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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1972-09-06, Page 2Sugar and Spice by Bill Smiley AP Ali Iwo a Brussels Post, IM014111.1 ONTARIO WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1972 serving Brussels, and the surrounding' 60initiunity published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario by McLean PrOs. PI,Iblishers, Limited. Evelyn Kennedy Edit9r Tom Haley r Advertising Member Canadian Community Newspaper Association and,' Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association. Subscriptions fin advance) Canada $4.00 a year, Others $5.00 year, Single. CopieS 10 cents each. Second class mail Registration No. 0562. Telephone 887-0641. place in life's procession We tend to be cynical about everything these days, and. what is called, rather contemptuously, the "work ethic" has come in for its share of abuse. It's stupid to believe there is any inherent virtue in labor, "the line goes: "leisure is the thing-- the more of it the better." Labor Day is a good' time to question this assumption. Automation, fortunately has re- moved a great deal of drudgery and saved us, collectively, an immense amount of time, but work has tremen- dous human value that no amount of leisure can replace. Even in a highly specialized, mechanical society, where one's role is to provide only a part--often a tiny part--of some process, rather than sharing in the whole operation, a job has importance that far trans- cends the pay cheque. It "keeps the wolf of insignificance from the door." provides .the worker with the price- less knowledge that he is a neces- sary strand in the total fabric of the life around him. Ask any invalid, any unemployed person, any oldster what they miss; though they'll phrase it differently it will almost certainly be the sense that they are now outside the mainstream of society, onlookers rather than a part of it. Currently a great deal of thought and money is going into an attempt to help them recover their sense of worth. Leisure is precious, but it is the icing of life, not its solid food. Working "to get ahead" in the old competitive sense may have lost its motivating power, but work that se- cures one a place i,n what Kahlil Gibran calls "life's procession." is as valid a value as it ever was. (Contributed) To the Editor: Sir: vided you with the best stock. I would like to address this 5th: To see the results of the letter to all Huron County pork different feeds and feed- producers. ing Methods. At the Blyth fall fair on Sept. 6th: It helps to improve car- 20, there will be a barrow show. cass quality, and a better This is the only barrow show carcass results in better in Huron County. A pork pro- ducer has asked me why he pork, which results in more sales and ultimately in should take part and here higher prices. 7th: It 18 part of a pork pro- give,some of the reasons why he sould and why you should. motion program that costs you next to nothing and 1st: Pride in your product. 2nd: $150. - in prizes. can give you as extra a very nice prize indeed. 3rd: If you sell weaners, to prove that it makes sense Load a truck together with for buyers to come to your your neighbours and see how the new ultrasonic equipment works. barn and pay premium e proud of your indtistry. prices. 4th: If you buy your We avers Adrian Vos, Blyth. to see which Supplier pro- One of those new African nations is kicking out of the country all the Indians. This is an emotional and political rather than a rational decision. African blacks hate these Asian Indians because the latter are better educated and on the whole, much wealthier than the natives. The reason for this is that the Indians are smart, work hard, and in backward countries, usually wind up in control of much of the economy. Trouble is, with these Indians in Africa, that nobody wants them. Many of them have British passports, as their grand- fathers went to Africa when the territory was under British rule, to build railroads. They're clinging to these passports like life-belts, but it isn't doing them much good. Britain doesn't want them. It has enough racial strife on its hands already, after admitting thousands of Pakistanis, Indians and West Indians after the war. There have been race riots, white against coloured. India their homeland, doesn't want them. It already has more refugees than it can handle. Canada has been approached and, as usual, dithers. We could do a lot worse than accept a sizable chunk of these people withoat a home. They are industrious, peaceable and capable. They wouldn't be coming here as penniless immigrants. Most of them are fairly well off. Many of them have skills and professions we need. I don't know much about Indians. I have some Canadian Indian friends, but the only Asian Indians I have known well were four chaps with whom I learned to ,fly Spitfires in England, longer ago than I care to remember. Perhaps they weren't representative, because they were all from well-to-do families, and all spoke good English. But they were certainly across-section of that class, and gave me a good idea of why there is so much strife in India. You'd think that four youths who had come all the way from India for advanced training would have been pretty close, thrown into the midst of all those Poles, British, Australians, Canadians, and a dozen other species of whites. On the contrary, they could barely stand one another. There was Krishna. Smallish, very handSome, flashing black eyes that could almost literally flame when he was angry. He spoke such precise and fluent English that he made the rest of us feel like hicks. He ,A a5, d Christian. There was Ahmed. A lanky kid of about nineteen, Sleepy-eyed, slow-moving, a big grin, and not Much to say. He was a Pakistani Moslem. And little Koori. He was pigeon- chested, weighed about 115, had huge, mournful black eyes, and was in a perpetual state of terror when flying. He should never have been there. One day he and I were sent up to practice dog-fighting in our Spits. I knew he didn't like flying, but not until that day just how deep was his fear. Every time I'd take a pass at him and go, "Tut-tut-tut-tut" like a machine gun, he'd veer wildly off about a mile and call wildly, "Smilee, Smilee, don't come so close." He was a Hindu. And then there was the inimitable Singh Thandi. Flashing white teeth, chuckling eyes, magnificent silk turbans, under which he bundled his hair, which came down to his tail-bone. Curly black beard. Fastidious as a model. Kept his beard curly by tying a handkerchief around his jaw at night and knotting it on top of his head. Singh was a Sikh, another religion heard from. But he was a pretty lousy Sikh. They're not supposed to drink, smoke,cut their hair, and a lot of other things. He didn't smoke or cut his hair but he could put away about twelve pints of beer in an evening and, except for a little giggling, be none the worse. But he had his hangovers. He was a crafty devil. When he had a particularly bad head, he'd just stay in' bed. When the C.O. tried to give him a blast for his absence, he'd roll his eyes at the ig- norance of these infidels, and say politely "Sorry, sir, today is holy day for Sikhs. Cannot fly on holy day." The baffled. C.O. had no answer, as these Indian boys had to be well treated. Singh would have nothing to do with the other "Indians" and joined a convivial little group with Van, a Belgian, Sven, a Norwegian, a couple of Australians and Jack Ryan and myself, Canadians. With the beard, the turban and the silver tongue, he attracted girls like flies. He loved flying as Koori hated it. Never forget the time I shared a room with him 10 London, on a weekend leave. About 11 a.m. we started to pull our- Selves together. He got up, groaning, holding his head, and tottered about in his shorts, his great mass of hair hang- ing down to his bum. (He didn't wear a turban to bed.) There was a knock at the door, one of us grunted, "Come in", and the maid entered, to clean the room. At least she almost entered. She took one look, her mouth fell open, then she screamed and ran. Despite his head, Singh nearly threw up from laughing so hard. "I bet,Smilee, she thought' you were shacked up with the bearded lady from the circus." Singh was killed in Burma. .I like Indians. Let's invite more to our country.