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The Wingham Advance-Times, 1966-10-13, Page 9THIS WAS THE Literary Society of Wingham High School in 1913. First row: John Dixon, Gladys Spindler, Nora Smith, G. Robinson, Chrissie Miller, Oneida Irwin; second row: William Buchanan, George Muir, Artie Shaw, presi- dent; Mr. Frank Buchanan, honorary president; Lillian Edgar, 1st vice-president; S. Donaldson, 2nd vice-presi- dent; Peter Muir, treasurer; third row: Alex Henry, Constance Brewster, B.A., teacher; George R. Smith, B.A.; Adam McBurney, J. C. Smith, B.A., principal; Beatrice E. Anderson, teacher; H. A. Percy, teacher; fourth row: Tom Armstrong, James H. Currie, Ernest Linklater, Eddie Helps. bbancsoCinte Scouts Get A Fresh Start It was a relief to hear that Tom Rus- sell had agreed to take over the leader- ship of the local Boy Scout Troop. A few weeks ago this newspaper pointed out the possibility that Scouting in Wingham could come to an abrupt halt unless com- petent leadership was located at once. Mr. Russell has given a good deal of time to Scouting in past years and we know that he is an extremely able boys' leader. Murry Fridenburg, who was forced to relinquish the Scoutmaster's post after devoted service to both Scouts and Cubs, will act as Mr. Russell's assistant, so it is evident that excellent leadership for the Troop will be provided. Leadership, or more particularly the lack of it, is the greatest hazard which faces Scouting. There is never any short- age of boys but the possibility of running short of leaders is ever present. It is to be hoped that some of the younger men who have graduated from the ranks of the Scouts can be persuaded to continue in the movement as assistants, and so pro- vide material for future leadership. Scout- ing is much too important to this com- munity to be endangered as it has been for the past few months. National Leadership in Question Although the policy conference of the Liberal party in Ottawa this week accord- ed Prime Minister Pearson a vote of con- fidence as leader of that party, the vote came after some serious soul-searching by leading Liberals across the land. Mr. Pearson himself acknowledged the reality of the threat when he spoke, from the platform, of his approval of a plan to re- view the question of party leadership at least every two years. Dissension about the leadership of John Diefenbaker in the ranks of the Pro- gressive Conservative party is even more outspoken. No less a personage than Dalton Camp, president of the national PC association, has stated that it is time to throw the question of leadership be- fore a national party convention. This air of distrust in national politi- cal leaders is something new in Canadian politics. Until fairly recently the ques- tion of leadership was never openly dis- cussed. If a new leader was to be chosen the matter was always talked over by the top party brass behind closed and doubly- barred doors before it was made known to the public. Then the old chief would gracefully announce his intention to retire amid the regrets of his stalwart followers and a new and usually hand-picked suc- cessor would rise to the unanimous ac- cl,aim of his fellows. The open restlessness which pervades even the upper brackets of the old-line political parties, may be a sign of the times . . . an indication of the fast pace at which all the old establishment is giv- ing away to the new. More likely, how- ever, is the probability that the petty squabbling which has occupied so much of Parliament's time for the past three or four years has begun to pall upon the Members who have been forced to sit through it all. There are some dull time-servers among the men who are elected to repre- sent the Canadian voters, but on the broad average they are sensible, conscien- tious people, who must, by this time, be utterly fed up with the childish quarrels which have beclouded the real issues of the day and have created endless delay in the settlement of Canada's more serious problems. The urge for new leadership most likely springs from an earnest desire to find men who are big enough to forego petty political advantage and think of the nation as the most important business in their public lives. The rest of us who stay at home and read about these things certainly hope they succeed in their search. THE WINGHAM ADVANCE - TIMES Published at Wingham, Ontario, by Wenger Bros. Limited. W. Barry Wenger, President - Robert 0. Wenger„ Secretary-Treasurer Member Audit Bureau of Circulation Member Canadian Weekly Newspapers Association. Authorized by the Post Office Department as Second Class Mail and for payment of postage In cash. Subscription Rate: 1 year, $5.00; 6 months, $2.75 in advance: U.S.A., $7.00 per yr.; Foreign rate, $7.00 per yr. Advertising Rates on application. SU AND SPICE . by 001.- SOUley It's time to be outdoors Because the International Plowing Match is taking place so close to us this year, thousands who have never before attended this event will do so at least once this week. It's a pretty safe bet that the vastness of the International will leave the first-timers staggered. There are few events, anywhere, which attract so many people in such a short space of time. The gathering of thousands upon thousands of spectators for a trial of purely agricultural skills, is a revealing testament to the continuing importance of the farmer's role in modern society. The International, like the many agri- cultural fairs, emphasizes the fact that skill, experience and investment must be After watching the television corn mercials which have been aired for sev- eral months in an effort to promote in- terest in centennial projects, Canadian municipalities could scarcely be blamed for originating some very foolish schemes. The federal government set aside a fund of about $100 million to be paid out in the form of grants to township, towns and cities where approved centennial pro- jects were undertaken. In order to arouse interest in such centennial programs a series of commer- cials has been appearing on television screens, Unfortunately these commer- cials serve only to convey the idea that a centennial project must be idiotic. One of them shows a gentleman and combined if a farming occupation is to be successful. Looking down a long, straight furrow, as the sod rolled smoothly from the mouldboard of a plow, we were impress- ed by the thought that surely this plow- ing match would do a great deal more for farm economy than all the strikes and tractor demonstrations that could pos- sibly be organized, It may be true that farmers, as a class, have been too hestitant about de- manding a just return for their labor. Nevertheless it is a good idea for every one of us to ponder, no matter how brief- ly, our dependence upon the talents and labors of our farming neighbors. We owe them a tremendous obligation. his butler busily filling a swimming pool with maple syrup into which the master plunges, fully clothed. Another inspiring episode portrays the gallant efforts of a couple of musicians in formal attire as they lug their instruments to the top of a mountain peak for a solemn concert in the wilds. There are several other commercials in the same vein — all equally inane. How stupid are Canadians supposed to be? Surely we are not a nation of silly children. And why in the world should we be urged to do anything at all about Canada's 100th birthday if the pro- jects at=e not serious and of some real worth to ourselves and our children? A Testament to Farmers Everywhere Silly Publicity Wingham, Ontario, Oct. 13, 1966 SECOND SECTION This is a time of year when there should be 24 hours of day- light, when a man should be able to keep going 24 hours a day, and every man should be on a month's vacation, Think of that fishing. Bass, muskies, pike and rainbow trout, just lying around there drooling, wishing somebody would toss them a lure. With the water so cold, their flesh makes chicken taste like dess- icated rubber. In the bogs the ducks chuckle and in the bush the partridge chortle. Whether it's a bitter morning crouched in a blind, or a stealthy stroll down a sun-fil- tered wooded road, everything beckons the hunter. And there's the golf course. A crisp day, the turf like velvet, and all the tourists and women out of the way at last. Nothing to distract. Fat bottoms in Ber- muda shorts are replaced by plump black squirrels intent on filling the larder with acorns. And everywhere there's sky as blue as a virgin's veins, blue- black water welcoming, butter- golden sun and blazing bush to delight the eye and uplift the soul. Every orange-blooded Cana- dian, from the most venerable of bird-watchers to the Grade Four tyke who must make a leaf collection, yearns to be out in the most wonderful country in the world in the most wonderful time of the year, in the most wonderful life that any of us will ever have. And what are we all doing? We're behaving like typical Canadians. We recognize the beauty, the allure of autumn, but we do nothing about it. If we're youngsters, we go to stupid school. If we're oldsters, we rake the ruddy leaves. Or we worry about the silly storm win- dows. Or we go to idiotic meet- ings to exchange inanities. Or we trudge off to some ridiculous job in order to put food in our mouths and oil in the tank. Just because it's fall and all these asinine activities arc back with us, It's not only unintelligent. It's unfair, unpatriotic, unscrupu- lous, unreligious and unbeliev- able. For years I have longed for a holiday in the fall. And for years I have been denied it be- cause of the incredibly insane social structure in this country, which decrees that you have holidays in the summer, or, if you can afford it, an equivalent hot-holiday in winter, down south. Who wants holidays in the summer? With long evenings and weekends, we can fish, swim, boat to our hearts' con- tenth And with the up-coming Sept. 8, 1966, Brussels, Belgium. Left Louvain at 8.56 a.m. Arrived at Brussels station in no time it seemed. Trains run fast. The roadbed is rough and passengers are well shaken. Went back to Limborg Hotel and the same room. Then on tour to Waterloo. Had a guide who spoke good English. For a change I could understand what was being said. His mother Scotch, his wife English-Can- adian. He has a daughter in Toronto, and is going to send his wife and son to Canada next year and has requested me to take them to the Exposition. We drove past the site of the 1958 World's Fair. Saw the King's palace, and drove through a state forest nine miles long. Belgium is very beautiful, re- sembles the south of England. Many trees and flowers, and everywhere green grass and shrubbery as the summer has been a wet one. Poor weather for farmers trying to get their work done. A great deal of harvesting still to be done. Since I have been here weather has been good. Sunny and pleasant. The potato crop is being harvested. Combines and balers in operation though much four-day work-week, there'll be even more time. But we're stuck with an ar- chaic system that seems to be tied to the school year. On La- bor Day, we all go back to the plough, and spend the most glo- rious weeks of the year at mun- dane, monotonous chores. Not for us the gold and blue of autumn days at our myriad. lakes, the wild fire of sumach on the hills, the honk of wild geese flying, the wood fire's warmth on a cool evening. Now, after Labor Day, we don sober garb and pious mien, crawl back into our huts and be- gin once again the pretence that life is real and earnest. It's just as well they're not planning to make me Minister of Education. If they did, there'd be a month's holiday in June, school through July and August (until one p.m. every day) and six week's holiday be- ginning Labor Day. Don't worry. It will never happen in this country. It's much too sensible. work is still done with horse power. Interesting to see the different ways of doing the farm work. Some are modern but there is still a great many using the older methods. The small holdings are divided into plots and strips and are cultivated intensively for grain and root crops. At Waterloo I see again the Panorama building as in 1919; the painting of the battle scene thirteen feet high. It appears to be covering an area of 100 acres. A marvelous portrayal. Behind the Panorama Building is the Commemoration Mound an monument of the British Lion. The Mound was built by Bel- gian women, carrying the earth in paskets. There are 264 steps I did not climb them. Expect t• go to Holland tomorrow. Sept. 12, 1966, Brussels, Belgium. Yesterday went on an all- day tour of Holland. Com- menced at 7 a.m. and returned at 8.45 p.m. Cost $10.00 American converted to Dutch guilders. We went by way of Ghent and Antwerpt in Belgiu Main roads very good. Drove around Ghent by the cathedral and port but did not stop. An- twerpt is the largest port. Stop- A Flag or a Rag? Dear Sir: Is there a more lovely and heart-warming sight than our beautiful Canadian flag, flut- tering in the wind? The spark- ling white flag with its deep red maple leaf and borders against a clear blue sky. Aren't we proud of our Canadian flag? Didn't we have to fight enough for our Canadian flag? Why do we then treat it like a rag? When you drive along the highway or roads you can often. too often, see a flagpole with a windtom, sunbleached, dirty rag blowing in the wind, that once resembled our proud, beautiful, honoured Canadian flag. Every time I see these rags I cry in my heart and feel ashamed of my countrymen that cannot have more respect for their flag and country. Yours truly, Margareta Heim. ped for coffee before crossing Dutch border. Entrance all ar- ranged by tour company. The countryside productive and prosperous looking. Pasture lands predominant with herds of holsteins and brown Swiss cows. The fields here larger, very level and bordered with ditches. Many farm tractors in evidence though not working as it was Sunday with the excep- tion of those we noticed later in the day hauling feed for the herds and operating milking machines. Milking is done out- side. Quite a few horses still being used. All Belgians, hand- some and in good condition. I saw a team in Brussels today hitched to a large van, munch- ing their oats out of a nose bag. They looked out of place amidst the maze of modern traf- fic. Sept. 12, 1966 Brussels, Belgium. Continuing on our tour of Holland we finally drove through Boom, the sawmill town where they cut up the logs from the Black Forest in Ger- many. Interesting, as I had driven through the Black Forest last week. On to Amsterdam, the port city of Holland and the Please Turn to Page Three Travel Notes from J. H. Currie