and packing. The problem i is that when you're camping with children, you become obsessed with being Restaurant smoking: please both sides and keep public freedoms Shonld smoking be banned Peopte’ do haye the right to smoke . but do not have the right to inflict second-hand smoke onto others . either. - However, if restaurants would like to serve both smoking and us nonsmoking people without one or the other, ‘separated sections should be . designed to prevent smoke from diffusing atall. - (it’s unfortunate that people “ Ihave to be categorized and sepa- : rated into groups because of their . dissimilarities. | mysclf am not a . smoker, and don’t enjoy breathing im smoke while cating. . Hlowever, some people do. So to tell a smoker to abolish smok- ~ing while cating is going against _. his or her free will. People’s. ‘privileges in pubiic pisces are becoming more limited — : every day. These imposing regula- ‘ tions should be capped. an It seems we sill’ have a’ long, ; long way to go aniil a perfect cosition of different ideas can fuse together to form a perfect bond. There are. many ways to please both sides. One way may be to in- stall-a superior ventilation system, or maybe even a glass wall or two, which would probably mean hir- ing smoking and nonsmoking waiters and waitresses, a mere scratch in the wallets of growing businesses. In the end it may cost more for the price of eating cut. But the hike in price is a small exchange - for public freedom. It sounds like a fair trade to me: technology for equality. What could be better? The government could dig deep and put in their two cents’ worth by establishing a funding system for small businesses that need the ‘extra support. Every bit counts. The smoking conflict isn’t just a small issue anymore. It seems to form an artificial life form right before our eyes. And trying to understand a new life form takes time and patience. - Michael North Vancouver ‘Country owes great debt ‘| Dear Editor: - ‘Gur recent anniveraries of - events of horror in wartime | cause us to’ reflect once again - on Very Ridge to Dieppe and Stalag VIB. -[-- AH the volunteers previous |. to July 1917 were defending a ’ country that Some of those heroes:are still : with us with no relief from the tax burden in their declining years. had no income. Despite all the sympathetic replies from Ottawa wher this subject is mentioned we still carry on every Nov. 1! admit- ting the great debt the country owes these veterans. Escape from Stalag YVIIIB was impossible. To evade the Dept. of Revenue when they say, “You are required to pay,” is very similar. Gordon Patterson, ex-RCAF West Vancouver e Stories prepared for every contingency. Why did we take enough pasta to feed every guest at an Italian wedding? Don’t ask me. All 1 know is that midway through packing (after a big argument about the culinary merits of corn- ed beef) a2 normally spacious mini-van seemed to have as much room as a Beetle. **No room for the foamies,”’ my husband announced. 1 should have suggested we ditch the pasta. We weren’t sure exactly how many days it would take us to get to Edmonton — that first day we were just bent on getting a camp- site before darkness came. Imagine trying to put up our new family tent in darkness with three exhausted kids. Too . frightening to contemplate. . So we got to a campsite in plen- ty of time and ate some of the pasta. Another day in the car trying to ensure the older boys didn’t OD on fruit leather and didn’t share them with the toddler (‘‘He gets’ rye crisps!”’), we got to our se- cond campsite, a magnificent spot in vhe Shuswap. My husband felt like death (I chalked it up to delayed post- packing trauma), but hc bravely continued as our fearless leader long enough to get the tent set up, then collapsed in the back of the mini-van. After the tent chatter from the kids died down (“If you had to kiss any girl at schoo! who would it be?” ‘*OK; for the sixth time, could you put a lid on it?”’), we settled down with a hot chocolate for a quiet, contemplative time by the dying campfire. Ten minutes later we were dous ing the fire and heading to the tent exhausted. The third day Dad felt so ill we opted to stay in a motel. Ten- year-old was positively exuberant - at regaining contact with real life (e.g. television and a‘swimming pool). After three days of civilized Alberta, featuring principally the mind-numbing mania of West Edmonton Mal! with its water park, family camping once more had definite appeal to me. I was seady for outdoor adventure again! I felt renewed and becalmed (far from giant waterslides) at our _ first campsite on the drive back to Beautiful British Columbia. The whole site, including the other campers, peace, especially the stunning waterfall just a short walk away. Unfortu- BUT, SIRE... ‘THE PUBLIC “THEMSELVES PARTICIPATED IN AND PAID FoR THOSE NATIONAL UNITY POLLS... Dear Editor: : Like most Canadians I have lots of views and opinions on ‘the things that happen in Canada and the world around me. As a teenager I think that it’s extremely important that I and other Canadians young and old voice them, for the security of our children’s future as well as our own. One thing that comes to mind is the possibility of Quebec separating from the rest of Canada. The more I think of this the sadder I feel. In elementary schcoi we had to color and label a map of Canada, and nothing would make me hap-" ” pier than to help my children do the same and sce Quebec still there five or so years from now. I love this country and | am so proud to call it home. Like our . national anthem says, “Tre pa- . trict love in all our sons com- mand.”’ Well that includes Quebec and all.other Canadians no matter what their color, race or religion is. Of all the problems we have to face nowadays it really makes ine wonder how some people seem to concern themselves instead with whether or not Elvis is really dead, when our futures are on the line. Friday, September 11, 1992 — North Shore News - 7 aately, so did the large boulder in the middle of our campsite which rose up out of the dark to collide with me. : After my husband finished bandaging my deeply cut knee, I lay awake in pain all night to imp out of the teat at sunrise. Ai this point, with a painful in- jury, ! could have ended the camp- ing experience and demanded our return to Vancouver the next day. Call me a masochist, but I was seduced by yet another beautiful lakeside campsite. The adults took turas hiding in the miai-van until. we had to face. ° the music and put up the tent. The older boys were drawn to the van as well, mostly so they whe could listen to tapes of the Goon Some folks are worse off, 1 : reminded myself as I watched wae some campers further down the site combing the grass for their” car keys.” It’s amazing how,.on the home stretch of a journcy, ideatism gushes o up again. Somewhere past exhaustion acd louie lies nights faded. | knew © . in my soul we would camp again.