The Brussels Post, 1974-04-17, Page 24Brussels Post
BRUSSELS
ONTAR IO WEDNESDAY, APRI1.. 17, 1974
Serving Brussels and the surrounding cOmM.unitty.
Published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean Bros. Publishers, Limited.
Evelyn Kennedy - Editor Tom Haley - Advertising
Member Canadian Community Newspaper Association -and
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Mr.
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E4TAILILISHED
An eight day week
Canoeing the Bayfield
There has been a great deal said and written in
recent years about the estalDliShment of a shorter
work ,week. The 60-hour stints of the early 20th
century have given way to ever shorter work periods.
As recently as 20 years ago five-and-a-half or six,day
weeks were not uncommon for most people. Today it
is fully expected that some will be able to get a full
week's pay for 36 hours of labor.
In spite of our evident intention to provide
ourselves with more leisure time, it seems that were
frantically trying to jam-pack our days with feverish
activity so that we will need eight days rather than
seven in' which to burn up our excess energy.
After the revolution in Russia, when the ancient
precepts of the established church were in total
disfavor, the government of that day decreed that
there would no longer be one day of idleness in every
seven. Unending production was all that mattered..
In 'a few years, however, with production by
individual workers lagging badly, a decree went
forth that there should be one day of rest in each
week so that workers could recharge their vitality.
As is the case with so many of the rules we always
thought were purely religious, we find that they
were, indeed, wise precepts for the survival of
human society. Latterly, however, we have
disregarded the common sense need of a day of rest
each week. More and more, organizations are
scheduling meetings for Sunday; places of business
and recreation centres remain open on Sunday;
arenas and ball parks are so busy that even ,minor
sports must be scheduled for Sunday.
To those who are sincerely religious the ",'abuse"
of the Sabbath is shocking, and they are entitled to
respect of their views. But even to those people of
common sense who are not particularly church
oriented, the unending cycle of weeks which see no
let-up in dashing from place to place is becoming
abhorrent. (Wingham-Advance-Times)
airy Graven--t4>Eisrt ate *tit tidbit' in that rldiculoiu .g0Ctitit4
Have you ever been a VIP? As a matter
of democratic principle, I'm solidly against
special treatment for anybody. But when it
came to practice, I found it delightful, and
wondered what the poor people were doing
tonight.
It has never happened to me before, and
probably never will again, so I want to get
the experience down here for posterity and
my grandchildren.
it happened during my recent trip to
Germany, courtesy of the Department of
National Defence. Hold it, you taxpayers.
It didn't cost you a nickel. The plane was
going anyway, and I was told I'd have to
pay my own expenses overseas. Fair
enough.
The invitation was very casual, and there
were no strings attached, though the
Department knew 1 write a syndicated
column. But I could have gone to Germany,
spent three days in a beerhall, written
nothing, and no questions asked. I chose to
do otherwise.
Thus, I had a quick, but enlightening
look at that comparatively recent hybrid,
the Canadian Armed Forces, the rather
pallid name chosen by, Paul Hellyer, when,
as Minister of Defence, he integrated the
Royal Canadian Navy, the Canadian Army,
and the Royal Canadian Air Force.
That was a bitter time for those in the
service, as each branch ..had its special
pride and traditions, and foresaw these
being swept away in the integration
process. Many of them were„ and the
bitterness has not completely dissolved.
But it probably made sense, There is
Only " one uniform now,, a reasonably
attractive dark green. There are no more
Group Captains or Lieutenant-Cott
MariderS. Army titles are used throughout.
At any rate, these were the people I got
tangled with for a few days which I
thoroughly enjoyed.
I talked with all ranks frOm corporal to
Brigadier-General, I couldn't find a
private, and Still wonder if there are any
left in the service. Generally, I found them
friendly, courteous, reasonably happy in
the forces, and keen on their, jobs. It was
quite a change from the `""rude and
licentious soldiery" 'of Wartime, with its -
constant grousing and grumbling.
I began My pilgriniage as a VUP (Very
unimportant Person), just my usual self,
lip at 7.30 and a long, cold, boring bus ride
to Trenton. Hours to Wait for my flight.
Nothing, to do. Tired already, Elizzard
Outside Everything fairly typical, itt other
Words,
In despair, I asked a couple of ladies at
att itiforination deSk if there were anywhere
I could lie down fora while. One of them -
she must have been my fairy godmother -
said there was a VIP lounge.
I went into it, expecting: to be thrown
out, and a handsome young pilot in there
looked a bit surprised, but pleasantly asked
if I'd like some coffee. We exchanged a few
remarks. I told him who I was and where I
was going. And suddenly, to my utter
ineredtility, I discovered that I was a VIP.
This Captain Hallberg, who turned out to
he the Duty Officer for the day, looked at
my letter of confirmation for the flight and
went into high gear. Carried my bag, took
me to the officers' mess, got me a room for
a lie-down, showed me where the bar was,
lined up dinner, drove me back to the
terminal, checked my bag and ushered me
through the blizzard right onto, the plane
and to my seat.
This went on for the next four days, and
I'll never be the same again.
Crossing was pleasant enough, though
exhausting. The Forces use large Boeing
707's (I believe they have five of them) to
shuttle personnel, baggage, mail and
whatever to Germany, Cyprus, Egypt, and
back and forth across Canada. The're fast
and comfortable. No drinks and no movies,
but excellent service from two young
ladies, with food and coffee and snacks.
Can't sleep on planes, so spent the time
exchanging horror stories with two
veterans of Dieppe who were going to a
Dieppe reunion,
Tottered off the plane at Lahr, the
Canadian base in Germany, in, the Black
Forest region. Walked into the terminal
and an officer walked up: "Are you Bill
Smiley?" I admitted as how I was. fie was
Lieutenant-Colonel Hopkins, the chief
padre. Ills wife was with hilt, They both
went to the same high school I did, years
ago, My, kid brother had asked them to
meet the plane. "Hoppie" calls himself
The Vicar of Lahr. They offerd all
hospitality..
With them was a Captain; who took
charge of me, showed me around the town,
got my brother on the ph oh6, took ine td S
bank to Change dollars for marks, and took
nie to a hotel rootn, he had organized. I met
this same unfailing courtesy in all forces
people I encountered, both Canadian and
American.
-8taggered into bed at 4 oil. Gentian
tine, just 27 hours and no gooti after I
Started out. Left a message to be called at
6.30 the next Morning. With typical
German efficiency, the maid called me St
6.30 the same evertitig, Horrors, Back to
bed and died until 5 a.m. More next week
froth Travels,
Sugar and Spice
By Bill Smiley
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