The Brussels Post, 1978-07-26, Page 2Brussels Posy
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WEDNESDAY, JULY g6, 1978
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Serving Brussels and the surrounding community.
Published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario
by McLean Bros,Publishers Limited.
Evelyn Kennedy - Editor.
Member Canadian. Community Newspaper Association and
Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association eNA
Subscriptions (in advance) Canada $9.00 a Year.
Others $17,00 a Year. Single Copieis 20 cents each.
Watch those bikes The last trip to swimming lessons
Kids, please be careful on your bikes.
That short message is the only way we can think of
to bring home to kids the fact that they are in danger
every time they take their bicycles out.
Brussels and community recently had one tragedy
involving a small boy who was killed while riding his
bike. Newspapers from surrounding towns and
villages have been full of similar heart-breaking.
stories.
We know it's summer. We know kids will be kids
and there's a great temptation to take chances on the
highway, to race and play "chicken" with cars. We
know when it's, hot and a kid is out of School it's too
easy to be just a little careless.
But it's up to us, as parents to insist, and back up
our words with action, that our children ride their
bikes only in an absolutely safe manner. Or they
don't ride them, at all.
Drivers have a responsibility to be especially wary
while the children are Out of school, and to expect the
unexpected when kids on bikes are on the highway.
But drivers aren't saints or miracle workers. And
none of them can do much when a careless kid
rides his bike into the path of a car travelling at 50
kph.
No, bike safety can't start with drivers; it has to
start with children and all of those who teach them.
Getting our child-bike accidents statistics down to
zero, where we'd all like to see them, requires work
on the part of parents, teachers, police and even
community members who see kids on bikes
misbehaving and stop to warn them.
Because somehow, we've got to get the message
across: Kids, please be careful on your bikes.
Behind the scenes
We have troubles
By Keith Roulston
Whenever a wave of immigration hits a
country some of the less admirable qualities of
mankind seem to surface,
Canada, peopled as it has been by surge
after surge of immigration from various
corners of the world, has not had a gracious
history as far as understanding goes. When
the Irish arrived in Canada, for instance, in
the 1840's and 1850's, they were met with
signs in parks that said "No dogs or Irish
allowed" or with help wanted signs that
stipulated "No Irish need apply".
Yet within a decade or two when the Irish
had settled into their new land, been accepted
and become part of the new fabric of the land
they were, among those who resented the
coming of other European nationalities.
A second major wave of immigartion has
struck Canada since the end of the Second
World War with huge influxes of Italians,
Germans, Dutch, Greeks, Hungarians and
even Americans. Each has been subject to
harassment arid intollerance. Most today have
settled in and are more or less accepted. A
new wave is having troubles as witnessed by
the cruel "Paki" jokes that are making the
rounds, particularly in the larger centres. The
more immigrants there seem to be, the harder
the resentment seems to grow .
I. have always hated that kind of smalimind-
edness that leads to such discrimination but I
got a little better understanding of what leads
to it a few weeks ago when I was down in the
city for an evening. My destination was a
theatre in a neighbourhood that had a
particularly rich ethnic mix. Walk in one
direction and you were likely to see stores
advertising in Italian.. In another were stores
specializing in clothing for the stylish young
black woman. It was like a little United
Nations in a few blocks of Toronto. For a
country boy used to Canadians born here front
families a century in the country whose main
contact with new Canadians was with the
Dutch who look so much like the oldtiniers
anyway, it was quite an unsettling experience.
It was hard to believe this was my country.
It was supper time and after searching for a
place to eat, passing Up a number of ethnic
restaurants because I didn't feel up to the
strain of experiementation with foods I'd
never tasted before when I was all alone, I
picked what seemed to be a safe.spot, a corner
lunch counter. I mean hamburgers may not be
exciting ethnic fart, but they're a nice
comforting thought when all about you is
So I went in and sat down at the counter and
ordered supper. Then I began to notice that
while the food might be typicOly North
American, `the language wasn't. You might
ask for a hamburg and french fries, but when
the order was delivered to the cook in the open
kitchen, it didn't sound the least like
"hamburg and french fries". It was all Greek
to rne, literally. Now that's nothing new, of
course since about half the restaurants in
Toronto are run by Greeks, as are even many
of those around here. The fun began when
some Greek customers came in. The waiters
and cooks called back and forth to the
customers saying a few words in English, then
switching to Greek then back to English and
so on. The trouble is that when they switched
to Greek there was almost always a laugh
along the way. When they were speaking
English they were saying ordinary things like
"nice day today." What was so sunny when
they were speaking Greek. Were they
pointing to me and saying "Look at that dumb
hick from the country who doesn't even know
how to eat a hamburger without dribbling the
ketchup on his beard?" Are they casting
aspersions on my ancestry?
Actually what they were probably doing was
talking about the soccer game last night but
who knows. There is a kind of paranoia that
can envelope you when people are speaking
another language and you don't know what
they're saying, especially when you know they
can understand you but you can't understand
them. You have to be awfully secure in
yourself or you can start resenting the other
person and for that matter his whole race.
Most people aren't that secure and so we have
the distrust, the animosity that leads to
conflict. The trouble comes not so much
from the tensions between the nationalities or
races, but from the weaknesses within
ourselves.
So we have troubles with immigrants and
we have troubles with our French Canadian
brothers and we fail to lay the responsibilities
where they belong, on our own weaknesses
and petty fears. We lose the chance to enjoy
the beautiful things that can come from
Meeting people of a different background and
exchanging our experiences, The only good
thing about it is that given time, the majority
of us are able to sort it all out and we do get
along with the new arrivals, just in time to
present a united front to the next group of
immigrants.. strange, Respect trees and wildlife!