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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1983-11-16, Page 20Poge 4A
Times -Advocate, November 16, 1983
MR. AND MRS. JEFFREY BUTSON
Janice Ann Campbell and Jeffrey Frederick Butson were
united in marriage November 5, 1983 at Hensall
Presbyterian Church with Rev. Kenneth Knight and Rev.
Stanley McDonald officioting. The bride is the daughter
of Bessie Campbell and the late Lloyd Campbell, RR 1
Exeter and Jack and Wilma Butson, RR 2, Staffa are
parents of the groom. The maid of honour was Karen
Cottle and bridesmaids were Rae Young, Jayne Con-
sitt and Kim Dobson. The best man was Brian Miller and
guests were ushered by John Hamilton, David Camp-
bell and James Butson. Flower girls were Lori Lynn
Gould and Leann Consitt and the organist was Mrs.
Joan Keys. After a wedding trip to Florida, the couple
has taken up residence at RR 2, Staff°.
Photo by Frank Phillips
S1 andra's
itting
Lervice
for a
Mother's
Day Out
- go shopping
- working
- or just need
a break
Phone 262-5350
Two events
are planned
for Staffa
At a recent meeting of the
South Ilibbert Athletic Socie-
ty, it was decided to hold a
family dance at the Dublin
Community Centre•.
November 26 with music by
Free Wheeling.
The first class for
rugbraiding by the Staffa
Womens Institute was held at
the home of Mrs. Carter
Kerslake November 2 with
nine ladies present.
Mrs. Kerslake and Mrs.
Jack Burchill are leading the
course.
'Uh{ luck doom
UNISEX HAIRSTYLINGS
For The Entire Family
423 Main Street, Exeter, Ont., NOM ISO
235-0451
Even if years add up, it's good to be alive
Just had another birthday
and it's left me wondering
just where I stand on the
chronological scale. Can it be
possible I've reached that
golden (?) realm of old age?
It probably depends where
you're standing when you
look at me because my
100 -year old friend, Olive,
assures me I'm still 'very
young', while my grand-
children know I'm really
old'.
Whatc : er I am,
sometimes I'm not sure I like
it.
It seems like just yesterday
I was telling everyone what
year I was born in. Now, when
I have to fill in my age, like at
the hospital, the other day,
I'm tempted to lie.
It's funny, though for once
you reach a certain age, you
like to brag about it. "Would
you believe I'm 78" demand-
ed a gentleman of me lately.
"No!" I feigned astonish-
ment (I thought he was
older) .
"Yessiree, I was 78 in
August", he chortled proudly
thinking he had really pulled
a fast one on me.
As birthdays have come
and gone, for me, there is on-
ly one that stands out in my
mind...my eighth. Up until
then, I had never had a birth-
day party. Oh, there might
have been candles on a cake
for supper, but never a real
party.
Planning to
change name
At the annual meeting of
the Ontario Heart Foundation
the members confirmed a
special resolution authorizing
the Foundation to apply for
supplementary letters patent
to change the name of the
Foundation to Heart and
Stroke Foundation of Ontario.
The special resolution
culminated a year-long study
of the Foundation by a
Strategi : Planning Commit-
te and from recommenda-
tions submitted to the Board
by this committee.
In 1974, the Ontario Heart
Foundation accepted the
responsibility to financially
support stroke research in
Ortario and since that time
has expanded its commit-
ment more fully and to ce-
ment this connection to the
Heart Foundation in the
minds of the people, the name
change was deemed to be a
more appropriate presenta-
tion of the mandate of the
Foundation to provide fun-
ding appropriate for research
and education to reduce death
and disability, from car-
diovascular and
c'rebrovascular disease.
Application for supplemen-
tary letters patent is current-
ly being processed to
facilitate a legal name change
and the official date of change
will be announced at a later
date.
and other special gift items
404 Edward St., Exeter
1
1
•
When I timidly broached
the subject to Mother, Dad
listening in the background, ,
hit on a superlative idea.
"There's that straw stack in
the north field we could
burn," he suggested with a
Since my birthday is in late
fall, it was on a clear, but
moonless frosty night that we
congregated in the middle of
a 100 acre field around the
straw stack. All the
neighbours had been invited...
It seems
to me...
by Gwyn Whilsmith
twinkle.
Burn a straw stack for my
birthday! I couldn't believe
my luck.
Back in those days, on the
prairies, grain was cut close
to the ground by binders and
separated by threshing
machines. The shiny kernels
flowed into golden pyramids
while the straw was puffed
out into huge, yellow stacks.
When there was more straw
than the farmer could use, it
was often sent up in flames,
making a stupendous bonfire
that could be seen for miles.
moms, dads and children of
all ages, two school chums,
my teacher, the minister and
his family, and two ancient
bachelors whom everyone in-
vited to everything. Sheer,
unadulterated pleasure puls-
ed through my small, shiver-
ing frame.
Some of the straw was pull-
ed back from the stack and
set on fire to give light and
warmth for the adults, who
clustered round, joshing and
rubbing their hands over the
heat. We children didn't need
anything to keep us warm. By
the light of the small fire, and
in dark, changing shadows,
we climbed up the soft moun-
tain, sinking to our knees.
Over and over again we
tumbled down its glossy sides
amid squeals and flailing
arms and legs. The scratchy
straw, pushing down our
necks and sticking in our hair
and ears didn't deter the fun
for a moment.
Just when we were beginn-
ing to steam and reach ex-
haustion, the adults called us
off the stack for the main
event. Taking a shovel of bur-
ning straw from the small
fire, Dad skirted the stack,
setting it ablaze in several
places. Because it was loose
and dry, it became, at once,
a towering blazing inferno,
flaring high into the dark
night, glowing sparks and
white smoke spiralling to
meet the stars.
We stood, spellbound, as the
brilliant, leaping flames turn-
ed night into day, pushing us
back with searing heat, bur-
ning inside the cone -shape of
the stack until it, eventually,
collapsed into a dark red,
heaving mass of coals, the
pungent smell of smoke thick
in our nostrils.
Meanwhile, Mother un-
packed the lunch, and we sat
on blankets, close enough to
feel the warmth but not so
close as to get scortched, and
wolfed down thick eg^ sand-
wiches with cups of steaming
cocoa, carried from the house
in thermoses. A huge
chocolate cake appeared, its
eight tiny trembling candles
dwarfed against the giant
bonfire. Dad scooped it into
our bare hands, and we lick-
ed the sticky sweet icing off
our fingers while our dreamy
eyes reflected the fire.
Earl, one of the neighbours,
took out his mouth organ and
haunted the night with plain-
tive cowboy/melodies. As the
last bittersweet glow of the
fire receded, parents prodded
reluctant children off
blankets to head them,
trance -like, for home.
There's never been a party
since that could touch it, and
in comparison this last birth-
day passed me by very
quietly.
Nevertheless, even if the
years are adding up, it seems
to me it's still very good to be
alive and able to celebrate.
MR. AND MRS. ROBERT DRUMMOND
On November 4, 1983 at Our Lady of Mount Carmel
Church at Mount Carmel, Melanie Ann and Robert
James Albert Drummond exchanged wedding vows
with Father Joseph Nelligan officiating. The bride is the
daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Norman Hackney and the
groom is the son of Mrs. Grace Drummond. oh of Ex-
eter. Attendants were Margaret Hackney, sister of the
bride and Randy Evans, a friend of the groom. Guests
were ushered by Peter Dianouczki and the soloist was
Homer Pallet. After a honeymoon trip to Barbados, the
couple will be residing in Exeter at 11 Ki►,gscourt Cr.
There will be an open reception on November 25. 1983.
For information phone 235-0803 or 235-2535
Photo by Frank Phillips
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SWART MAN'S OF EXETER
386 Main Street, Exeter
Phone 235-099