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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1981-07-01, Page 2EST 1072 ,t4 'Brussels Post 111411SSEy \.p....41, Box 50, Brussels, Ontario NOG 1H0 Established 1872 510,057,550 Serving Brussels and the surrounding community Published at BRUSSELS, ONTARIO every Wednesday morning by McLean giros. Publishers Limited. A Andrew V. McLean, Publisher Evelyn Kennedy, Editor Member Canadian Community Newspaper Association, Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association and The Audit Bureau of Circulation. Authorized as second class mail by Canada Post Office. Registration Number 0562. Behind the scenes WEDNESDAY, JULY 1, 1981 An inspiration A Canadian hero, Terry Fox, is dead. Terry Fox was a young man who captured the hearts of the Canadian people in a way that no one else had before. His was a true testament in courage, hope and faith. Whatever challenge he had to face, he was up to it. He started the Marathon of Hope to raise funds for cancer research and when the dreadful enemy caught up with him once more, the Canadian people took up the challenge where he had left off. Now that Terry Fox is dead, it is up to us to continue the work he started towards cancer research by doing whatever we can. May the memory of Terry Fox remind us of what it is possible to accomplish with the kind of spirit and determination that he had. Let's skate Roller skating seems to be in downward trend this year. It's too bad that this is happening since roller skating is a good form of exercise and entertainment. For those who really enjoy it, it would be a shame if this service of the arena were cut off. Roller skating can be fun for both children and adults if they would give it the chance it deserves. It should be a lot more fun than just sitting around on the streets doing nothing. Perhaps some ideas could be contributed to make roller skating more enjoyable. People always complain there's nothing to do in a community the size of Brussels. Rather than complain, they should take advantage of the services that are available. Man and woman, this is some crazy country. Whoever first said it: "eight months of winter, and four months of bad sleighing," wasn't far off the mark. You're hanging up the snow shovel with one hand, and reaching for the lawn mower with the other. Your lilacs just start out as the mosquitoes start zoning in. You huddle off to work in early May with snowboots, scarf and overcoat, plus headgear. Two days later, you embark in the same outfit, and it's like being in a sauna. Then you're into June, and anything can happen. One morning a frost, the next a heat wave, then a thunderstorm. And all around you things are growing like maniacs: mostly grass and weeds and children. The children , are OIC., but you can have the weeds. And you can mow the grass. Poets get a bit silly in spring. They talk about the tiny crocuses peep-their wee heads through the sullen earth. Show me a pound of asparagus growing like mad, and you can have eight pounds of crocuses. And they use all sorts of other images. I think it was Walt Whitman who wrote about grass as God's green handkerchief dropped. Well, mine doesn't drop. It shoots up as though the devil himself were pushing from below, and it grows about six inches in six hours. Did you ever try to mow a handetchief? Jime is pretty rot*, etpecially for a teacher. I dropped in on a Colleagule yesterday. His eyes were glazed; and scattered Mound him were about 1641 essays to be Marked., He vaguely recognized me, dropped his head on his desk, and moaned, "Isn't it a bastard?" I patted his head and rubbed his back, and when he came around, I agreed, "Yes". When I was editor, the coming of summer was rather a pleasure. I always made Opening Day of the trout fishing season in May. In June, I knew the advertising would fall off, because the merchants knew the summer tourist trade would make up for those bleak spring days of March and April. And then I looked forward to the summer, when I could sit in the office with one eye on the typewriter, and one on the tourists walking by: some like young gazelles, long-legged and brown as Masai Warriors with breast-works; others with the gait and shape of hippos; still others with the questing snout, the short-sightedness, and the short tempers of rhinoceri; and always the children, golden, round, and sleek as speckled trout without the speckles, Those were the days. But, as I grew more mature, June took on a different tint for me. It meant I was One year older, and not a bit smarter. And today, I realized, with a real touch of paranoia, thattthey're out to get me. I'd forgotten all about my birthday, as I usually do and my wife almost invariably does. In dint feint period this Morning, my kids started half-heartedly singing; "Happy Birthday, Les." Well, my name isn't Les. So ',hist Moaned a bit and told theM to shut up. I thought it must be the birthdays of sortie tack Star. Then I realized they were grinning at Les by Keith Roulston As Canadians celebrate the 114th birthday ci their country we are still awaiting the greatness promised by Sir Wilfred Laurier when he predicted the 20th century belonged to Canada. With only 19 years left in the century, that greatness seems almost cut of reach. There have been times when Canada has shown greatness: the world leadership in pursuit of peace for the Lester Pearson years and the current leadership in trying to bring the rich and poor nations closer together come to mind; but for the most part the tremendous promise of our land has not been realized. Of course, if you think Laurier talked about material possessions then Canada has become great beyond his wildest dreams. The lowliest citizen today has things in his home today that even a prime minister couldn't contemplate at the turn of the century. But of course Laurier wasn't talking merely about wealth. The problem is that to have a great nation you must have great people living in it and Canadians too often have shown an aversion to greatness. For a nation to be great it means more than electing great leaders, it means having the entire population contri- buting to that greatness. That means you and I doing our best to make the nation great. The role of government in this must be to open the roadways for greatness, not hinder it. For too long we have rewarded the wrong people in this country. Rewards have gone to the managers and merchandisers, not the creators. Look at the farm situation where a farmer produces food from soil and sunlight and his own know-how and effort and earns less usually than the girl at the checkout counter at the supermarket, let alone the processing company president or the supermarket manager. Look at the constant drain of Canadian artistic creative talent to other countries where they will be properly rewarded for their efforts. TECHNOLOGICAL LAG Canada today is suffering because we don't have enough creators. We are technologically behind because we don't have enough scientists doing research. We have sold our industries to other nations who are more interested in doing research in their own countries. One often hears the complaint in Canada of too much government interference, but the problem lies first and foremost with Dawe, a five footer who has had to be moved because he was pushing over six foot girls when they weren't looking. Hey. It struck me. It was my birthday too. I announced the fact, trying to steal a bit of Les's thunder. The response was terrific: "How old are you, Mr. Smiley? When are you gonna retire?" I responded by telling them they all had to write the final exams. They wouldn't believe me. They seldom do. Then I crashed down to the English workroom for smoke, There were eight teachers in there. I asked, "Who the hell is minding the store?" Started out, to get the department back in business. Was seized by a six footer and told I had to help eat a cake. The cake was delicious It must have cost them thirty cents each. The singing of "Happy Birthday" was the most cacopho- nous sound I've ever heard from a mixed group. Went to lUnch. The ladies in the cafeteria gave me a nudgee, toward retirement, too. business and the men who run it. We have let ourselves become a nation of stuffy-think- ing managers and merchandisers. Even great family fortunes such as Eaton and Thompson and Taylor have been managers, not creators. And pretty small thinking managers at that. While business talks about the Valhalla of free enterprise in the U.S„ few Canadian businesses are giving as much back to society as their counterparts in the U.S. The huge fortunes down there have been used for many worthwhile philanthrop- ic like the Ford Foundation or the Carnegie gifts of the early part of the century. If Canada is to become great it will be not through the efforts of a few but through the efforts of a great many. We have turned over the destiny of our country to a small handful of political leaders and an even smaller handfull of big business leaders. Worse still, we have put much of our future in the hands of people in New York, or Frankfurt or Tokyo, who have no reason to care about the future of Canada at all. For Canada to be great we must have a broad-based reawakening of what the country is all about. We must have people doing things because they want to do them, not just to collect a paycheque. We must get people involved in the country again whether in their jobs or in their volunteer activities. The potential is there. The greatness has been shown. It was shown in Centennial Year in 1967 when Canadians for a brief time realized just what they could do. They got excited and involved. Nearly every commun- ity became a better place because of what went on that year. But somehow we lost the spirit. The greatness surfaced again in the remarkable Terry Fox run. Here was a Canadian not afraid to be great, to take on a task that seemed far beyond any human being. Canadians responded to that great- ness, were touched by it as they hadn't been since 1967 and the greatness bloomed from one ocean to the other. For a brief time we gave up our wrangling and bitterness and we were great too, raising fabulous amounts to fight cancer. The greatness is there in Canadians, waiting to be awakened. What we have to learn is that when Sir Wilfred said the century belonged to us, he didn't mean it would be delivered or ordered like a pizza. We have to reach out and seize it with our imagination and our energy. Completely for free was a piece of pumpkin pie, with a single, burning candle in the middle of it. At least the candle didn't go out while I carried my macaroni and tomatoes into-the dining-room. A goodly symbol. But I took two puffs to blow it out. A not-so-goodly symbol. About then I began to realize the whole plot had been choreographed by some ones after my job, not.so-subtlely saying it was time I retired. I went over the potential power-hungries, the dissidents, the ladies to whom I'd told to-stop crying on my shoulder, I couldn't think of One with the brains to orchestrate it or the ability to step into my heavy shoes. Last stave was getting home and finding on the back porch a bottle of homemade pickle relish, sitting in a bowl of ice, with a message: "Roses are red, violets are purple, And we know June 2 is your birthday too." It . had to be my neighbour, whose sOn-in-law has the same birthday, and who makes great chill sauce. She's in. on. it, too. Now I know how those African prime ministers feel. Juju everywhere. It's some crazy country Sugar and spice By Bill Smiley Where's Canada's greatness? Write a letter to the editor today!