The Huron Expositor, 1975-08-28, Page 19DE BRABANDERE KLAVER
Marriage vows were exchanged
before Re N . H.J.Laragh at St.
James' RomanC atholic Church,
Seaforth, on Saturday, July 5th,
4975 at 4:30 p.m. between
Marianne Elizabeth Klaver and
Robert Arthur De Brabandere.
The' bride is the daughter of
Mr. and Mrs. John Klaver,
Kippen, and the groom is the son
of Mr. and Mrs. John De
Brabandere, of St. Marys.
Given in marriage by her father
the bride chose a floor-length
goWn which she designed herself.
lot had a long train, bishop sleeves
and lace neck front with stand-up
collar. Her mantilla veil was of
matching lace.
The bride's bouquet was of red
sweetheart roses, English ivy and
baby's breath.
Miss Janet Klayer, sister of the
bride was maid of honor and she
wore a floor-length pale blue
gown with short sleeves and lace
tlim matching the bridal gown.
Bridesmaids were Elsie Klaver,
sister of the bride, Pat
DeBrabandere, sister of the
groom and Marian Droog. They
wore identical blue and pink
floor-length, gowns. Pale blue
picture hats sashed with
tnatching fabric complimented
their gowns. They carried
bouquets of pink sweetheart
roses, baby's breath and pink
ribbons.
Luke DeBrabandere, brother of
the gorom, was best man and the
ushers were Nick Klaver, brother
of the bride, Paul De Brabandere,
brother of the gorom and Wayne
Knight.
The soloist,. Sharon Staples, of
Dublin, was accompanied by
Patricia Murray as she sang the
Wedding Song and The Lord's
Prayer.
A reception was held in the
Kirkton Community Centre where
the bride's mother greeted the
guests in a floor-length gown of
peach crepe with matching floral
bodice and a corsage of bronze
daisies.
The groom's mother assisted
wearing a long blue gown and
corsage of yellow daisies.
For a wedding trip to the East
Coast and P.E.I., the bride wore
a two-piece ensemble of white
and yellow with matching
corsage.
The couple are residing at
R.R.#1, St. Marys.
Wedding guests came from
Holland, Belgium, Wallaceburg,
Stratford, Toronto, London, St.
Marys and Seaforth area.
tY
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ROBERT DINSMORE
Seaforth 527-1224
Day! care
,14pervisornhirp.4 .:
The Tuckersmith-Vanastra Day
Care have hired their Pay Care
Supervisor, Miss Karen McEwing
will begin employment at
Vanastra September 2.
Originating from 'the Blyth-
Londesborp area. Miss McEwing
attended' Secondary School at
Seaforth. After two years at
Lambton College. die twenty-two
year-old Miss McEwing received
her Early Childhood Eduction
Diploma. She comes to Vanastra
from a former position at the
Ingersoll Day Care Centre.
The Day Care at the
Tuckersmith Vanastra Day Care
Centre is scheddled to begin
September 29.
If any Vanastra residents are
up with the sun, they may have
seen a gentleman who single-
handedly fights litterbugs at
Vanastra. The man is Doug Luke
from Heather Gardens. He has
been at Vanastra since Fcb,uary.
Now that we have nice weather he
is an often seen figure about the
community, usually with his
clean-up work in hand. The
community appreciates what
Doug is doing.
It Only
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INSURA
.4atabif4tect 1876
EADiNTICZ4 Seaforth; pn'tark!.
• Mrs. Margaret Sharp. SeveTragP17c.)Po 527,94(30,
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Fire, Extended coverage, Witidotorin, Theft
Property Damage, Liability, Etc.
Directors and Adjusters
Robt.Arehlbald.R.R.4, Seaforth 527.1817
Ken Carnochan, R.R.4, Seaforth 527.1545
La. ern Godkin, R.R.#1,Walton 5274877
Ross Leonhardt, R.R.1, Bornholm 345.434
John McEwing, R.R.1, Blyth 523.9390
Stanley Mellwain,R.R.2, Goderich • 524.7051
Donald MeKereher, R.R.1, Dublin 527.1837
Wm. Pepper, Brucefield 4824534
J.N.Tre..artha,Box 661, Clinton 482.7593
'1gents:
James Keys, R.R. I, Seaforth, Wm. Leiper, Londesboro
Steve J. Murray,R.R.5. Seaforth, K.J.Etue, Seaforth
I
You'll major in thrift with'
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Prices shown eff, from Aug.
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THE HURON ,lop
Sugar end Spite
by Bill Smiley
A friend brought to _my notice a news
story the other day. He wanted' my opinion
of its contents.
The story was headed; Former War
Prisoners Hold Prairie Reunion. It stated
that more than 500 former prisoners of war
from Britain, the United States and Canada
gathered at Moose Jaw recently for a 30th
reunion.
The rest of the story was a little
nauseating. The reunion was held in "an
atmosphere not unlike the prison camps
they survived in wartime. "There was
barbed wire, a bazooka, two
machine-guns, a German flag, people
dressed up in German uniforms, and
caricatures of war-time German officers.
I gave my reaction to my friend: "A
bunch of middle-aged boys clinging to the
only real thing that ever happened to
them."
That sounds harsh, at first glance, if Ws
possible to glance at something and hear it.
But it satisfied my friend.
"It's incredible," he said. "I too would
like to see some of my old friends from
, prison camp, but to talk, not to play
games."
" I agreed. I would like to see some'of my
old friends from prison camp. For about
half an hour. Not for a three-day reunion,
with wives tagging along.
And perhaps this is Why I don't attend
the annual reunion of former prisoners-of-
war, though I am invited every year.
And I guess I'm not the only one. There
were 500 at this reunion, from three
countries. Where are all the others? There
were 10,000 airmen in the camp I was in,
only one of many.
A couple of other items emerged from
the news story.Guess where the chaps
were entertained? In the officers' mess at
Moose Jaw.
Secondly, it was the first reunion of
POWs in 30 years 'to be held outside
Toronto.
What does this suggest? To me, a little
clique of Toronto-based ex-officers who
have kept the thing going, for who knows
what adolescent satisfaction.
Whatever you may have heard or read
elsewhere, prisoners of war who were
officers didn't suffer all that much. I
know. I was there.
We were not required to work in
factories or mines or on farms as were
"other ranks". I know of no Canadian
officer who starved to death, though grub
was mighty slim in the last few months,
Perhaps one in 1,000 was beaten up for
some misdemeanor. I was one of them,
and it was my own fault.
It was no' bed 'of roses, and I don't
minimize the skill and daring of those who
tried to escape, but, looking back, it was all
juvenile and Boy Scoutish: lookouts, secret
passwords, disguises, caving-in tunnels,
interminable planning, and end results
about as dramatic as one degree Celsius.
There was suffering, of course, but it
was not beatings and torture and
starvation, not for Canadians. It was not
physical, but psychological.
As far as military discipline went, most
of the bodies had far more freedom than
they had had on their units.But there was
the simple fact that you were in jail, and
somebody would shoot you if you tried to
get out (quite the opposite to modern
Canadian jails).
And there was the great feeling of waste.
of knowing ,that the best year of your life
were going down the drain, while other
young men were kissing girls and drinking
beer and staying up all night and doing all
the other foolish things young men do.
There was boredom and monotony and
stagnation and frustration and a little
lurking fear that the latrine rumors might
be true — that Hitler had ordered the SS to
eliminate all P.O.W.s when Germany faced
ultimate defeat.
But there were compensations. There
was a tremendous sense of oneness against
the enemy. There was the fascinating
meeting of different ideas and cultures, a
great and almost immediate education in
itself,
Throw into one room the following: a
young actor from the London stage, a kid
from a prairie farm. a Glasgow toughie, a
Dublin hooligan, anAustralian sheep
farmer, a Welsh poet, a Rhodesian
schoolboy, a Norwegian railworker. That' s
a bare sample.
Toss in an American from California and
a West Indian singing calypsos and a
Belgian bookmaker and a Polish count and
a few other assorted odds and sods, and
you had a typical group — at least in my
camp.
1 wonder where they all are? Most of
them, certainly, are a long way from Moose
Jaw and a small group from Toronto whose
members can afford to fly to a convention
and try to recapture something that is gone
forever.
For the same reason, I have stopped
going to reunions of old fighter pilots. I
went to a couple. Enjoyed them. But'there
is a tendency to maudlinism, exaggeration
and doWnright lying about long-gone days.
These pot-bellied, bald, wife-ridden, right-
leaning, class-conscious, middle-aged
poops are my old comrades? No way.
Mr memories of prison camp and
fighter-piloting are far more fun than
meeting some red-faced paunch who roars
over the noise from the bar: "Hey, yeah!
Aren't you Jack? Jack Wiley? Yeah! We
were at Sagan togehter. (I was at Barth).
Wancha tameet the wife."
All "the wife" wants is, not to meet me,
but to be sure that George is on is feet for
the final evening's ball, at which she will
peer, with her sad, crumpled 50-yea.- old
fabe, at all the other sad, crumped 50-year
understood. He was a German officer with
kids are up to while she's hoofing it up in
Moose Jaw.
I told a little of this to my friend. he
understood. He was a German officer with
Rommel, badly wounded in North AFrica,
spent three years in a U.S.Prison Camp,
and is now a Canadian citizen.
Where are the snows of yesteryear?
"What are you afraid of? The sign means you!"
4
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