The Brussels Post, 1975-01-22, Page 2WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 22, 1975
Serving Brussels and the surrounding community.
Published each. Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean Bros.publishers, Limited.
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Brain strain ?
Have the January blahs got you down? Are you
feeling overworked and under rested? Perhaps you
think you need a trip to the sunny south but your
'boss and your budget both disagree with you?
You probably attribute y our terrible tiredness and
lack of enthusiasm to the post Christmas holiday let
down, right?
Chances are though, that you are suffering from
the most overwhelming of all modern ailments,
chronic mental strain. A Soviet scientist in a recent
report to the United Nations says that the tempo of
the most of our everyday lives has increased so much
that we are in danger of what he calls "brain
overloading". "The brain of a man living in the 20th
century has daily to store and deal with a quantity of
information that a previOus generation would have
taken a lifetime to consume," he says.
All of us who sometimes have looked back in envy
to what seems to have been a calmer, quieter life will
probably agree. There were certainly fewer choices
100 years ago. Your religion, occupation, friends,
experiences, and where you would live for the rest of
your life were pretty well determined when you were
born. Your neighbours and all the people you came
into contact with were pretty much like you. Stifling
perhaps, but not overly hard on the old beano.
The scientist feels that the human brain has a
maximum capacity that should not be surpassed.
There has been a great increase in moral, political
and technological change to which people have had
to adapt, he says and the human brain "unlike some
computers is a one-thing-at-a-time machine." When.
several problems have to be solved at once the brain
"pays with mental strain and even pathological
alterations in its structure."
We can't slow modern fife down to the pace of 100
years ago and "unstuff" our brains. So, how do we
cope?
The eminent scientist suggests that we learn, early
in childhood, to use our brains in the most efficient
way to avoid overloading. He suggests organizing
our days by picking out the most important problems
to be solved first, ignoring valueless information (it
takes a certain amount of brain strain though,' to
figure out what's valueless) and learning to
anticipate and master unforseen complex situations
by simulating them beforehand (a sort of imaginative
- what could be the worst thing that could happen
today? game).
Th is is all very well, but some df the Russian's
suggestions on learning how to cope are strain
inducing therriselveS. But brain strain is a serious
problem and we can add it to our growing list of last
quarter of the 20th century problerns.
A last quote fr6m. the scientist on just flow serious
Our situation could be "ChrOnid. Mental. St rain leads
to a derbreaSe ih the efficiency Of the intellect, and
therefore in the 'ability. to COO& with problems i crucial
to human' survival." Someday when you .really want,
to feet weighed .dowho worry about that One' for
awhile,
Next week's column is going to be a r eal
smasher, but in the meantime, I'm going to
clear up a lot of Christmas things; most of
them 'personal. If you don't like personal
stuff, turn to another page.
First of all, thanks to my Uncle Ivan for a
cheery note. He is now the patriarch of the
clan, on my mother's side. I am supposed
to look like him, and act like him. I hope it's
true, and that I do. I'd like to be a patriarch
of something. When you are a patriarch,
you are old and wise and everybody pays
attention to you. I am old and stupid and
nobody pays attention to me. Except my
wife and gradbabby and students.
Bless you, Ursula Brady of Vancouver.
Remember how we kissed behind the car
while Bob White and Pappy Warren and
Dinny McManus tried to get it out of the
snow bank. Don't blush. It was beautiful.
Thanks, Norm Lightford of Ottawa. You
always remember. Do you remember the
room we shared at college, with the bay
windoW and the fireplace? Cannel coal on
Sunday afternoons, stripped to the shorts,
talking about' life and women and stuff.
And do you remember that I left in the
middle of the year, and left yoti, as sports
editor of Torontonensis, and you flunked
your year?
George and Elda Cadogan. Do you
remember the night you li ad a party for all
the sharp young editors and their wives
whom you had met at the newspaper
convention? And it was the night of
Hurricane Hazel? And only about•four of us
made it?
Hello out there to a couple of charaeters.
First, my "TV repairmarr", Six times
year I get a pungent comment from him,
but there is no identification beyond that.
He lives hi Westport, Out. It is always
signed the same way. "Your TV repair
Here's his Christmas card, in part,
"Merry Christmas, Smiley, and the
biggest surprise of all, I: like your column'.
You, I'm not go sure about. Are you trying
to make us think you are old, with that
grandpa bit? My kids are in their 50s and
I'm not old." And more of the same. How
do you deal with that old reprobate?
And hello to another nut: Lt. CO. John
McBwing, Who sends an annual picture of
his pipe band in, of all places.
Spokane, Washington. This year's card is a
splendid thing With four brilliantly colored
quar .ters. I wish I could include the
description of the coat of arms, but space
forbids.
Here's a sample: "The parti-colored
shield Azure (Blue) and Gules (Red) is
quartered saltire-wise by a St. Andrew's
Cross, Argent (Silver) , taken from the old
Flag of Scotland."
That's the essence. By some wild reach
of logic and probability, the remainder of
the coat of •arms drags in such disparities
as the United States Air Force, the Ciarn of
the MacCrimmons, and Canada, "the
home of many fine pipers."
The Colonel winds up his message with:
"I continue to greatly enjoy your writing. I
have been told that whiskey improved with
age." Thank you sir, and if you are correct
in translating the Gaelic motto "Suas Leis
A'Phiob Mhoir" as "Up with the Great
Highland Bagpipe," I couldn't agree with
you more.
You might be interested, sir, in knowing
that our local pipe band, including our
favorite paper-hanger, Alastair Milligan,•
who sounds Irish but doggedly avers he is a
Scot, is off to Miarni with a pipe band, to
play at some football Bowl or other.
Perhaps the last Bowel of the Scots. Or the
last Bowel of the Smilesy, if he reads this.
But I wander. I wanted to say that I am
pretty disappointed in some people. Not a
word from Dutch Kleimeyer. He usually-
asks me to the Last Reunion of the Last
Fighter Pilots. Not a word this year. Maybe
I'm the last, and they're all gone. I
wouldn't be surprised. Last time I went to
one, I returned on my last leg's:
I'm a little piqued that I haven't heard
from Gene Macdonald, the man from
Glengarry, last of the big-tithe spenders;
and Pete Hvidsten of Uxbridge, last of the
vital virile Vikings. These are old
newspaper friends. probably they both
think I'm dead. Maybe I ani, and
typing this in heaven, God forbid,
Finally, thanks to Many and Alan,
George and Win, John and Helen, Bill and
Joan, 'Karl and Michelle, and a host of
others.
By the way, the Acton tree Press is
about to be a hundred years old. A hearty
to Kay, Dave and Kathy
And to everyone, fight a good fight in
1975. It's the only fight in town,
r
Sugar and Spice
By Bill Smiley