HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1972-01-05, Page 2Sugar and Spice
by Bill Smiley
Serving Brussels and the surrounding eeelle-lunity
published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean Bros, Pielisher$, Limited,
Evelyn. Kennedy .Bditor
Member .Canadian Community Newspaper Association and.
Ontario Weekly Newspaper As-50;2040PD.
Subscriptions. fin advance) Canada $4.:00.4 year,,Dthers
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The New Year In Brussels ,
Each. New Year is like a door open-
ing into the unknown of a dark room
and when the bells rang and the horns
blew at Midnight last.Friday night,
none of us knew what the future might
hold.
We could project, of course, and
make educated guesses which,in most
instances,would likely turn out to be
correct. But prognosticate to our
hearts desire an,d to the best of our
ability we still would find to some
degree we would be wrong.
Who among us, for instance, as we
entered 1971 a year .ago, would have
suggested that we were on the verge of
experiencing the worst winter, the
most snowfall, the longest storms in
more than a score of years, or that we
would have autumn-like weather until
the year end including not only new
record high temperatures but also a
green Christmas;or that Premier Davis,
after a cliff-hanging contest for the
leadership of his party and an appar-
ent unanimity of criticism concerning
school boards, assessment take over
and municipal down grading, would be
returned with a new and larger major-
ity; or that the Prime Minister would
be married and that the Trudeaus would
have a brand new Justin Pierre on
Christmas Day?
Here in Brussels, as we begin this.
New Year of 1972, and despite its un-
certainties there are some things
about which we can be assured.
We know we are going to be faced
with an extremely busy year. Commenc-
ing with the Lions Club Polar Daize
program,which gets underway next week,
the series of events and planning
leading up to the Brussels Centennial
celebrations next summer, will leave
few idle moments for area citizens
involved in the activities.
This is as it should be ,It is only
through cooperation and participation
of people of all ages and in varying
capacities that a community-wide event
such as a Centennial celebration can
achieve full success.
Pictures ?
We look forward throughout Brussels Centennial year
to reproduce from time to time pictures reflecting activity
in the community in the years agone. To do this, we seek
the cooperation of readers khewing of such pictures and
who 'would be willing to loan them. pictures which.could
include groups, activities, buildings or scenes suggesting
ways of life in earlier years shoUld be accompanied by a
brief description including when possible the names of
individuals shown. All pictures will be returned. Pictures
may be left at the Brussels Post or phone 88/-6641 and
arrangements will be made to pick them up.
Looking back on 1971, t find it con-
tains the year's usual melange of ehegboci
and evil, the sweet and bitter, the laily
worm within the luscious apple.
An old friend, Don McCuaig of Renfrew,
won the Best Newspaper award among
Canada's weeklies.I've thought for several
years that he had the best weekly in the
country (sorry about that, all you other
chaps who turn out first-class weeklies),
but never got around to telling him.
On the other side of the fence, I read
an editorial In the Bowmanville Statesman,
an old, established, many times winner of
prizes, written from his hospital bed by
another old friend, John James, T his
shook me a bit,
Haven't "seen Don mcCuaig for some
years, but we have an old pact. He was
in the army and one day was being slightly
harassed by Hun .88's, a fearsome gun,
if ever there was. A flight of Typhoons
came over and silenced the Jerry guns.
We met at a newspaper convention and
he promised me he'd buy me the biggest
and best dinner I could eat every time
we got together, because I'd been a
Typhoon pilot. And he still sends an
annual invitation to come trout . fishing
in the Ottawa Valley, the natal place
of many great men, like us.
Last time I saw John James, he
and two gigantic sons were whaling golf
balls at a weeklies' tournament, while
puddled along with my usual slices, hooks
and various blunders of the links. Get
well, John, and hit them a mile.
Here's a clipping and note from Tom--
my Lee, former weekly editor and now
PR. man with Royal Trust. 1-10, too, was
a pilot. The clipping is about the big
aircrew reunion in Winnipeg arid the
note chides me for not hobnobbing with
the mob. I wanted to go, Tommy, but
my wife wouldn't let me. She didn't
want inc shipped home in a casket.
An here's a note from Walter K0Y-
anagi of the Taber, Alta., Times, giv-
ing me hell for using the term ',Jape"
in a column. He claims that the Word
,,Jap', is derogatory and objectiohable.
To me, it's just an abbreviation. lie
also doUbts if I would Call a German or
Italian Other than such in public print.
see above,- Walter. I Wouldn't gem a
diddle If somebody called -Canadians
"Cans''. In fact, it tight be suitable.
Many of us have the figure and the
mental teeillence of a Can.
Here's a huge newspaper from Oroe
inocto, N13,e in which I learn that a
dear old friend, George Cadogah, Who
actually got this column going, can't
`resist the smell of printers' ink and
has got back into the scramble of run-
ning a weekly, after a letter swearing
that he was going to take it easy and
spend the winter in Spain. Take it
easy, George. Oromocta is a long way
from Majorca, But good luck, Lord
Thomson of the Maritimes.
And- the bitter. News that a close
friend of my wife's , a dedicated
Catholic nun, and one of the most vi-
brant, cheery personalities one could
meet, is seriously Ill, Young in age and
spirit, she resists my firm conviction
that God does not tesee the little spar-
row fall." Bless her.
Here's a buoyant letter from my
Uncle Ivan, who has suffered the tragic
loss of a brilliant son, and the death of
his wife in a stupid car accident, is 79,
and is off to Florida, and thinks he'll
drive this time.
And just before Christmas, friends
of ours lost a little six-year-old angel
of a girl, who was pitilessly smashed
to rags in a stupid, unnecessary car
accident, on her way home from school.
And so it goes; the bitter and the
sweet, the good and bad, the joyous
and the tragic. Life; and it's the only
one we have.
I don't want to spoil a mood, or
appear frivolous, but we had the whole
thing distilled in our Christmas vaca-
tion with two cats.
We have a fat, neutered lady called
Pip, bequeathed to us by Kim when she
left home.
Well, Pip has established the fact
that she is queen of her own domain.
She chases everything from squirrels
to butterflies to spiders out of her
backyard in suit:Der, and deigns to spend
the winter eating and sleeping.
Home from college comes Kim, sneak-
ing
'
in a box with air-holes, the rauchiest,
randiest young tom eat you've ever laid
eyes on. For the first few days, Pip
tried to lay down the law as to whom the
house belonged . The pre-Christ-
MaS air was rent with howls and screams
as they clashed. I'd put one in the
cellar, the other in the back johnnie,,
Finally, fat Old pip got tad pooped
to participate. After a few days, they
decided to co-ekiet, and now spend their
tithe chasing each other up the drapes
and o'er the Upholstery.
Maybe there's a message here, sotrie,
Where. The good and the bad, the bitter
and the sweet, are part of life; and we
can either accept it or run away froth it.