HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1980-12-03, Page 2Ontarians, scorched by the fires of
separatism from the east for nearly two
decades can feel the heat coming from the
other side these days as a new separatist
movement grows in the west.
Throughout the western provinces old
grieVances have been fanned by new anger
over actions some westerners feel, are a
declaration of war against them by the
economic and political powers in the wicked
east. •
Mistrust and hatred of the east goes back
as far as western settlement itself. Some Of it
is real, some of it elaggerated. In Clearing
In. The West, Kellie McClung recalls an
incident in her family in the 1880's shortly
after the family had moved to Manitoba from
Grey County in Ontario. A great' piece of
progress had come to the farm, An agent
from an eastern machinery company had
visited the neighbourhood and offered a
_ special price on binders if the neighbour-
hood would order six. Six farmers, including
Mrs. McClung's family scraped together the
$340 to purchase each of the marvellous
machines and looked forward to the ending
of some of the backbreaking work of cutting
the grain by hand. •
The binders arrived and so did trotible.• On
the third round of the field the knotter broke
and from then bn it was one part after
another breaking, men always on the run to
Brandon for' parts, costs increasing. One
part broken was the wooden tongue of the
binder which had an old crack in it that had
been sanded down and painted over by .the
company. All the neighbours had the same
problems 'but the company denied any
responsibility. One of the letters read:
"Every part of our machine is tested by
experts, but no machine can do good work in
the hands of a bungling operator, and
unfortunately we cannot supply the brains,
our business is, machinery." '
SNEERING LETTER
If someone said that to a farmer's face, the
farmer would be tempted to pop him one.
But thousands of miles separated the
frustrated western farmers from the sneer-
ing letter writer. In their isolation the
westerners could do nothing but commiset-
ate among themselves and with no outlet for
frustrations the ill feeling can only grow.
After a century of bitterness, the westerners
can see the shoe being put on the other foot
now. They are the ones who control the most
important resourses of eastern Canada. One
can hardly blame them for looking for a little
revenge.
Westerners see government oil policies as
an attempt of the eastern establishment to
shaft them agian, to hold on to power at the
expense of the west. How much of this is real
and how much imagined is hard to know for
sure. With 100 years of old grievances
gathered 'like a chip on the •'Shoullder,
westerners may be overly sensitive. Their
Sensitivity is fanned by westetn politicians
who have a goid deal to gain by playing west
agianst east.. The situation isn't helped by
idiotic statements from the Prime Minister
such as the one that there iS absolutely,no
chance of independence in, the west. •
But, as in so many of these movement, the
western separatist movement is led, so far at
least, by 'little people. Little in this sense
doesn't refer to the little guy, the ordinary
man, although many of the ordinary people
are glad to jump on, the bandwagon,'
urntmems
The littleness is,in the minds of the people
who have been turning out to the meetings,
and more so in the minds of the people who
have been stirring up unrest. Their cam-
paign has not 'been a campaign of Positives
but of hate. In order to get their .andience
.riled up they often turn, not to the inequities
of freight rates, the oil pOlicy and such
justifyable complaints, but to hate• propa-
ganda that appeals to people with a lot of
pettiness in them. The discourse goes on
about French on the cornflakes box, about
how the Prime Minister doesn't want a
bilingual country but a French one. They
bring up. the lack of a war record by the
Prime Minister. They bring ups everything
that, appeals to the baseness of the audience.
; GLAD TO HATE
There are people who are glad to hate
everywhere. They were the people Hitler
whipped up to 'hate the Jews and give him
power in Germany. They are the people 'who
were encouraged to don white headgeat,and .
terrorize the blacks in the U.S. from a
century after the American Ciyil War gave
the blacks supposed equality 'with whites.
They are the people willing to listen -to the
Klu Klux Klan today here 'in Canada. 'They '
are the petty minds who complain to store
keepers in our own towns around here if the
French side of a soap can is left showing out
on the grocery shelf or if they haye to suffer
the incredible hardship of listening to half
their national anthem sung in French. They
are the people who gruble about "Pakis" or
inveigh against Boat People being brought
into the country. They are the people who
built the separatist movement in' Quebec
through hatred of the Anglais.
But hate is no way to build a country.
.Whether they choose to be united with the
rest of the country or independent, the west
must stop these little people with their
message of hate from running their affairs.
11172%
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A movement hate
014,the.seonos"...
- by Keith RoulstOn:
How do you tackle your work today?
Are you scared of the job you find?
Do you grapple the task 'that comes your
way? a
With a confident,easy mind?
* * * *
This Saturday, December 6, Santa is -
coming to Brussels with goodies for the
.children. There will be a parade with bands,,
and floats and free skating at the B.M. & G.
arena after Santa's visit. While the children
enjoy this, parents can visit the business
places. Stores are bulging with things you
will need to prepare for holiday, festivities as
well as a wide variety of lovely and useful
articles for Christmas gifts. Why not take a
look around and find the things you want
right here in your own home town. Do this
before you burn up extra gas travelling
elsewhere to shop. Give your business to
your friendly home town merchants, not to
strangers somewhere elie who do not ;care
one whit about you. All they are interested in
is how much money you spend.
* * * * * *
If you enjoy watching figure skating you
should have seen Toiler Cranston on "Stars
on Ice" last week. It was evident that the
audience in attendance were knowledgeable
enough about figure skating to appreciate
his performance. During the presentation of
other skaters the audience applauded every
movement they found exciting. This was not
their reaction to Toller Cranston's solo
number. Other than the music he skated t6
there was total silence. One could almost
feel the hushed concentration as they
watched his athletically artistic
tion of the music. At the close there was
explosive applause. They paid him 'the the
ultimate tribute a: performer can receive-
absolute silence during the number with a
genuine outburst of appreciation at the end.
* * * *
Reading a book in which the story
covered the years of Civil War in the U.S.
stirred uneasy thoughts. That struggle to'
unite the country shattered family ties,
caused heart-rending decisions when sym-
pathy was felt for one side but loyalty
belonged to the other. What agony there
must have been when brother, faced brother
in opposing battle lines. A trace of bitterness
between the north and the south lingers on
with the unrest in our country at present,
hard-core separatists bent On indepers .d-
ence and vociferous bitter descendents busy
elsewhere, is it possible Canada can be torn
apart? Can it happen here? That horrifying
probability is not inconceivable. Until every-
one is willing to work, together for the good'
of ,all, sacrifice for the good of all, we can
never live in the certainty of peace. May cool
heads and common humanity prevail.
* * * * * *
Does one ever get tired of seeing and
hearing, "The Sound of Music"? Once
again, last week, I watched that musical on
TV. A titer all the clap-trap that invades the
air waves these days it was a refreshing
pleasure to enjoy that superb acting and
delightful music. The joy of the children, the
love story, without the intrusion of blatant
sex, the tragedy of war that drove them int o
exile, and the music make "The Sound of
Music" a lasting favourite.
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WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 3, 1980
Shart,,Shots
by Evelyn Kennedy
The old lady gets home and I get the flu
Sugar and spice
By Bill Smiley
Shotgun column coming up. Reason?
I've just been through a real mother of a flu
attack, and the little bit of brain matter still
alive, inside a body that feels as though the
Gestapo had been having a go at it, is not
capable ,of the usual sustained, melodious,
incomparable prose essay.
Item. After looking forward to my old lady
_getting home from two weeks in the north
country, after laying on arrangements for
her to be picked up at the airport and
dropped at our door, after making the house
look as thought I'd hired an expert
housekeeper, I blew it.
I was listening to a particularly noisy TV
programme. I wandered downstairs about
the time she was to arrive, just in time to
find her opening the cellar door with an
,expression the Gorgon would have envied.
She'd got in a bit early, rung the doorbell
when she found the door locked. No
response. She checked the garage. Yes, the
car was there; he wasn't off somewhere
carousing, unless on foot. Lights in the
house all on.
More doorbelf ringing. No answer. Finally
she forced open one of the cellar windows
and crawled in, dragging her best white
suitcase behind her, across the woodpile
beneath the window. I'd kept the door
locked, because I'd become used to doing so
While she was away. Hadn't heard the bell.
Five minutes after she got home, I was
wishing she'd go away for another two
weeks.
Day after she got home, I got the flu,
which she took as a personal affront. Lay
around groaning and hawking and spitting
and drinking plenty of fluids, until she was
wishing she'd stayed away for another two
weeks.
Item. • Doctors and weOtheaning friends
urge you to take it easy, that you are not
indispensable. Well, they're completely
wrong. Some of us are indispensable.
Like me. I took two days in bed, and
returned to work to find chaos. Three
members of my English staff off sick, one of
them for good, eighteen pieces of admini-
strivia to sort out, new timetables to be
arranged, and, feeling like a wet rag that has
just been wrung out, eleventy-seven essays
and tests to mark, and four exams to set.
I'm looking at those New Career ads in the
paper. Can't seem to find anything suiting a
venerable gentleman with no manual .or
technical or organizational skills. I'm think-
ing seriously of joining my son when he goes
to Paraguay. Surely I could be of some use
down there. I make a fine pot of tea, and
could teach English as a Second Language,
and I am an expert of dandling babies on my
knee. •
Item. Budget. Allan McEachin should be
renamed Allan Mach MacKenzie
King is chortling in his grave as he watches
one of his disciples go through the old
Liberal routine: you can fool most of the
people most of the time; use the carrot as
well as the stick; never let your left hand
know what your right hand is doing; learn to
speak out of both corners of your mouth at
the same time; and energy taxes if necessary
but not necessarily energy taxes.
If the average household ran its budget as
does the federal government, we'd all be on
welfare. And that's just about where Canada
stands now. On welfare. Borrowing from one
finance company. Holding out its hands to
the poor, with gall in one palm, and vinegar
in the other.
Item. The Consti-
bloody-tution. Trudeau acting like a near-
' sighted lion, with his comfortable majority.
Joe Clark and Ed Broadbent waving futile
fists in the air. And the provinces, like so
many jackals, each striving to tear off a juicy
morsel of meat before the lion roars,
Item. I'll never write another ode to
October. This has been the rottenest (rotten,
rottener, rottenest?) in many a year. Where
are the Octobers of yesteryear, with their
magnificant colours, their clear blue' skies
and mellow sunshine, their opportunity to
haul out the boat or get in a last few rounds
of golf?
It rains. It Sleets. It snows. And it's
mightly cold, in our parts. The splash of
brilliant colour has been turned a sort of
dun, and the wind and rain have stripped the
foliage before it had a chance to show its
fancy undergarments.
Item. Somebody is after me. Lost a filling.
Twenty-one bucks. Caught not wearing my
safety harness. Twneyt-eight bucks. Sink
plugged. Fifty-two bucks. The Feds are after
me for income tax errors. Somebody stole
my wallet. Two hundred, Storm windows
coming up. Aver a thousand, and at the
rate we're going, it'll be April before they're
on. Brickwork needs about three hundred.
Whole house needs painting, inside and out.
About two thousand.
Oil and gas bills going up. Corn on sole of
right foot killing me, Telephone bills
exorbitant. Inflation far ahead of salary
increase. Well, I don't have to fill any
More details. We're all in the same leaky.
boat.
However, the only way to do it is.tt day at a
time. Tomorrow, I'll be a day nearer the
grave, but have done tremendous things;
shaving my face, brushing my teeth, going •
to work, marking some essays, sorting out a
squabble among the Grade 10's. The
possibilities are limitless.