HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1978-10-18, Page 2CNA 4,
Brussels Post
LEAVES CAN BE EITHER WORK OR PLAY — These boys found it was
a lot more fun to play among the leaves than it was to work at getting rid
of them. (Photo by Langlois)
Behind the scenes
About this time of year, reporters for
community newspaper are sniffing around
the town hall, trying to drum up a hot story
about the coming municipal elections.,
It's about as rewarding , as looking for
diamonds in the Arctic. All they conic up
with are pompous cliches, evasions, and
half-truths.
Almost invariably, the Mayor, unless he's
leen caught with hisliand in •the till, or been
:iiscovered in flagrante delicto in a motel
:com with somebody else's wife, is going to
an again.
"Yes; I believe 'I owe it to the people of our
Me town to carry out the many progressive
yrograms inaugurated during my years in
Translation: I like having my name in the
taper every week, and if those jackasses of
:ouncillors would Stop arguing with me, we
might be able to screw enough money out of
the government to start building that new
community centre, which will be called after
me:
Reeve Ditnlylit: "What we need in our fair
town is leadership at the top, something we
haven't been getting. Yes, I will probably be
a eandidate again for municipal office, but I
do not yet known in what capacity."
Translation: If that turkey, the Mayor, has
a heart attack, I'll go after his job. He gets
the chain of office, the cocktail parties, the
headlines. I want them,
Deputy-Reeve Duntly: “There seems to be
a strong ground-swell, among the voters, for
new blond at the. top, a vibrant leadership
that would Make Pokeville the thriving
community it could be. But I have not
decided yet. tet the people speak."
Translations If the Mayor makes a terrible
boo-boo; and the. Reeve succumbs to
Cirrhosis of the liver, Which he's working
hard at, I'll• go for the top, if I can find two
guys to nominate and second me.
Councillor WAS: "Yes, Well, as the
voters of Ward Four well knew, I have been
their ardent representative whenever their
best interests were at heart, and I know they
are behind me 100 per cent."
Translation:) voted against every improve-
ment in town, unless it was in Ward Four,
and I squeaked in the last time by four votes:-
Councillor Blank: "Well, I just don't know
whether I'll run again. The position takes a
terrible toll of your time and energy. I'd like
to spend more time with my family. But you
do feel a sense, of responsibility to keep.
Pokeville progressing."
Translation: Jeez, I only missed three
committee meetings last month. Holy,
Moses, if I'm turfed out, miss that $800 a
year, and I'll have to stay home with Gladys
and those rotten kids every night. Please,
Lord, don't let Joe Glutz run against me.
He'd wipe me out.
Councillor : Klutz: "I honestly haven't
decided yet. I have served the good people of
Ward Two for twenty-eight years, un-
stintingly, regardless of race, creed or color,
and I believe, with all due modesty, that 1
have served, them well. Look at the new
sewage line on pith St. Remember the
maples I had cut down to accommodate a
fine new service on 8th St. And don't forget
the modernization I brought to Ward Two: a
bather shop, two pizza parlors, and a
chicken palace. I, stand on my record. '
Translation: Some of those dang
munists ate still sore at me for cutting down
those 25 maple trees. Some a them others is
mad becatise they get pop cans and pizza
plates all over their front lawns, If anybody
runs against me! I'M dead: Otherwise, be
back on the band-wagon.
But we tnsut avoid being cynical, mustn't.
We? Those municipal politicians are more to
be pitied than Scorned. If they fail to be
elected, it's a serious blow to the ego. If they
Succeed ; they are stuck with two years of
mind-numbing meetings, and the constant
obloquy, of the public they serve:
' Unlike their brethen in :provincial and
(Continued on Page 3,
By Keith Roulston
I've come to the conclusion that there's
nothing funny about Monday morning.
I mean every Monday morning I sit down
in front of this battered old typewriter with
my battered old brain and say to myself: this
week I've got to come up with something
funny, something inspiringly funny. ' And
every week the troubles of the world creep in
again and some deadly dull column on the
falling dollar, the falling government or the
falling Canadian morale shows up on the
paper in front of me.
One remedy I know would be shut off the
radio and television and burn all the
newspapers as soon as they come in the
door. Let's face it,with the doom and gloom
that pours out of the media daily, even
hourly, it's pretty hard to be light and witty.
But even if the outside world didn't push it's
gloomy way in there'd still be little chance of
getting something humourous out of this
typewriter on a Monday morning. The
reason is just that: Monday morning.
I'm just not a morning person. My ideal
going to bed time is about 2 a.m. and my
ideal waking time is about 10 a.m. I function
best on that schedule. Unfortunately the
world isn't set up for that schedule. There
ate timetables to keep and in our household
that means getting up at 7 a.m. to get
breakfast so the youngsters can be ready to
catch the bus on time. Believe me I find
nothing funny about getting up these
mornings when it is still dark, outside. My
whole system tells me that this is unnatural.
My subconscious mind tells me that
somebody must have set that alarm clock
wrong last night Or that it has become
demonic possessed and is trying to terrorize
Us.
What, convinces me that it's indeed time to
get up, however, is our secondary alarm
clock: our three year old. He never fails no
matter how dark, it is out, no matter whether
elettricity has been off. You never have to
• wind him up or' check the alarm setting. He
automatically wakes up a few minutes before
seven every morning. ,And he tempts me to
child beating.
• You know there's so much work goes on
these days in high school guidance
departments and such agencies to try make
sure people pick the right career. But one of
the tests' they overlook is one of the Most
important in my Opinion to match the cateet
to the kind of sleeping habits you have.
Some people function better in the morning:
Some better at night. Trying to make a
morning person work evenings is like trying
to put a square peg in around hole. The poor
guy's Miserable and at the same titheiSn't
performing' at his peak, efficiency.
Now fief. 1 always loved being around
animals back when I was growing up on the
farm. I particularly liked the cows and felt
that dairy farming would be the most
rewarding form of farming. There can be a
real and lasting affection built up between a
farmer and his cows, not one of those
fleeting realationships where the idea is to
stuff the animals as full of feed in as' short a
time as possible so they can be shipped off to
market as quickly as possible. That is to a
dairy herd as a one-night stand is to a
rewarding 25 year marriage.
Anyway, the idea of being a farmer went
by the wayside because of one big factor:
economics. I just didn't see any possibility
that I'd ever get enough money to set up a
farm. Normally that would be a sad story but
in my case it was a blessing in disguise.
Can you, imagine me having to get up
every day of the week, every week of the
year at 4 or 5 a.m. to get out to milk the
cows. If I make it out of bed (and that's a
mighty big if) I'd be in such rotten humour
that the first cow that swished a cold damp
tail across my sleepy face would probably
wind up in hamburger patties in the freezer.
One of the worst summerjobs I ever had
back in the days when I was a student was a
construction job which called for me to be at
work everymorning at 7 a.m. (Who ever
invented 7 a.m. should the sent to the salt
mines of Siberia to start work at 3 a.m. every
morning.) Luckily the job didn't last long.
Oh not for my sake, for the sake of the
people we were building barns for. 1
probably created enough construction faults
in those buildings between 7 a.m. and my
time of becoming human at about 9:30 that
the buildings would collapse with the first
sign of wind.
One of the businesses that my own
metabolism seems suited for is my second
career of theatre. Now there's a civilized
time scale. You usually start rehearsals
about 10 a.m. which still might be an hour
too early but sure beats 7 a.m. You finish
work about 10:30 or 11 p.m. You can still
take a couple of hours to relax arid get to bed
at the ideal bedtime of 2 a.m.
Unfortuantely, however, even then one is
lucky enough to be working the hours that
suit him in theatre, the rest Of the world
doesn't stop making its own demands on
time. The kids still keep getting up at 7. The
buses still come early. The school bell still
goes at nine. And people telephone at 8:30
and thinkyou're the laziest slob in the
country if you're still in bed. It ends up that
you burn the candle from both ends; working
late and getting up early. It's the worst of
both worlds and you get jumpy and grumpy.
So if you think the world looks dull and
serious through this column, blame it on that
blaknety-blank alarm clock,
NUPE L3
ONTARIO
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1978
Serving Brussels and the surrounding community.
Published, each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean prosj'oblishrs Limited.
Evelyn Kennedy - Editor Pat Langlois - Advertising
Member Canadian Community Newspaper Association, and
Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association
Subscriptions (in advance) Canada $9,00,a Year,
Others $17.00 a Year. Single Copies 20 cents each.
eNA
A vote of confidence
Who says. small villages are dead?
Just about anyone will admit that there's more activity on the main
street of Brussels these days than there has been in several years.
Businesses are changing hands, businesses are opening . . an
excellent indication that the future of Brussels is bright.
A business gives local peciple a resounding vote of confidence when
it decides to open here. No prosperous enterprise would bother setting
up in a dying village. That's one reason that local people should be
happy to welcome Turnberry St.'s newest enterprise.
The other reason is the nature of that enterprise. Brussels has long
needed its own pharmacy. Older people who regularily need
prescription drugs, parents of young children who need drug store
services in an emergency . . .everybody in Brussels and area in fact
has felt the need of a pharmacy.
Thanks to more than a year of effort on the part of the Brussels
Business Association (and the energy and enthusiasm of that group is'
another indication of our village's economic health) we've now got one.
So, add your welcome. to Brussels' newest business and be ready to
prove otherwise the next time someone tells you that small villages are
dying.
Sugar and Spice
by Bill Smiley