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ZURICH CITIZENS NEWS
THURSDAY,. DECEMBER 13, 1973
Baa
Be on your guard!
Years ago, we learned that ideas come with people. The
tramp printer revealed to us many tricks of the trade, There is
something to be gleaned from every single person. The inebriate
teaches one not to make a fool of oneself, and, in turn, the pro-
hibitionist makes an ass of himself. In fact, we are rather fond
of using the phrase " a negative virtue is a positive vice."
It's like waving a red flag in front of a bull to say to an
editor; "Don't quote me."
During the war there was a particular directive issued to key
business houses all across Canada. This is what was printed:
WARNING! - The sharp ears of enemy agents are always
listening for scraps of information. Don't let your careless
talk help the enemy. Do not discuss ship movements, def-
ense plans, munition factories, troop movements, harbor
facilities, aircraft production, supply stores. Be on Guard.
At various public meetings there are those mortals who,
either through a fit of temper, a desire to play to the gallery,
or some other design to attract attention, say something they
do not want in print.
They turn to the scribe: "Don't quote me as saying..."
In smaller communities, where everyone knows --or thinks he
knows --the worst side of everyone, a weekly would not survive
that printed all the statements made on the street, at socials,
or meetings of a public nature.
Sometimes, we believe it would be preferable for community
papers to campaign against careless talk in public. Rather than
ask the editor (and even implore him as one man did recently)
not to quote you after you've said it, guard carefully what you
are about to say.
Warning! - The sharp ears of all present are always listening.
Don't let careless talk hurt you, your society, or your commun-
ity. Discuss your society problems at society meetings, your
town problems at town meetings; let your teas and bees be aids
to an improved outlook, rather than allow them to become dens
of gossip.
What profits an organization when one is maligned over a
piece of cake or a hot dog, and the sponsors receive silver in
the exchange?
"Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print, " wrote
Byron. Yet how unpleasnat it would be to see your name as a
community saboteur!
Remember, the fellow next door who is continually running
down the preacher, the doctor, the teacher, and the business-
men about him (God help them all) is a mighty poor commun-
ity man. Is it not then a stringent necessity for people in soc-
iety or public life to be careful of what they say? Careless talk
helps defeat any organized purpose. BE ON YOUR GUARD!
(One Small Drop of Ink)
Scab!
Inside Ontario we have the supernal beauty of hill and valley,
lake and forest, farm and populated communities--ar era of
gracious living.
But in this color -pattern of living, the comfort of home, and
the challenge of work, there is the disturbing element of man's
attitude to man. It is a continuing contest for conquest, union
versus management --for hunger's sake no longer --for supremacy.
Clouding the Ontario scene blackly is the attitude of men
who will call their brothers a despicable word: scab.
The term "scab" was used in 1886 when "the shoemakers'
union overseas was very strong. Because one of the group refused
to pay his dues, his shop was struck from the union list and all
men working there were called scabs."
It is presumed that this was the period when it was decided
that all men should have equal pay for unequal ability, that
force was the only legislation, that effort should be measured
by a shortened ruler, and hours rationed, that money was the
greater evil if the other fellow had more, that the rich should
be made to grovel, and the have-nots should be raised to the
high status of position without thought and without effort.
When one thinks of the transition of "scab" into the Ontario
community these late years, when a fellow citizen is called
a scab because he thinks and acts differently on bargaining
issues, it must be humbly acknowledged that some humans have
not advanced much in their thinking since the days of the shoe-
maker scab --and God help some of us for our dumb stupidity!
(One Small Drop of Ink)
ZURICH Citizens NEWS
PRINTED BY SOUTH HURON PUBLISHEPS LIMITED, ZURICH
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DO THEY EVER
GROW UP?
Perhaps someone who has gone
the whole course can tell me
when one's children stop depend-
ing on their parents when it
comes to the clutch,
Is it in their forties, fifties,
sixties? Certainly it is not in
their twenties.
Recently, we received a note
from our son Hugh, to tell us he
was taking some holidays and
would be home for a few days'
visit.
I thought, "Good. He's saved
some money and won't arrive
broke, as usual." He had.
Some days later, in a teleph-
one conversation with daughter
Kim, we learned that Hugh had
dropped in to see her, and had
drifted off, muttering something
about going to Chicago. That
is a slightly roundabout way of
getting to our place.
And a few days later there was
a collect call from Houston,
Texas. You guessed it. Hugh,
flat broke. Could we wire him
money for bus fare to get home?
He was crafty enough to call
when I was at work. 0 would
probably have refused the coll-
ect call, and regretted it later.
Or I'd have shouted, "No, I will
not send you the price of one
serving of Kentucky fried chick-
en, " and slammed up the receiv-
er.
But he sweet-talked his moth-
er for five minutes before he
popped the question. She was
not only affronted but taken
aback and didn't think quickly
enough to tell him we were just
off to Florida or the west coast
or anywhere.
She waffled a bit, and event-
ually said she'd see what his
Dad said but nor to expect any-
thing. He sighed with relief and
told her where to send the mon-
ey.
I came home from work on a
Friday after a hard week. All
I wanted was to get my shoes
off, have a quiet drink before
dinner, and read the latest
goodies about the energy crisis.
And all I got was a family
crisis, a scramble to the bank,
and a dash to get to the tele-
graph office before it closed for
the weekend.
At first I stood my ground.
Not a penny. Let him starve in
Houston. At least he won't
freeze to death (he'd airily told
his mother it was 90 degrees
down there.)
And she agreed with me. "He
doesn't deserve a cent. He was
told he was never to do that
again. Ungrateful young pup.
Why doesn't he hitchhike home?'
"Well, I said, "some of those
southern states are pretty tough
on hitchhikers. Throw them in
jail for a month."
I could just see her thinking
of her first-born slaving on a
Georgia chain -gang or something
of the sort. After a heated half-
hour, we agreed that money
isn't everything, that you can't
take it with you, that he's the
only son we have, that it would
be nice to see him, and that
I'd better hustle if I wanted to
get to the bank in time.
It cost me about $115, count-
ing the bus fare and grub to get
home, the cost of the collect
call, and the charge for sending
the money.
That's what I call sending
good money after good. Of
course, Hugh wouldn't dream of
accepting a gift. It was strictly
a loan. According to his figures
he now owes me $3 80. without
interest, and will have the
whole thing paid off any time
now. According to my figures,
he owes me $880,46, at eight
per cent interest, and he'll
never pay if off.
This has been happening to
me for years. First, the kids go
to their mother, and soften her
up. Then she comes to me, and
softens me up. Then I go back
to the kids and practically apol-
ogize for being so slow with the
loot.
Of course, I reason, Hugh's
only a kid. Practically a baby.
He won't be twenty-seven until
July. You can't expect him, at
that tender age, to know enough
to SAVE MONEY FOR BUS FARE
HOME!
But that other kid. She's a
different matter. She'a almost a
mother. And she pulled a swifty
Oil us this week. Another coll-
ect call, on Sunday. Nice to
hear her. Asked how big the
tummy was. All very matey
and maternal.
Then carne the punch line.
Don, her husband, was on the
way up from the city with their
cat, to put in our care. He had
to hitch -hike because he couldnt
bring the cat on a bus. Her
mother nearly blew a cork. The
Banged cat isn't trained.
So we have two additions to
the household this week. Two
fat cats. One in the backyard,
yowling to get in. The other
watching TV, sleeping till
noon, and waiting to put the
bite on me for more bus fare
back to his job in Quebec.
I shoulda been a cranky old
bachelor.
0
When Rama and Mara Town-
ships, in Ontario County, join
Simcoe County January 1, 1974
3, 500 acres of Agreement For-
ests will be added to the 22, 000
owned by Simcoe County and
managed by the ministry of
natural resources.
Business n ►A Prof essiona8
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527.1240
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10 Isaac Street 482.7010
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Norman Martin
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