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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1978-12-20, Page 27PLAQUE PRESENTATION — Howard Bernard presented a plaque from the Brussels Business Association ,to George and Aileen Mutter at the BBA's Christmas Dinner and Dance. The Mutters retired from running an oil business in town last year. About 160 people attended the dinner and (Photo by Langlois) dance. .<.-2(-? s P - 5ai-JcA r)Pc (77 43, loig4r\ok 9 00.) ir wocA(d lit\e (A- S -01'2 er 5-1-60-- omol'a 3(A r-1 Q C i fse aol; y oU Sotaat C1cAv,5I -)d cihotiple_ c. .R4 Matt C•1*'61. <4 Wel l o0 1-eS jail. LAri..sPbert.SP il ri e ry au ind r i Tly I a v * I w) ei latoit your .ra;ndeer„ carroL r lery k—r)ri Ar id e -Y5 1.01- C:j:Elf) 4(>44: iiffr «. THE BRUSSELS POST, DECEMBER 20, 1978, 27 • Sugar and spice. By Bill Smiley December is too sudden investigate and find that one of the basement windows has been blown in and has smashed on the woodpile, You clamber up over the wood, knocking pieces off shins and knuckles, and jam some cardboard in the gap. Creep cautiously outside, and nearly bust your bum. There's ice under that thar snow. Make it to the garage, and find that your car doors are all frozen solid shut. 'Beat them with your bare fists until the latter are bleeding and your car is full of dents. Finally get them open with a bucket of hot water and a barrel of hotter language. Slither and grease your way to Work, arriving in a foul mood and with bare hands crippled into claws, bootless feet cold as a witch's other appendage. Come out of work to go home and find a half-inch of frozen rain and snow covering- your car, and no sign of your scraper, and another deep dent where some idiot slid into your car door on the parking lot. I could go on and on, but it's only rubbing salt in the wounds of the average Canadian. Get home from work and find that the furnace is on the blink, and the repairman is tied up for the next two days. And your wife is also fit to be tied up over your dilatoriness. . Surely there is some way around this' suddeness of December. Is there not some far-seeing politician (if that is not • a contradiction in terms), who would introduce a bill to provide for an extra month between; let's say, November 25th and December 5th. I wouldn't care what he called it. It could be Lastember, referring to your fast-dying hope that there wouldnt be a winter this year. Or Last Call, or Final Warning, or She's Acomin! Anything that gave us a good jolt. It would be a good thing for merchants. They could have special Lastember sale of gloves and,boots and snow tires and ear muffs and caulking guns and weather stripping and antifreeze and nose warmers, before plunging into their "pre-Christmas sales, which are promptly replaced by their January sales, ' It would be great for the Post Office, which could start warning us in June that all Christmas mail must be posted by the first day of Lastember if we wanted it delivered before the following June. It would make anice talking point for all those deserters and traitors and rich people who go south every year. Instead of • smirking, "Oh, we're not going south until Boxing Day. Hate to miss an old-fashioned, Canadian Christmas," they could really shove it to us by learing, "Yes, we thought we'd wait this year until the last day of Lastember, you know. Avoid the pushing and vulgarity of the holiday rush. If nothing else, it would give us a break from the massive nauseating volume of pre-Christmas advertising, which begins toward the end of October and continues, remorselessly, right into ChriStmas Day. Best of all, perhaps it would give dummies like me a chance to avoid looking like such 'a dummy. Procrastinators, who , flourish during a sunny November, such as we had this year, would have no more excuses. All their wives would have to do is point to the 'calendar and say, "Bill, do you realize it's only three days until Lastember. Isn't it time you did your Lastember chores?" In fact, if that fearless politician who is going to introduce the Lastember Bill in the house wants some advice, here is a codicil for him. Somewhere in the Bill should be the warning, in bold type: "Procrastinators will be Prosecuted!" Jeez, why not? They prosecute you for everything else, If such a month were added to the calendar — Maybe we could start it with Grey Cup Day -- people like me wouldn't go on thinking that Christmas is weeks away. Instead, on the last day of Lastember, with all their winter chores in hand, -they'd know that Christmas was practically oh top of them, like a big, old horse blanket, and they'd leap into the proper spirit, lining up a' Christmas tree, laying In their booze, tuning up their pipes for the carols. As it is now; we know that Chrittmas is like a mirage. It's way off their sornewhere, and nd need to panic. Then, with that startling Suddeness i its Decetnber 22nd i All the ehristMas trees have been bought, the only remaining turkeys look like vultures, and the liquor store is bedlant. Who's for a Lastember? December is a trying time. For one thing, it's so dang sudden. There you are, tottering along a day at a time, Thinking it's still fall and you must get the 'snow tires and storms on one of these fine Saturdays, and throw some firewood into the cellar, and get some boots and replace the gloves you lost last March. Christmas is away off there. And then — bang! — you look out one morning, and there's December, in all it's unglory: a bitter east wind driving snow, and a cold chill settle's in the very bones of your soul. Winter wind as sharp as a witch's tooth sneaks in around uncaulked doors and windows. Your wife complains of the terrible draught from under the basement door. You