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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1977-09-07, Page 13Bonnie S Men's &Ladies' Hair Styling 1 OPEN Tuesday to Saturday noon and Wednesday Evenings Turnberry Street next to Texan Grill Phone •887-9237 i 'POUND SPANISH FOR PEANUTS °KY 1 lb. per family • When you present this ad personally at Coyle's Factory Outlet 260 Tillson Ave.; at CoYle Lane; TilitOnbUrg .• Fresh Roasted Cashews; Peanuts and Mixed Nuts , Taking a Cake.detOratitig Cattle? We have the supplies you need. Bagt Couplers — Tubes — Spatulas. B in Colours -- Prettied [weeds ; Plow& Nalla all by Wilton Of dhiCage, STORE HOURS: Molt: to Sate 9.30 t66 Fie 4 9t3Ita.ith. to 9 040. OpebThUtS.; Oa, 6 until 9 p.m. SPECIALS IN ALL DEPARTMENTS THROUGHOUT THE DAY children must be ACCOMObnied by in 'THIS tAlPiEttlXinitES ;0017Aiji 1977 MARRIED .50 YEARS -7: The home of Mr. and Mrs. J. Harworth Hughes of Branchton, Ontario was the scene of a reception on September 1 to honour their aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Howard R. Ellis of Woodstock and Ethel, who were married 50 years ago in the Division Street United Church, Owen ',Sound by the late Dr. John L. McInnis. The weather was perfect for the over 60 relatives who gathered in the garden surrounded 'by shrubs, flowers and trees where a buffet luncheon was served and the happy couple showered with gifts and good wishes. The program was arranged by Bertha and Hayworth Hughes and Burgess and John Ellis. Relatives were present from;•Florida, Owen Sound, Belleville,- Toronto, Waterloo, Kitchener, Stratford, Mitchell, Tillsonburg, Hespler, Cambridge, Milton, Norval, Branchton, Ottawa, Michigan, Mississauga and England. 'THE BRUSSELS POST,, SEPTEMBER 7, 1,977-,13 Vanishing traditions Sugar and Spice by Bill Smiley took a girl down to that river bank, probably hoping that the atmosphere (the duel was fought: over a lady) might have some effect on her. It didn't. Summertimes, before the Great DepressiOn put an end ,to such frivolities, we went to a cottage up in Quebec, on a small, beautiful lake. Just up the hill from the lake were two farms, and I spent many hours jumping in haymows, helping bring in the cattle, turning the separator, helping to load hay on the wagon, drinking from the kipper in the pail in the kitchen, and staying for supper and fresh blueberry pie, if I could wangle it. At Belshers' farm, the nearest, we got most of our grub. Fresh produce picked from the garden. Daily milk at 10 cents for a five-pound honey pail full. Unhomogenized. Unpasteurized. Delicious. A couple of fat fowl for Sunday dinner, if relatives came, and they did in droves, at 50 cents each. Unplucked. Uneviscerated. Delicious. Fggs at 30 cents a dozen. Uncandled. Unsorted. Delicious. You can't hardly turn your back these 'days but one or other of our old traditions has either vanished or changed for the worse. This great thought came to me, for no reason, as I was speeding down the highway the other day, wincing every time a big transport nearly'blew me off the road, shouting opprobrium every time (some punk in a sports car cut in _front emitting those vile noises reminiscent of a bear with the dire rear. You know, Bill, I said to myself, rather querulously, "one of these fine days, you won't be able to find a farmer who can drive a team of horses. Fix a tractor, yes. Drive a bulldozer, likely. But ,not ktowing the difference between `Haw' and `Gee'." Well, this thought, in its very profundity, made me sort of gloomy, and the gloom deepened as day after day cattle further evidence that our whole society, as you and I knew it, Mabel, is disappearing behind our very backs. I was saddened when I took my two grandboys out to a local farm the other day, to pick some corn and beans. Plunked them down between the rows of corn and they were bewildered. The littlest howled with terror of this alien corn. They'd never been on a farm before, and may never be on one again. Quelle dommage! I must admit they weren't baffled for long. In five minutes, Nikov was lost in the corn patch, locatable only by the piping "I found a big one, Grandad!" and little Balind was sitting in the damp clay, happily picking and eating yellow beans. But I felt a'twinge of pity for them, that' they'll never ride on top of a load of hay, never get a squirt in the face of warm milk right from the cow's teat, never have the fun of turning the handle of a separator, never see a farmer sharpening a scythe on a grindstone, or a farmer's wife beheading the chicken that was to be dinner. *** I didn't grow up on a farm, but in that most pleasant of all places for a boy to grow, a small, tree-lined town in old Ontario, with farms all arodnd it. My uncle bought a farm just on the edge'of town, and few of the aspects of farm life were a secret to me. It was a grand old place, formerly the estate of a gentleman farmer of means. There must have been 15 different outbuildings, most of them in a state of dilapidation. There was a huge old house, boasting several fireplaces and even a butler's pantry. Sort of a run-down Jalna, but a great place for a boy, to visit. As it turned out, it was a lousy farm, and he lost a fair chunk of his: shirt when he finally sold it and bought a real farm. But for a romantic kid, who read a lot, going out to the farm was the equivalent of , visiting relatives who had come down in the world a bit, but were still aristocrats. My uncle, a hardy old Irishman who liyed to be 94, bought a farm then on the other side of town, but it was just a plain farm. Its great redeeming quality was that on the bank of the river that flowed through it was fought the last duel ever fought in Canada. Many a time I searched the ground for bullets. Some years later I even By prompt action rust el s he prompt action of a Brussels an is credited with saving the ves of three persons, trapped side a car which' caught fire tooting an accident neat itghajn in August, Ptatik Rutledge was passing by hen he saw the Mishap; and shed to renteVe the occupants othOiitSbdfore the vehicle btirSt fidnies, Wingham Fire thief V6: tepott§., Ilthey hadn't been removed all 611.1d have bdtiOtodi, The Belshers were' the nearest thing I ever had to grandparents. They were elderly, their own family grown and gone. • Mr. Basher was a huge, raw-boned man with a magnificent moustache who could hit a hen at 10 paces with a squirt of tobacco juice. He knew about k,i ds, and let us fork hay, handle the reins, feed the chickens, and give a pail of milk to a greedy calf, a robust experience. His wife was as tiny as he was huge. Worn with toil, deaf as a doorknob, sharp as a tack. And gentle, generous, warm. She• knew perfectly well that small boys do not have stomachs, but bottomless pits. The other farm was the Kelly's. The name was right on, They were like something straight from the ould sod. Maggie had pure white hair and the classic features of,a Deirdre of the Sorrows. She was stuck with a brother, Jim, who had the 'worst stammer I have ever heard. He' sounded retarded, but I think it was only the stammer. He' loved kids. At Kays', we got drinking water and worms. They had a well of such pure, icy water it would shame champagne. Behind the barn was a spot where we could always get worn-is, those skinny, red wrigglers ideal for catching speckled' trout. No charge for water or worms. Today's farmer Would want 50 cents for a pail of water and a dollar for a dozen s worms. We never bought much at Kellys',. I think Maggie was too proud .to sell to the summer people. But she let us play with the lambs and feed the pigs. Perhaps we were the only children she ever had. She never petted us or played with us. She was taciturn, almost grim. But once in a while the piercing blue eyes softened into something like the nearest should come to a grin. Ah, my poor grandboys, back to their home in the city. Noise, heat, smog, violence, confusion. Ah, fleeting 'years. What wouldn't I give to be 10 years old, digging worms beneath the manure behind Kellys' barn! Police report Mr. Laking was westbound along Highway 86 about a mile and a half east: of Wingham last Thursday morning when his vehicle crossed over the roadway, entered the ditch and struck two trees.. _ Wingham fire department was, called to the scene when the eat bttrst into, flames; they eXtiri gUiShed the fire and looked after the occupants until the anibulance arrived. Mr. Crothers said the vehicle Was a total loss; man :Saves lives Crothers added, as the car was blazing like a tanker when the fireman arrived, The driver Of the car, Milford Lakibg, and two passengers, Sonya UrbonaS and an infant, tOrna Laking, all of Toronto, Were taken by ambulance Wingham hospital. Mr. Laking was admitted with multiple injuries and Miss Urbonas with lacerations' and abdominal pain The baby was released following observation.