A Revision.

I mis-stated. My "children" are not unhappy with my decision to take legal action against Ms Morris and company. It's only one. Number three son, Martin.

Martin lives in Barrie and commutes every day to Toronto.

One morning in the winter, his life flashed before his eyes on Hwy 400. His son Cameron was with him.

A garbage truck travelling north skidded. It mounted the dividing rail. continued north and missed their oncoming vehicle with inches to spare.

That's a life-changing experience.

At Thanksgiving, Martin spoke to me seriously about my decision to take legal action.

"You know Mother as well as I do. These things can take years. They will have lawyers too. They won't sit back . They'll come after you. Why do you need that?"

I have no problem putting personal feelings into words. Children can never hear too often they are loved. They cannot be loved too much.

It's not the same thing as giving them everything to which they think they are entitled.

Verbally expressing my deepest feelings about the rights of all people to fairness and equity and not to be exploited, above all by the people to whom they have given their trust, is easier written than spoken.

I have only seen the same vitriol in our public affairs one other time. The York Regional Police Association with full assistance from the Era Banner did it about ten years ago to Brian Cousineau, Chief of the York Regional Police.

I was powerless then to make a difference. No-one else did. I wept.

I have watched the same level of relentless cruelty within our town's administration. There is no one else now either.

I am not employed. No letters can be sent to an employer with the intention of damaging my
livelihood.

I have no children in school who can be taunted and tormented.

No business to be undermined.

If my integrity and character is not established in this small place, where I have lived on the same street, for almost half a century, it is never going to be.

So many people harmed...so much grief....how can that be allowed to pass?

"But why you, mother " my son asks.

I can only answer...why not?