The Brussels Post, 1977-12-21, Page 24Brownie Pack.
• Parade Saturday. Second place went-to the Brussels
(Photo by Langlois)
BEST FLOAT IN THE PARADE — The Brussels Girl.
Guides float was judged the best in the Santa Claus
24 THE BRUSSELS POST, DECEMBER 21, 1977 1
"Vtl,W r;);19M5iWtt,
Sugar and Spice
by Bill Smiley ►
Christmas observations
Do you find it harder and harder each
year to get revved up for Christmas? You
have company.
When the advertising begins right after
Thanksgiving, and the Santa Clauses
become ubiquitous by mid-November, and
the carols are mere cliches by
• mid-December, it's hard to reach that peak
of emotion that combines Christian joy for
the birth of Christ and pagan revelry to
celeb rate the equinox, by the time
Christmas itself rolls around.
One of the trite remarks of modern life is
that Christmas has become Commercial-
ized. But don't blame the merchants.
Blame ourselves. We can call this a plast ,ic
age, but it 'is we who use the plastic,
whether it be in the form of goods, ideas or
enterainment.
It is we who scurry madly through those
overheated stores, going slightly paranoid
over the business of buying gifts for people
who don't need them.;
It is we who eat and drink too much at
Christmas, which, if the truth were told,
should be a time of fasting and purifica-
tion, until our heads were las light as our
hearts.,
Wouldn't it be much more appropriate
if, on Christmas Eve, instead of having
people in for eggnog and goodies, we
threw out that pagan image, the Christmas
tree, turning off the lights, except for a
candle or two, turned the furnace right off,
and sat around in the cold and dark,
transferring ourselves to a stable in
Bethlehem on a winter night?
No? You don't think much of that idea?
Neither do I. It's like saying that in the face
of the coming energy shortage we should
all blow up our cars, stop u sing hot water
and deodkants, grow our own food in the
back yard, and chop down all the trees in
the park for firewood.
Whether we like it or not, we are caught
up' in the headlong race of the human
species toward its goal, whether it be
suicide or glory, and there's no turning
back.
So get that tree up, buy a fat turkey,
spoil your children rotten with an over-
whelm of gifts, and stuff yourself silly as a
Roman senator at an orgy.
This year it's the Mounties. Next year
the government may do away with
Christmas • altogether because it cuts too
deeply into increasing our Grosse National
Product..
My old lady and I almost gave up on
Christmas this year., We thought of all the
work to get realty and flinched, I
suggested going south for a week to play
some golf, letting our daughter and her
brood take over our house and have their
Christmas here. She was all for it.
Then we had The Boys for a week, and
ritily revised our plans. We realized that
hose two were allowed to run unchecked
for a week, we might as well put the house
up for sale when we gothome, or set fire to
it, if there. was enough left standing to
make a blare.
If it weren't for that mob, going away
would have been easy, both physically, and
emotionally. I could enjoy ,Christmas
dinner in a. hotel inTexas just as much as I
do at home, where I have to stuff the bird,
mash the turnips and wash 8,000 dishes far
into the night.
I think I might just possibly be able to
forego having to find a Christmas . tree,
dragging it in covered in snow, and
spending four hours trying to get the dam'
thing to stand upright.
It would be a wrench, but I might even
be able to stand not watching my
grandboys rip the paperoff 48 gifts and go
right back to beating each other on the
head with a couple of drumsticks. Real
ones, not the turkey kind. It's one of their
favorite games.
However, as the hired man said in.
Robert Frost's poem of that name, "Home
is where, when you go there, they have to
let you stay." And if looks as though that's
the way my daughter feels.
We tried to fill up the house with other
people. But my son is in Paraguay, one
brother and his wife in Costa Rica, the
other brother way up at James Bay.
So we're stuck with the kids, and I'll
be happy if I see the N ew Year without
being on my hands and knees.
With that wrapped up, there's nothing
left to do but send my best wishes for the
holiday season to all sorts of people,
through this column.
To my old friends in the newspaper
business: • hope you all got that big
Christmas issue out without being hospital-
ized with total exhaustion.
To my teaching colleagues everywhere:
hang In there; it's only six months until
June.
To the prime minister: dear Pierre, hope
that other turkey doesn't turn up and spoil
your Ohr;stmas.
To all the people to whom we used to
send Christmas cards: it's the th ought that
counts, and we think of you every six or
eight months.
To all those people who want a baby so
badly: hope you get twins twice in the next
two years.
To all those people who don't want a
baby at all: hope you don't get pregnant,
not even a little bit.
And to all the people who bother to read
this column at all,• Whether you agree Or
not, a merry, merry Christmas, with a
special thanks to those who Write. God
bless Us, one arid all.
LET US MAKE YOUR OLD FURNITURE
BETTER THAN NEW!
For a flee'It estimate and look at
our ne est samples of materials
CALL
COOKUPHOLSTERY
'"`put Dour Jphohtering tilisdi in Our timcis" Myth; Out
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Santa
Remembers
Southpaws
Many designers• are cre-
ating accessories and tools
for left handed people. In-
creasingly aware of the
problems southpaws en-
counter daily in a right
handed world, they've come
up with some special, new
items. Keep these, in mind,
for gifts . .. your left hand-
ed friends will love yqu!
Books are available for
"lefties" who want to learn
to knit, play the guitar or
become adept at calligra-
phy. There's even a book
just about southpaws!
You'll find special scissors,
left hknded jar and can
openers, pocket knives, ad-
dress books and brushes
for pet grooming, too!
The Legend oa
The Very Fim
Poinsettia
Have you ever seen
poinsettia? It's a beautiful
red flower with a yellov
center, that people like t
decorate with at Christmas
time.
There is a lovely legeiu
about how the poinsetth
came to be and it begins it
Mexico, a country that
just south of the Unite(
States.
There was a young boa
who was very sad one
Christmas Eve. You, see, it
his little town it was the
custom to offer gifts to the
Christ Child. People would
come to the church or
Christmas Eve and place
their gifts upon the altar,
But Manuelito, as we
shall call him, was very
poor. He had no gift to
bring before the Infant
Jesus.
Too shy to go inside the
church without a gift, he
knelt outside a window and
began to pray. We don't
know what Manuelito said,
but perhaps he was telling
the Holy' Infant how sorry
,he was that he did not have
a gift to offer.' For that is
what prayer is, you know;
talking to God.
As he rose to his feet, he
_noticed a beautiful red
flower growing in the very
spot where le had knelt,
Amazed, he bent down to
examine the flower. He had
never seen one like it
before.
Suddenly he realized that
this lovely flower was a gift
from heaven, an answer to
his prayer!
Joyfully, Manuelito
plucked the flower and car-
ried it inside, to lay before
the altar.
And that is why the poin-
settia is known as "The
Flower of the Holy Night"
in Mexico.
)4 I