HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1976-03-03, Page 2Evelyn Kennedy - Editor Dave Robb - Advertising
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Is politeness
out of date?
As the nation fusses over what Prime Minister
Trudeau meant about government controls' of the
economy and how they will affect individual.
freedoms and as the cry for human rights resounds
around the world, few people seem to pause these
days to consider how their own actions infringe, the
rights of their fellow man.
In our sometimes frantic efforts to keep ahead, to
cut corners, to look after ourselves, we too often
forget that common courtesy, basic hohesty and
simple concern for others is a right that is fast
disappearing.
Concern for others is the oil that keeps our daily
lives running smoother and the strident demands on
us are less jarring ' if we can expect that our
neighbour will respect our rights.
But, unfortunately, more and more it is everyone
for himself. Politeness is for squares. Littering the
streets with garbage is accepted. Cutting the traffic
lights, pilfering from work, beating the government,
departing the parking lot after denting a fender are
examples of indifference to our fellow man.
Little things, you might say, when compared with
Violations of the rights of minorities, the death
bombings in Ireland or the crises that shake the
world. But it occurs to us that if each person put the
extra few seconds and happily endured tiny
•intonvenientes that go with .caring for our neighbour
-.that the larger demands Made on our society could
more easily be met.
In the -long run 'petty dishonetty, lack of integrity,
discourtesy and indifference' come horse to roost. For
the very callousness we display towards the people
with whom we have daily contact, is all the more
easily passed on to us by unfeeling and insensitive
powers that control our lives.
Like all good things courtesy can be contagious
and rewarding.
(Contributed)
. Marsh World Ducks, Unlimited (Canada)
WILtEt (Catopitophoriii:-Aemipaitiiiitus) This
iftiproStiVe shotebird fins two widely .eparated
br eeding ranges in Catibd the-.0uthetn .ptaitie.
provinces _and the:Cost of Nova SdOtie. The most
distinguish field. mark of this generally -Otty,.
straight-billed bird is the broad white band- Oh
the black wings,. the legs. ere'. blue,iatey, the
noisy willeti can be found in graSSy . meadows
prairie ponds or long :Snit ttibetheS of the
eat coast.
'MumsHIED
gBrussels Post
"In
IIROSISELS
ONTARIO
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 3, 1976
Serving BruSsels and the surrounding community.
Published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean Bros. Publishers, Limited.
Amen
by Karl Schuessler
A Winter Tale
This seems to be one of those winters
that simply must be "got through", like a
serious illness, or a 'bad marriage.
Now, as a Canadian of a couple of score
years and then some, I know there's no use
whining. We h ave to pay a price for living
in the finest country in the world, and
winter is the price.
But there is, surely, a limit to the
inflation of that price.This time around, it's
getting a bit ridiculous.Whoever is in
charge of the weather up there has got to
the point where he's just showing off,
trying to dazzle us with the virtuosity of his
(or her) performance.
One day you are. running around
mopping up water because-the pipes have
frozen and burst.The next day the
temperature has soared 40 degrees and
you are down in the basement mopping up
the melted snow that has run in.
A third day you 'start Walking to work in
sunshine, are caught in a blizzard howling
clown from the Pole, get hopelessly lok,
and wind up in a supermarket or funeral
parlor instead of your place of work.
We don't have any in our town, bUt I'm
told tha,,t in the city, some guys have been
so badly lost in Some of our storms that
they have wandered inadvertently into one
of them there massage parlors.
As I write this, at school, we have just
sent the kids h oine early on the buses
because the roads were blocking in quickly.
As soon as the buses left, out came the
sun, down dropped the wind, it's a perfect
winter day, and we're sitting here with egg
oh our face, and no students.
But just the other day, we kept the kids
in school for the full day, even though it
was storming, and wound up with two
busloads of students on our hands for
overnight.
We got them all bedded down in the
homes of teachers and parents.
I was batching it, had lots of room at
home, and offered to take five girls for a
pyjama party, or five boys for a poker
party. They tunic(' me down. 'The
administration, not the kids.
This week, some of ottr history students
are going to be involved m a live-in at Fort
St. Marie i a replica of a 17th century Jesuit
settlement, Theoretically, they will
experience the actual winter living
tonditons of those times. No modern aids
to beat the cold, such as oil furnadeS,
pocket heaters or booze, Just leti of
clothes, hits Of prokimity (it's a mixed
grotip)4 and .open fires.
Good -luck to them. They should have
taken a dog team. They'll probably bring
Out the frozen bodies in the spring.
On the other hand, knowing students
and the precocity of youth, I'll venture to
say it will be one big party, and an
ocperiefice to be savored for life.l3tit
glad I'm not chaperoning,
From son Hugh, in the desert-like Chaco
country of Paraguay, comes a cry from the
other end of the stick. "Oh, for one, just
one, white, cold Canadian winter day! The
temperature here ranges from about 100 to
130 and just to keep yourself cleaned of
sweat and dust requires almost all the
energy you can summon." I wish I could
trade him one of ours for one of his.
In the midst of this wild winter, my
second grandson chose to make his
appearance at the usual hour, 3:30 a.m. 'He
was a healthy eight-ounder and resembles
quite a bit, so the ladies say, his big
brother Pokey. I cant- relly tell• at that age.
To me, they all look like tiny orang-
outangs.
I hope, for my own sake, that he has a
little less energy •than his older brother.
The Poke burns up more steam in a day
than Ali. Muhammad, does in a 15-round
title fight. And 'when I try to keep up with
him for an hour, I come out feeling like Joe
Frazier.
The kid is a week old, and they don't
even have a name for him yet, Maybe it's
just as well. Maybe this time reason will
prevail,
Last time, my daughter was reading
Dostoievski, a Russian novelist, and my
son-in-law was dabbling in I Ching,
Chinese pseudophilosphy. Poor little kid
was named Nikov Chen. That's why I call
him Pokey.
This time, my daug tiler is studying
music and my sod-in-law architecture.
Don't be surprised if ',announce, one of
these days, that the'lateit addition to the
family has been named Ludwig. Johann
Sebastian Arthur Lloyd Wright Sieber.
Poor little fellow.
Or Sibelius Kaarinneti Sieber.' That
would put the finnishing touch to his
futute. Imagine going through life being
called Sibby Sieber..
If they commit any such abomination,
revenge myself in the usual way.
Remember that Silly old sting-dance,
"Doing the Cokey-Okey°'/
nickname this one ()key. And he and
his brother and I: will join hands; dance
around in_a ring, and sing to his disgusted
parents, "We're doing the Pokey-Okay,
and that's what it's all about". -That'll fik
them;
Aside from all the rigors of the weather;
january and February are going, to be
expensive months in the future. Two
grandsons' birthdays in January, wife and
daughter's birthdays in February. All that
on top of the fuel bills,
However. I-lowever, let it snowy let it
bloW.What dicer midWinter gift could a
fello*get than a fine, healthy grandson?
Maybe a grariddaitghterl Nothing less.
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