Ward Four, er, Three

New experience number 10,302,983 this weekend: Moderating a candidates' meeting. I was invited to host both of two such meetings in my old stomping grounds of Dunedin, and Singhampton.

So there I was at a lectern, having comandeered an old-fashioned schoolteachers' bell, the four men vying for office having to shut up when I rang it. The very first words out of my mouth were to say, 'thanks for coming to this candidates meeting for ward four...' only to be corrected by my old 4-h leader, who was in the front row.

After that initial stumble, it became a terrific afternoon, and not because of anything the candidates had to say, or my job as ringleader. It was terrific because both community halls were filled with the members of the community, there to hear what their neighbour had to say and what those neighbours had to offer for the job. I thought it was tremendous to hear respectful, thoughtful and for the most part, good natured questioning.

The four candidates are vastly different, and yet each of them would do a bang-up job. I don't envy the voters of Ward 3.

I hear and read a lot of stories of corruption, graft and trouble in politics, and I've seen crooks and would-be crooks get into in office. But yesterday, my hope for democracy was renewed, and I was proud to help it along with my little bell.

Funny aside about Singhampton-I had quite a discussion with a certain airborne traffic reporter when I worked on the radio in Toronto. One snowy Friday afternoon, he said on air that 24 highway was closed from Shelburne to SING-um-tun. I corrected him, and he insisted it was pronounced that way, and he should know since he had "friends with a farm house up there for several years!" "Well," I replied to this very crusty fellow, "I grew up two miles away, and so did my father and his father, and none of us have heard anyone say anything but sing-HAM-ton. But, hey, you do what you like." He got it right in the next report.