HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1979-01-31, Page 2WILMS LS
ONTARIO
Serving Brussels and the surrounding community.
Published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
By McLean Bros. Publishers Limited
Evelyn Kennedy - Editor Pat Langlois - Advertising
Member Canadian Community Newspaper Association and
Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association
Subscriptions (in advance) Canada $9.00 a Year.
Others $17.00 a Year. Single Copies 20 cents each.
em
Sugar and spice
By Bill Smiley
It looks like residents around the Brussels area are one group who
know how to make the best of winter.
It sometimes seems like there's going to be something going on
every weekend until winter ends.
Just for starters, there's the Walton Snowmobile Poker Rally, the
Brussels Snowmobile Poker Rallies, the annual Polar Daize and the
Atoms Hockey Tournament.
' But it takes the spirit of competition and participation to keep these
events alive and area residents must have that spirit or the events
wouldn't still be going on.
If you're not the competitive type, however, you can still show your
appreciation to the organizations who put these events on by being out
there to cheer on the competitiors.
Support is a big factor in what keeps these events alive. If there's no
audience to watch, there's not much point in having the event.
If these organizations can go to the trouble and expenses of holding
these events, then don't they deserve your support to keep them
going?
Behind the scenes
by Keith Roulston
Simple solutions
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 31, 1979.
Winter has improved.
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ni.............../11111.1.11.111111111111\amum.1111TAIN OROS
11172
4Brussels Post Keep things going
Just struggled home through about the
tenth blizzard of this month. You could see
your hand before your face, if you had a
large hand and good eyesight.
Found my street more by feel than sight,
turned off with a skid, went through the
routine of getting into the garage. It's rather
like launching a small boat in a large surf. It
tales a lot of skill and a fair bit of nerve.
A t the entrance to the driveway are the
boulders. These are huge gobbets of snow
thrown up by the snowplow, which then
freezes them bigger than a large man's
head.
Then there is a flat space, shovelled,
about the length of a car. Then, just at -the
entrance to the garage itself, there is a sort
of reef of ice, built up to a foot or so of frozen
snow.
You have to hit the driveway, and there is
a large maple a foot to one side, at about 24
miles an hour. There is a great rending noise
from beneath, just like rocks tearing the
bottom out of a boat. But you don't even
slow down. With a judicious touch of brakes
here and accelerator there, you sashay past
the maple, line her up for the middle of the
garage, and goose her just a little on the flat
patch. There is six inches clearance on each
side. All being well, you then ride up over
the reef of ice, with another rending noise,
this time part of your roof peeling away,
slam the brakes at the last minute so that
you don't go through the end of the
garage, switch off, and sit there wiping your
brow.
My wife is a big chicken. She won't even
try to put the thing in the driveway, let alone
the garage. Maybe that's because she has
hit the side of the garage door about six
times, both in and coming out.
I enjoy it. I feel like a skipper whose ship is
sinking, and who has launched a boat, taken
her through the surf, over the rocks, through
the reef, and beached her on golden sand.
But inevitably, on such occasions, my
thoughts turn to the poor devils, our pioneer
ancestors, who had to cope with the same
weather and snow conditions, with a pittance
of what we have to work with.
When I've shut off my engine, feeling a
bit like Captain Bligh on one of his good
days, all I have to do is walk 40 yards to the
house. Inside there is warmth from an oil
furnace, light, an electric stove to cook
dinner, a colored television to take me to
lotus-land.
I can huddle in the cowardly safety of my
modern home and defy the elements. Let 'er
snow, let 'er blow.
No chores to do. No trips to the barn to
feed, water, milk the beasts, by the light of a
lantern, in sub-zero temperature. No wood
to lug in from the woodpile, or ashes to carry
out. All I have to do is sit down with a drink,
unfold my daily paper, and wait for dinner.
And it's no dinner of salt pork or canned
beef, with a hearty helping of smashed
potatoes and some turnips or carrots my wife
had to dig up from the root cellar, topped off
by some preserved raspberries from last
summer's crop.
No, the refrigerator is one of our modern
gods, and one of the most popular. I think it
takes precedence even over the car as a
twentieth-century deity.
We kneel before it, contemplating its
innards. We place offerings of food inside it,
much as the ancients proffered food to their
gods.
And just like the ancients, we are smart
enough to take food back and eat it, after the
god has been placated.
Not for us the pioneers' meagre fare. We
have fresh (frozen) meat to hand. We have
fresh vegetables, nothing from the root
cellar. We have cheese and fruit and eggs
and orange juice and a myriad other exotics
that would make our ancestors blink in awe
and fear.
On the shelves in the kitchen we have
another host of luxuries: canned fruit and
vegetables and soup, coffee and tea and
sugar and smoked oysters and sardines and
salmon and tuna. In the bread-box, cookies
and cakes and bread that cost money but no
labour.
After a meal that would appear to a
pioneer as food for the gods (even though
half the stuff in it is going to give us cancer,
according to the quacks), we don't have to sit
huddled by the stove trying to read a
week-old newspaper by the light of a
kerosene lamp.
We can sit in comfort and read a book
from among thousands in a library five
minutes away. Or we can listen to music or
drama from hundreds of miles away. Or we
can watch the same, or the news of the day,
from thousands of miles away. By merely
twisting a dial.
How did they stand it, those sturdy
forebears of ours? Wouldn't you think that
they'd have gone starkers under the burden
of never-ending 'toil, never ending cold and
snow, neverending monotony and loneliness
in winter?
Not a bit of it. They thrived and
multiplied. (Maybe the latter was the
answer. There's nothing like a bit of
multiplying to pass the time.)
Many of them didn't survive, of course.
Children died in infancy. Women were old at
30. But it Was a lifelong test course in
survival, and the tough ones made it.
What a lot of complaining, compladent
slobs we are today!
But I'm sure glad I don't have to go out to
the barn, put hay down for the horses, milk
the cows, and drag in a qtiarter-cord of wood
to keep the stoves going tonight.
One of the traits of the 1970's has been
that people keep coming up with simple
solutions to difficult problems: solutions
that seldom work but sound nice.
I fear that Canada is falling under the-
influence of one of these widely-accepted
simple solutions at present.
The Task Force on Canadian Unity made
its report last week and the report was
generally well received by various groups.
There were many suggestions made in the
report but the one that comes through most
strongly, and the one that seems to win
widest support, is the proposal to hand
over more power to the provinces. It's not a
new suggestion, of course. It'S been the
panacea proposed by provincial premiers
and opposition leaders for several years
now. With so many people supporting the
idea, I should be all for, it, but somehow I
think the whole solution is too simplistic,
naive, and is perhaps playing with fire.
Before we start shifting responsibility for
too many things we should perhaps take a
look at the record to see just how well we
have been served by our provincial
governments. Last Week at a conference of
ministers of education, the Quebec
minister claimed the federal government is
always starting projects, then backing out
and leaving the provinces to pick up the
tab. He got general agreement from his
colleagues from other provinces. Yet who
has been worse than provincial govern-
ments at starting things then dumping the
bills on the local taxpayers.
In Ontario, for instance, the provincial
government used the carrot and the stick to
get us into a system of county school
boards. The carrot was increased grants,
the stick, legislation. So now that we have
an expensive county schoolboard system
the province had decided it no longer wants
the burden of its high education bills and is
throwing responsibility to the local boards
and municipalities.
The same sad tale has been told where
people have been unlucky enought to take
the government's bait and begin regional
governments only to have the provincial
government back out leaving the
municipalities with a huge bureacratic
structure. And how about the hospital
situation? And these stories are not just
Ontario Stories. They have been repeated
across the country in every province:
Provincial governments are being
favoured over the federal government
because they are supposed to be closer to
the people than the federal government.
The people in British Columbia, Alberta
and Saskatchewan feel very remote and ill
served by the federal government but are
they served any more poorly by Ottawa
than Northern Ontario it by Toronto? Are
we in Huron County any more remote from
the federal government than from Queen's
Park, even though the latter is 600 miles
closer? We hear about the arrogance of the
federal government but as far as its effect
on our everyday life was concerned, that
was nothing compared to the arrogance
shown by the provincial government before
it recently had to face a minority govern-
ment situation.
I wonder if the idea of handing more
power to the provinces is based so much on
sober thought as it is on politics. The
present occupant of the prime minister's
residence is not popular with the general
public so lets show him, let's take his
power away.
Then we have the simple arithmetic of
the situation: there is one federal govern-
ment to defend centralized power; there
are 10 provincial premiers to attack it. The
premiers are human beings and politicans
and their natural goal is to seek more
power. In addition, they are in a very good
position policitically. When things go
wrong they can blame the federal govern-
ment in one direction, or pass on the
responsibility to the municipalities in the
other direction. They take all the credit and
pass on all the blame.
Will passing on more power to the
provinces unite the country? My fear is
that it will make it worse. The premiers will
still use Ottawa as a whipping boy when
they're in trouble, leading to continued
disunity there. If the federal government
gets out of trying to push language rights
all understanding will vaish. All one has to
do to realize that is lot* at Manitoba where
the province took away the rights of
French-speaking people or Quebec that
stripped the English of their rights or
Ontario where Premier Davis is too afraid
to lose a vote to make a move towards
helping the French-speaking population.
Our present provincial boundaries are so
large that I really doubt the government
will get much closer to the people. If we
want to give more power to the provinces,
we should subdivide the present 10
provinces into smaller units. Northern
Ontario, for instance, should be separated
from the rest of the province. Otherwise,
we're going to get all of the problems of
balkanization with very few' benefits. If, fot
instance, communications is handed over
to the provinces as is proposed, we'll learn
even less about people in other provinces
than we do now. To see how good a job the
provinces have done in teaching us about
the rest of our own country, take a look at
the education system that is dominated by
U.S. text books.
NO orie is a greater opponent of big
government than this writer but I do hope
that people Will do a lot of Serious thought
before turning more power over to the
provinces. instead of two solitudes, we
May end up with 10.
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