The Brussels Post, 1974-04-03, Page 2EFFilostifp.ink
4Bnissels Post
BRUSSELS
ONTARIO
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 3, 1974
Serving Brussels and the surrounding community.
Published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean Bros.Publishers, Limited.
Evelyn Kennedy - Editor Tom Haley - Advertising
Member Canadian. Community Newspaper Association and
Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association.
Subscriptions.(in advance) Canadal$6.00 a year, Others
$8.00 a year, Single Copies 15 cents each.
Second class mail Registration No. 0562.
Telephone 887-6641.
The transportation mess
Radio shack
Sugar and Spice
By Bill Smiley
Citizens have become so used to doubletalk from
all levels- of government that they are more than
slightly taken aback when someone in government
admits in black and white, right there in the daily
newspaper that his department is a mess and that he
doesn't know what is going on.
But we read it and it must be true. Federal
Minister of Transport, Jean Marchand, said last
week that he doesn't know who is. managing
Canada's transportation policy, that Canada has no
comprehensive transportation policy and that
transportation in Canada is "a mess."
Mr. Marchand's candor certainly was refreshing
but it didn't tell those of us who live in rural areas
"serviced" (we use the word loosely) by the,
Canadian National Railways or the Canadian Pacific
Railway, anything new.
Rural Canadians know that transportation in this
country is a mess. Thanks to the railways being
allowed to phase out all rail operations it judged
unprofitable (authorized by the 1967 National
Railway Act which Mr. Marchand now says was a
mistake) people in the small centres have had little
access to Canada's network of public transportation
for several years.
Non-drivers; many of them senior citizens, are
lucky if their villages or towns are serviced by a daily
bus that can transport them to urban train stations.
In places where buses have gone the way of trains,
they must depend on the charity and goodwill of
friends.
The CNR, supposedly a public corporation run for
the benefit of the Canadian people has been
encouraged to see profit not service to all Canadians,
as its primary aim.
In establishing the Canadian Transport
commission several years ago, parliament saw this
as a solution to the railway problems that had
plagued Canada since Confederation. Unfortunately,
as Mr. Marchand tells us, while the problems have
been removed from the political arena they by no
means have been solved. Service, whether it be for
people or for the movement of less profitable bulk
products, too frequently appears to have become a
forgotten word as far as the railways are concerned.
Despite the fact few of us used the rail service
that was available to us in rural Canada, we wonder
now, given the advantage of hind sight, if train
Service should have been ended to the small towns in
this country.
With energy crisis and fuel shortages and
inflation it is now adMitted that trains continue to be
a sensible, economic way to move people and goods.
Arid in future the high speed trains being developed
in Europe May give both the private car and the
airplane a run for their money.
We can see the future how. All over rural Ontario
the railways will be scurrying around, trying to buy
back those weather beaten old train stations that
they have recently been selling of in every Small
town Where rail service has bedn dropped as
Unedonomici
We welcOme Mr. Marchand's forthrightness in
admitting failure of •what parlianlent had hoped Was
a solution to the railway prOblern, it'S- most unusual
in today's politics. Nov the question is What is
going to be' done about it?
This -is going to be a shot-gun column,
instead of the usual coherent, unified, lucid
examination of' a single topic.
I'm going to aim in all directions at once
and pull both triggers. Reason is I've got to
get ready to go to Germany on Sunday and
have a lot to do. Like shine my shoes, and
change $12 into rubles or whatever they
use, and get my wife to iron some shirts,
and, uh, get her to pack my bag, and uh,
well, a lot of important things.
First of all, I've rediscovered a maxim
that was already ancient when Moses
looked out over the promised land; women
are not only unpredictable, ' but
unreasonable.
My wife had known for about a month
that I might be going to Germany on the
winter break. She thought it was great for
me. "It'll be a nice change for you. And
it'll do you good to get away from me for a
few days. You must get sick of me."
I Red politely, as usual. Told het I didn't
need a change, that I could scarcely bear
the thought of being separated, and that
the very idea of being sick of her was
nauseating.
Then I came.home one day and told her it
was all set, -but that she couldn't go.
"When?" she queried, knowing it would'
be several months off, and that there might
be an earthquake or a flood or something' in
the meantime.
"Oh, I guess Sunday night", I
responded . casually, serene in the
knowledge that she was in favour of the
trip. She burst into tears.
The next topic also deals with the family,
and with an aqueous event, Aside from a
rainstorm, have you ever been soaked from
a great height?' I have. Last Sunday.
I was thoroughly enjoying playing with
my grandson, He's old enough now to be
played with, without fear that he'll break. I
had hint under the armpits arid Was
hoisting him in the air, making those
ridiculous sounds that would make
grandfather blush crimson if they ever
heard them on tape,
A look of pure glee passed across file
kid's face, and I thought, "By golly, he
knows me, and he's enjoying his gratidarl'
. Next second , I was soaked from shoulder
to knee. It was warm, and at first I thought.
I'd burst a painless blood yessel. But it was
the wrong colour.
It's hot unpleasant at first. Rather like
taking a want ; salt bath with your clothes
On, It's, when it begins to cool. 4
There's not Much more to be -developed
there, s6 ill hitt to topic tl reer dkarns'r
which we have Stitt gond through a session
of,
Nothing is more depressing than starting
to Mark a set of exam papers, and finding
that the first five you mark are failures.
You are filled with self-doubt. "Have I no
taught them anything? I'm a failure as a
teacher. I should go back to the shoe
factory. If everybody fails, I'll be fired
because in this system, if you're teachin
failures, you're a failure as a teacher
regardless of any other .factors."
Then -you pick up a paper. and the
student has understood what you've
taught, and applied it, and used some
brains of its own, and it's a ninety
percenter. Halleluiah! And you're hooked
for another year.
' There is only one thing worse than
marking exam papers, That is supervising
the writing of them. The quaint old word
for this function is "invigilating." It
sounds kind of dirty, but it isn't. Just
utterly boring.
You are figuartively locked. in a room for
two hours with about 35 teenagers. That
alone is a fate worse than death, for some
people. Personally, I'd rather be locked in
with 35 students than with 35 balloons
Then begins two hours of•hell. The kids
are supposed to be tense, nervous,
straining every brain cell to do welt.
They're about as• tense as a hibernating
bear. Susie takes off her shoes, assumes a
yoga position, and looks out the window.
Jack's crutch, a relic of skiing and a broken
leg, falls oh the floor,'and you jump a foot,
while the victims snicker' *
You resort, after the first hour, to such
things as counting greasy hair versus
washed hair, bras versus braless, big
clumsy boots versus sneakers,
You look up at the picture on the wall of
the Queen, 'on whom somebody has drawn
a moustache, You fill in, with your
imagination, sideburns, and realize the
Queen would have been pretty dashing in
1580.
You look out the window at the dirty
show.banks and dream of a beach or a trout
strearn. You whip around, aware you are
drifting, to see if anyone is cheating.
Nobody is. Except Joe, who has given up
after half ari hour of tongue and Peri
working together, and is sound asleep,
head on atins. An early fly buzzes.
Warned you this would be a shotgun
coliirrin, But I think I've covered everything
on the home front,
Next despatch will be front Germany,
promise it will be loaded with frauleinr
gertiutlithheit, blutwurst, putsches and
other Teutonic goodies,
Let's tee ti ow,. if I reineinber
beutscli. "Was maken sic Met'? "Wi
bur ist es? Nich raticheti bevor der
laitadinte.g.:
tie
Ich bin eifi krieggetattgeriner.
bist -die Seheissha Reck• en I'll
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