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The Seaforth News, 1955-12-08, Page 3rotato growers, both north and south of the Border, con- tinually lament the i'act that toiks nowadays don't eat as many "spuds" as they used to do a few years ago., Dieting to keep the weight and waist -line down is generally blamed for this sad condition, but there are a good many who believe that the real reason is that potatoes, although vastly improved in appearance, simply do not taste as well as their predecessors. My meaning will be made clear- er by this dispatch by John Gould to The Christian Science Monitor, written from the State of Maine, one of the greatest potato -growing areas in the United States. 5 5 5 The lady made quite a rash remark, for these parts. She said, "My goodness, if I could only get a decent potato, even if it was Idaho, I'd cheer and carry on . . Such a remark certainly requires sympathetic analysie. With Maine full of potatoes, and the market de- pressed, and the farmers like- wise, the high treason of the re- mark mustn't be lightly con- strued, 5 5 5 Yet it's a reasonable remark. I am reading a report by I he 'United States Department of Agriculture which tells about the government development of 40 new potato varieties in the past 20 years, It also says that by 1973 the average yield per acre will go from the present 250 to 300 or more bushels. This news is imparted with a note of jubilance over the obvious ac- hievement. Yet last winter Sec- retary' Benson told the Maine pOtatO gr Ow e r s they were crowding the market, that they should plant fewer acres, con- tentrate On selling, and work toward quality. They didn't pay any attention, of course, but most of them know he was right. 5 * With potatoes plentiful, why does said lady lament? When I was a lad we had two „irm.,N4,015A," kweepse'-e-e 4'4 4-4 QUEENLY LOOK - Picture of regal beauty is Queen Eliza- beth H on a recent night out in London. She was attending a benefit performance at Vic- toria Palace. kinds of potatoes we grew, One was the Early Rose, and we'd have them big enough to eat by the Fourth of July. The other was the Green Mountain which carne along in the fall and went into the cellar and to market: Unless he's been there, nobody knows the unequaled excellence of the Early Rose potato -we liked to cook the little new ones right in with the green peas, with a small chunk of salt pork assisting. It was a haymaker's delight. The Early Rose, burst- ing its pink jacket with mealy, mellow goodness, was tops. But commercially it is a lost cause. * My grandfather used to dig a wheelbarrow full every morn- ing, wheel it to the kitchen door, and Grandmother would pick out in her apron what she need- ed for the day's supply. Then he'd wheel what was left over and dump them to the pigs. Then in the fall the Green Mountains would get harvested and. the only Early Rose we stored would be seed for the next year. 4( * When the USDA began its re- search 20 years ago and turned out 40 new varieties, they com- promised the standards. The po- tatoes they produced were "bet- ter" -but what did they mean by better? They resisted blight and bugs, they yielded more per acre, they ripened sooner, they kept better in storage, they looked smoother, they shipped better, and they did several other wonderful things. They also left milady wistfully long- ing for a good old potato, * * A friend of mine has a bro- ther who farms a few hillsides in Aroostook County, the potato empire, and he was up there on a visit one fall just as the dig- ging started. The hillsides were busy. Great lumbering ma- chines were rolling the potatoes out of the ground. Swarms of pickers were gathering them into barrels. Flat trucks that hold 40 barrels, with derricks, were speeding the harvest to the bins. There were mountains of potatoes. My friend said to his brother, "Looks like a good chance for me to lay in my win- ter potatoes:" "Sure thing," said the brother. "The hoe's in the garage." "Hoe?" "Eyuh, We ought to have one of them potato rakes, like a clam hoe, but we never bother- ed to get dne. We use a hoe." "But what do you use a hoe for when you've got all that ma- chinery?" The brother laughed. "We don't eat those potatoes -those are for market and soed to go to Idaho and Florida and Long Island. We eat Green Moun- tains. The outside row, - along the road, is Green Mountains. You got to dig them by hand." * * So my friend got the hoe, and he had to walk a long way, be- cause the farm ,family had al- ready eaten abolir three quar- ters of a mile OSi GA.en lVfoun- tains, and he dug three grain bags full and then went with his automobile to get them, Of course they were wonderful po- tatoes. So you've got to ponder on the curious industrial cus- toms of the modern farmer, who grows hundreds of acres -of pota- toes to sell to the unwitting public, but plants some good potatoes for himself. * * Nowadays we. hear of Katah- CROSSWORD PUZZLE MID Ogg 1, Auto 4, Winglike 2. Sweetsoo 2. Illxint 111, CI eangin g agent 15. int:, 17. 2,0 -way or 13. As tar, as 10. Object 20. implore 2.1. Eau nt 01. Silence CI, Worthle,.s dog 25. Panel 20, 1./er0nye* 27. Wealthy 20, Concerning 20, winnow 01, Openwork fabric 82, Itizzcianiatioll 34, Tench SI. Stitch 87..klit hard 09. Rather [Ilan 40, Cm 41 Misery 42, Insect 43, Sp mu. 44, Dike 43, Illuminated At. Painter 49. liome 52. Beyerag. 62, Vali 04, Be fond 05. 'Dark shrilly DOWN 1. Public vehinle 1. Constellation 2. Tell 4. Ilusbnnd 03 Eve 5. Cuitled 6, Near 7. A wa 0. Turkish 111 1* U. Symbol for t 00. no 19. rocky 14. 00 ill t 16. Decline 20. Bitten It 21.1.1nexpl0ded shell ." Deface 22. Shoshonean Indian 24. l'iapPY 21. 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Mary Pickford 1918 Lillian Gish 1912 - - HarOld Lloyd 1921 Richard Barthelmess 1921 "GEORGE" WINNERS - These famous stars of the silent screen are among 20 winners of the first "George" award for "Distin- guished contribution to the art of motion pictures, 1915-1925." The awards were made at the First Festival of Film Artists. The winners were selected by the persons they worked' with during their film days. The festival is sponsored by the George Eastman House of Photography. The award, named for George Eastman, is a medal bearing his likeness, set in an eight -inch block of transparent plastic. u. dins, Kennebecs. Chippewas, Ontarios, Sebago s, Houmas (pronounced Homers) and Cherokees; and other 33 others of like stripe, and the horizon is obscured with an excess crop, and we have a little woman plaintively longing for a good potato. You name a blight or a bug and we've got a potato that will lick it. You propose a trade difficulty, and we've got a po- tato that takes care of it. The Colorado Beetle has been licked, we are up to 275 bushels to the acre, we keep making new va- rieties to plant -and we --sit sit around remembering how real potatoes looked when you burst the jacket and laid on a cut of butter. By 1973, they tell us, it will be even more so, * * It is an interesting develop- ment. Of course, a lot of modern people tell you they're satisfied with this or that potato. In fact I've tried new kinds myself and opined they were pretty good. The Kennebec is about as good as any, and has won many friends. But most of that is by comparison with other modern kinds, and it still a long distance from what I'd 'call top-notch. Skin -Diving Off The Coast of Kona Our outrigger lies like a dark arrow on the sunlit bay. -We are in tropic waters which dance and dazzle on the sur - surface, gleaming turquoise over sand, cobalt over coral, and gun-metal over lava out- croppings. Farther out, the pur- ple patches mean cloud sha- dows, and on the horizon a tum- ultuous pile of pearly clouds hide volcano Haleakala and its island Maui. Looking down over the side of the narrow boat, there are thirty feet of pure salt sea water between us and the bot- tom. It is this lambent world of fantastic colors, shapes, and tex- tures that we will penetrate. For we are after coral. Two of us dive from the outrigger; an- other surface -dives. Wearing rubber flippers and glass face masks, we each are on our own. Fifteen feet below the sur- face rises a lava shelf shaped like an anvil, startlingly black against the white sand bottom. Around this dart and dance brightly -colored reef fish. I plummet down. Then, grasp- ing the lava anvil with both hands to steady myself against the strong coastwise current, lie still, outstretched, a few moments. Tha fish, which have darted into crevices, now come out again, as curious as their visitor. Each is more startling in shape and plot, than the last. There are green fish with red stripes, red fish with green stripes, silver fish with black stripes, black fish with silver stripes, blue on silver, silver on blue, dots on ,stripes, stripes on dots. Fish that are long and thin, like animated drinking straws. Fish that are fat and grumpy as goblins. Fish with faces that laugh and say, "Isn't this a delightful world?" and fish with big turned -down lips that mutter, "Ain't it an ewers place to be!" There are fish that dart like arrows. Fish that . dance "their long. sea' dances"- *either solo or in pairs. Fish that loll, se- cure in the doorway of their watery caves. -Here is a brit tient yellow sunfish. There goes a stately black and yellcav banded Moor- ish idol. Now a trigger fish, which natives take the pains to call "humuhumunkunukuopua- a." There hesitates a butterfly fish with a long delicate nose and an even longer name - "louwiliwilinukunukuoeoe" - a name which we doubt if he ever answers to, And now, before I have to leave, a fish I don't know the name for. He lies in a cave entrance like a melted lump of tallow, and surveys the world through disenchanted eyes, writes Chaffee Castleton in The Christian Science Moni- tor. 1 surface, gaspmg for air, gain my breath, then go down again. This time, grasping the lava, I stare into another puka, or hole. In it is a puffer. After a few flourishes of trepidation he settles down to outstare me, and we remain nose to nose, both raptly fascinated. What a comical creature: This marine Pagliacci has a long pointed delicate snout which slopes back to a dish -shaped face and a body the shape of an angular cucumber. The most intricate design 'of royal blue and black pattern his sides - it would thrill a couturier. Itis back is orange polka dots on velvet black, and his comical face is ringed in canary yellow. I surface again, and rest on the yaku, or arm, of the out- rigger, looking across dappled Water to the mid -Pacific isle that we set out from. Here white combers gnash on black lava but three years cooled. There a windmill rising out of a kiawe jungle marks a human habitation. Higher yet, the kiawe (ines - quit known as algeroba) is' broken by deeper bands of green that mark the coffee farms. Pockets of yet deeper green mark the dark lustrous magnolialike leaves of kamane. Broad -bands of lava striate the mountainside, their black fields of a'a; or broken pumice, soft- ened by straggling ohia trees e - the first to grow on lava, and the yellow -green of kukui, or candlenut trees. Long gone are the camphor trees which sweet- ened the air far out to sea. I raised my eyes. A dazzling scarf Of white mist at the 1.500 - foot level girdles the volcano Hualalai, whose top is hid lit rain clouds. Now I grasp a hammer in one hand, and screwdriver in the other (for why dull a wood chisel on bone?), and dive for coral. Down again in the watery world of muted color, huge cor- al heads spring around me like gigantic tinted cauliflowers. Red, rust, blue, purple, mustard, pink -they blossom at my fing- er tips. Prowling among this seem- ingly petrified, but yet a forest of living creatures, I spot ig smaller head, the size of a basketball, with perfectly form- ed branches, and a brilliant blue in color. Surfacing for air, I resubmerge, place the screw- driver against the stem under the branchingi head and give One knock of the hammer. The head breaks neatly off. This I carefully bear to the surface and place the brittle shape, yet slimy with living polyps, in the Outrigger. By the time I have surfaced with another, the first one has turned mauve. In the strong sunlight, it will be pink by- the time we return to, shore. In the meantime my two Filipino companions have not been idle, bringing up beautiful heads and branches to add to our collection. There is branch coral, brain coral, finger coral, antler coral, fire coral (for this they must wear canvas gloves), and an assortment of shells. One af the boys proudly adds a hel- met shell, complete with heavy orange lip and living mollusk, which he spotted crawling along on the deepest place of all. There are also blue -black spiny urchins, a native delicacy when broken open and the roe eaten raw, like marine caviar. To this wealth from the deep 1 add some red-spined urchins, just to make the collection pret- ty. These brilliant red spikes, like pieces of chalk with blunt ends, will turn purple and then brown, as sunlight dulls them. We spy a turtle's hind -legs sticking out from a cave, where he has repaired headfirst to sleep. We grasp him and pull him out, and then have merry sport trying to "ride" him to the surface, the poor creature all the time trying to swim down to those nether realms that he calls home. We finally let him go, and rest and catch our breath on the surface. You would think we would have had enough, but I can't keep my eyes off the bottom. Peering through my face 'glass, 1 suddenly see a small tiger shark meandering among the coralheads. He has a streamlined nose, a long oblique tail, and six feet of gray lithe steely strong body. Now he circles my lava anvil direct- ly beneath me, His little eyes roll up to me, but he keeps on his circuitous course. The picture is complete. The shark in the coral, sleek, beau- tiful in his effortless motion; the reef fish, darting in and out of their crevices or dancing in pairs in the sheer joy of liv- ing; the sun shining down, warming the world; the waters lapping the boat; the trade winds, blowing fresh and free; me on the surface- peering down in wonderment and peace, the surf against the shore, the shore against the mountain, the mountain against the sky. I leisurely climb aboard the outrigger, where my two com- panions had quickly repaired at the first breath of "shark," and we paddled shoreward, our boat heavy with our trophies of the deep. We are in brilliant sun- light, made even more intense by contrast with the mountain we are paddling toward, dark with rain. As we move into the quieter waters of Keauhou bay, a dazzling rainbow arches the sky. R. Barclay Warren, B.A., BA. Who la My NeighbourT Luke 10: 25:37 Memory Selection: Thou love the Lord thy God wit:12 thy heart, and with all thy seule, and with all thy strength, auf with all thy mind; and Or neighbour as thyself. Luke 1111 27. In our Christian life theory and practice must be properly coordinated. The lawyer was u on his theory but not so cleat on its everyday application. H441 knew that to love God with alit one's being and to love one'es neighbour as himself was the way to inherit eternal life. But he also knew that he had not lived up to this law of love and. so he asked, "And who is my neighbour?" The point of thes parable of the Good Samartiaet was unmistable. The essence of neighbourliness is to show mercy on the needy regardlese of colour, race or creed. Thee priest looked at the unfortunate* anan and passed by on the other side. The Levite who perform- ed more ordinary duties around the temple looked more closely' but went on. But the Samaritan, despised by the Jews because he was a descendant of those Jews who had intermarried with the colonists brought in by the Assyrians, cared for the mart. He proved himself a neighbour. He even left the wages for two days' work with the innkeeper to insure his continued care and promised more if it were re. quired. Our well -organized welfare agencies leave us lots of room to be good neighbours. There are needs about us among our citizens and among immigrants, There are the little deeds which we may do that say so much, Nationally we are considering our less fortunate neighbours. The Colombo plan is an example of Our effort here. Many of our trained young people are catch- ing the vision of going to thou! parts of the world where they are most needed. I asked one of my former students what were his plans when he graduated( with his M.D. "Oh, set up t practise here and make a pito of money," he replied, I saw the twinkle in his eye. "No," he said, "I'm thinking of going to North Africa." That is the spirit of the Good Samaritan, MERRY MENAGERIE "Most frustrated turtle I know He's subject to spells of w derlust, but never gets to we he's goinee" Upsidedown to Preveni Peeking v A a .1. V 3 '0 14 0 21 a I 5 a a. 1 MV 9I M a 5 .Li V 3 0 .1. 21 V .1. N .1. 11 140 N 0 14 14 9 0 3 2i 0 0 0 1 3 S a a a ± al v .411121 EllEdilk1610 000 v v v 0.1. s a v • DENTAL DESPREATION -- Josef Schneider is down in the mouth over his work most of the time -and he's not a dentist. Tha children's photographer has found this a sure way to coax es smile from almost any baby -but you must be quick. Schneider began a career 03 a child psychologist, but found that tins eamerci, not the couch, was his trUe medium,