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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Lucknow Sentinel, 1978-06-14, Page 4Page 4—Lucknow Sentinel, Wednesday, June 14, 1978 the Lucknow Sentinel LUCKNOW, ONTARIO "The Sepoy Town" On the Huron -Bruce Boundary Established 1873 - Published Wednesday eA Published by Signal -Star Publishing Ltd. Robert G. Shrier - president and publishes Sharon J. Dietz - editor Anthony N. Johnstone - advertising and general manager , Subscription rate, $10 per year in advance Senior Citizens rate, $8.00 per year in advance U.S.A. and Foreign, $14 per year in advance Business and Editorial Office Telephone 528-2822 Mailing Address P.O. Box 400, Lucknow NOG 2HO Second class mail registration number - 0847 Got a beef Sena a letter to the Editor There has been a gap on our editorial page lately. It is caused by a lack of letters to the editor. It is usually easier to talk about a viewpoint than to write it down. That's why editors and reporters are often told about an agreement or disagreement with a public action,an editorial viewpoint or a local controversy. It would be far more effective to write a letter to the editor. A simple, brief, straightforward letter to the editor, with your name signed to it, will often be more effective than another editorial on the subject by us. Letters to the editor can be informative, and sometimes they,serve to cast new Tight on a situation or offer an alternative solution. It is important that the editorial staff of this newspaper be aware of readers' opinions, ideas and observations. What better way to help solve a problem, support a viewpoint or make a constructive criticism, than writing a letter to the local newspaper. Sometimes during a bristling local contro- versy the editorial page can be as interesting as the front page that carries the scoop. It's the page that carries the reader's comments. And readers and editors alike, enjoy nothing more than a lively exchange of letters on a subject, as readers . who hold different viewpoints defend their position on the editorial page of the community newspaper. Next time you've got a beef, even if it is with this newspaper, put it in a letter, that we can print. It will get your point of view across and at the same time you may feel better after having written about it. Farmers market opens c4cree 0/ T9hmory BY D. A. CAMPBELL On first meeting, it was easy to misjudge the character of Angus. He appeared as a hard, grumpy old man, from whom strangers backed away instinctively. His conversa- tion was brief to all but his closest friends and relatives. I tried hard to prove myself worthy of his trust and confidence, but this was to take tact and infinite patience. Angus wanted little from this world except the right to work his land as his own master, and he was never envious of other men's wealth or status symbols. He was a man of noble principles, and believed that a people who expected to enjoy the benefits of a democratic society, must be prepared to fight for them. Behind thehard aggressive front he projected, was a kind, unselfish Personality, which I gradualfy uncovered with the passing of time. During World War II,, . ... Angus needed no prompting to join the Veteran's Guard. It must have galled him to be drilled by the inexperienced young men of the new brigade; but he endured the chiding arid harassment from the drill. instructors with tolerance - except for one occasion. It was bayonet practice! "You there," the spit and polished young Corporal yelled at Angus. "How many times do I have to tell you? Thrust the rifle forward to the full extent of the left arm. No, no, no - you're doing it all wrong!" . Angus lowered the weapon to his right side and struck. the ground with,the butt. He addressed the Corporal in a tone. of contempt, voice `high pitched and chin thrust forward in defiance. "You don't 'ave ter show me 'ow ter use 'er Sonny. When the time comes, I'll use 'er - by the jeeze I'll use 'er good. I done it, so I 'ave -'I done it for real!" He lowered his voice somewhat, extended his right arm and shook the rifle at the young man as it to emphasize his point. "I'm still alive ain't I?" No doubt, Angus could have related many stories to add to my acres of memory, but he rarely talked about his personal experiences. One day however, I did get a small glimpse into his past. It was late in the afternoon and I was talking to a correspondent (now a famous Canadian novelist), at the office of the "Grunt and Thunder". Suddenly, Angus threw open the door and without any apology for his unexpected intrusion, cut right through the conversation. "Don! Gimme a lift 'ome when you're through - I'll be in the beverage room!" The door slammed and he was gone. "Who - was - that?" the correspondent asked in amazement. "That", I said, "was the most unusual personality you are ever likely to see. That was Angus!" At five o'clock, after persuading,, the worn out engine of ' my '39 Dodge back to life, I drove around to the Redtrees Hotel. The hotel was 'not exactly an architectural masterpiece. Its foundations were inadequate for its support, and it leaned . back from the street like a cardboard box pushed at an angle. Had it been constructed of masonry, it would have collapsed long ago. The wooden sided front was warmed by the afternoon sun and provided a convenient gathering place for the local loafers - too poor to go inside, and just too darned nosey to miss a trick! I could guess what they said when they .saw me arrive. "Here comes that Limey newspaper feller - figured 'im to be a bit of a boozer!" I left the engine running, afraid to switch it off in case it died on me for good. A peculiar odour met me at the entrance to the beverage room - a mixture of beer, tobacco smoke and the eternal smell of the barn. I poked my head around the dpor, afraid to enter that alcoholic den, in case I should become involved in a liars forum. If Angus was aware of my presence, it was of little consequence to ;hi, at that moment. He was listening intently ! o 4 weasel-faced..stranger, ..who had stoppecl"igff at theiYhniel his may through town,.. to refuel his imagination, L It was obvious that " Angus was infuriated by the stranger's bombastic stories. As if to draw attention to his anger, he took quick, frequent gulps from a bottle of ale, setting it down heavily on the table after each swallow. "Yep!" - I seen it all," said Weasel Face. "Somme, Ypres an' Vimy Ridge - yeah, that was some battle - I ain't never gonna forgit that one." "Seems like yer don't need much remindin'," Angus shouted, crashing the bottle down again. "What Regiment did yer say yer were with?" "Caledonian' Scottish - Second Battalion - "B" Company." "Your full o' horse shoot," said Angus, but Weasel Face ignored him and continued. "Mind you - it were tough at Ypres, but I ain't never gonna forgit..." "Horse shoot," . Angus almost screamed. He grasped the table top with both hands and forced his rheumatic legs to support his weight. Lurching towards the offender he dug a finger into the man's ribs. "You never seen the Caledonian Scottish - they weren't " never in the line at Ypres. I was "B" Company's C.S.M. an' I made it my business to know every man - personally." He poked Weasel Face several more times in the ribs. "I wouldn't forget a face like yours if it were in my outfit. By the jeeze, you're ugly - real ugly. I'd better leave before I make that mug of yours more 'orrible than what it is right now!" We rattled and bumped our way back to the Hungry Hundred and Angus didn't say another word until we were both out of the car. "That sonnovawitch - bet 'e never left Canada in 'is life," he said, more to himself than to me. Then suddenly his brown, bearded face broke into a broad grin. "Maybe •'e should 'ave gone with the rest of us = with a face like that, he woulda scared the sugar out of Kaiser Bill!"