Tom Young

I wish all of our listeners had a chance to read a letter in the Saint John Telegraph Journal on Wednesday, January 23rd.  The letter is titled, “A Big Thank-You To The Saint John Sea Dogs.”

It is the story of an autistic 11 year old girl named Kathryn.

Most of us don’t know much about autism including yours truly.  What I do know is that it is a spectrum disorder which means some autistic children grow up to become functioning adults, while others need security and twenty-four hour care for the rest of their life.

The story of Kathryn speaks to the importance of the members of the Saint John Sea Dogs in her life.

The writer, who identifies himself as Jamie Munroe, details what the individual members of this junior hockey team do to brighten the life of an eleven year old girl.  It names names —  and tells of little vignettes describing the little things the players do on and off the ice that brings a smile to a somewhat complicated life.  It tells the story of a young lady who has difficulty speaking and how she’s able to open up when a player says nothing more than, “Hi Kathryn.”

It tells about how the players are willing to sit and answer all her questions and how they do it with smiles on their faces.

My son was the first to bring the letter to my attention by saying he had to read it to me.  As he did, I could see the tears running down his cheeks and I know full well when he looked over the old man — he saw mine.

Next time you go to a junior hockey game and you don’t see much other than two teams trying to win a game, think how important that game is to an eleven year old named Kathryn.
 
If you get a chance to read the letter, I bet it will make you teary eyed, much like it did the Young’s.

My thanks to Jamie Munroe for a four minute reality check.

I’m Tom Young.

Let’s say for a minute I operated some kind of a private learning institution and was invlolved in a labour dispute with members of my staff. Let’s say they bathrooms at my private school were in deplorable shape. There’s a strong smell of urine, plugged toilets, no toilet paper and no soap with which to wash my hands.

Earlier this week we had a substantial snowfall which began in the early afternoon.

By the time I got to go home, shortly after 3:30 PM, well in excess of five centimetres had already fallen and driving conditions were less than ideal.  From work to home, (a distance of about ten kilometres) the first half is spent on a four lane divided highway.  So, by this time the right hand lane has two tracks and not quit bare pavement.  The left hand lane has no tracks, it’s well and truly snow packed and hardly fit to drive on at all.

The guy in front of me is doing about 60 KM per hour, and that’s okay with me because it means at this speed I might be four minutes later than normal getting home.  There are others on the road however who aren’t impressed with the 60 KM speed and don’t have the extra four or five minutes to insure they arrive home alive.

A fully loaded 18-wheeler can’t wait as he flies by, which doesn’t bother me all that much because he’s got 18 points of contact with whatever he’s driving on and all that weight and to keep him out of the ditch.

Along comes this clown in what best can be described as a small front wheel drive car who for some reason thinks 100 KM per hour on a snow packed road is an appropriate speed.  He’s followed by a guy in a blue pickup truck who is also of the opinion that he can keep it on the road no matter how fast he goes and there are three or four others in various sizes and shapes of cars who feel the same way.

What gives these “idiots” at the wheel in a driving snowstorm where there is limited visibility the right to feel that 100 KM per hour is an appropriate speed?  I checked with our newsroom early the next morning when I came back to work about whether or not there been any accidents on this four lane stretch of highway the previous afternoon. 

The answer was negative.

So, by the grace of God, these “idiots” and the others like them all made it home safely, and that certainly makes me feel good.  So the next time I’m on the same highway and driving under the same conditions, these same “idiots” will be there too.

I’ll bet you that everyone who reads this has the same story to tell.

I could care less if you’re not worried about your own safety, but please worry about mine.

…AND SLOW DOWN WHEN IT’S SNOWING!!!

I’m Tom Young.

Herein I issue a warning to those involved in both the broadcasting and newspaper fraternity… You can put a fork in free speech, because in Canada — It’s dead — It just hasn’t been buried yet.

Am I ever glad that I’m coming to the end of my radio career rather than just getting started with designs on becoming a talk show host.  Thing I’ve said in the past would now land me in front of a Human Rights Commission having to use my own money against the unlimited public purse which is available to what I’d like to call the “Thought Police.”

Now, think about this very carefully… If broadcasters or newspaper writers should say or write something that offends one of the 33-million people in this country, their career could come to a screeching halt.  If a listener or reader feels offended, he or she need only send a written complaint to some local Human Rights Commission and lay a complaint.

You can be summoned to a meeting with a Human Rights Officer, (at your expense I might add) to try and explain your thought process which led to you making the statement which ruffled the feathers of one of your listeners or readers.  This is absolutely ridiculous and is perhaps the biggest threat ever to the talk show portion of Canadian radio.

It could mean companies are now going to have to have lawyers on retainers just to deal with those “Thought Police.”

I have always laboured under the apparent misconception that one of the things we are guaranteed in a free and democratic society is the right to free speech.  I fully understand we have laws which cover liable and slander and we have similar laws to prevent us from spewing hate and when these things happen the person liable or slandered has every right to go into a court of law and prosecute an offender.  But to be called to a Human Rights Commission hearing by someone who is offended by something said or written is totally beyond my simple comprehension.

The only thing I know for sure — It’s going to get worse.

I’m Tom Young.

I need a favour from someone who’s reading this blog…

If you know the man or perhaps the woman who invented the automatic telephone answering machines which most offices now have, please supply me with his or her name address and phone number.

If it’s a man, please read the line above after where it reads “Tom Says…”

If it’s a woman, well, I’ll think of an alternative punishment…

I’m not one to say, “remember the good old days,” …But I want to remember the good old days when you could phone a government office, business, commercial outlet, doctor’s office, bank and even the occasional police department where somebody actually answered the phone and could tell you if the person you wanted to contact was in or not.  …And, If they were in fact “in” — they could connect you with the required person in ten seconds or less.  If not, hang up and go on with your business. 

Now the phone gets answered” “If you would like service in English press one, for French press two…” 

Then they want to give you their hours of business.  I don’t care about their hours of business!

Then they want to give you their store locations.  I’m not calling to find out where their stores are…

Then they want to give you a whole bunch of other options, I don’t want a list of “other options…”

I want to talk to a living breathing person with a heartbeat!

Then they say, “All our agents are presently busy, can you hold? Your call will taken by the first available agent when they become available.”  Then you’re subjected to the Champaign music of Lawrence Welk.  I didn’t like the Champaign music 30 years ago and I don’t like it any better the older I get!

Then some pre-recorded voice comes on the line to reassure me that my call is important to them.  Liars!  If it’s so important, then why won’t somebody talk to me on the phone!?

Finally, through some miracle and a timeframe that has raised my blood pressure twenty points, I’m connected to the office of the person I was seeking twenty minutes ago.  Only to find out, “I’m away from my desk, however if you leave me your name and number, I’ll be glad to return your call.”

So instead of getting all the information I require in the fifteen seconds it used to take, computers and advances in telephone technology have now finally made it a twenty minute odyssey.

Will someone please answer the phone?

I’m Tom Young.

I didn’t realize until this past weekend just how much mony prime minister stephen harper has put in my pocket as a result of that HUGE reduction of one cent in the GST.