Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Undated. Labeled #08

When I was in high school, I met a young man I admired tremendously. He was an incredibly fine fellow, and one of the most accomplished actors I have ever seen in my life. He could pick up a book of Shakespeare and read it like you would read a simple poem, with complete understanding and much feeling. He had been educated in England, and indeed I thought he was English for he had a soft English accent. He looked and talked like Sir Lawrence Olivier. Everywhere he went, he led people to think he was English. Actually, this lad was Greek. But he was ashamed of being Greek. Can you imagine being ashamed of your own nationality? I’ve never forgotten him for that one reason and in my estimation, he dropped down out of sight. Since then I have met many, many people who are ashamed of their racial background. This state of affairs is really pitiful, I think, because every race under God’s sun is so rich in its own culture and folklore; every race has contributed great men and very proud of it. Look back at the great Scot writers...the wonderful Scot music. But were I other than Scotch, I know I would be just as proud of the blood that flows through my veins. I often wondered if that Greek boy ever thought of the almost fantastically advanced Greek civilization that existed centuries ago with it’s great philosophers whose writing have never been equalled...it’s wonderful sculptors...architects...men of science and learning. Look at the Hebrew civilization, going back many, many centuries. The Hebrew contributions to civilization are manifold; the Hebrew home life is a model of perfection. Look at the Negro race, the Ukrainian, the Pole, the Russian, the German, each has behind him centuries of accomplishment by his father, his grandfather’s father, and his great grandfathers father. To be ashamed of your nationality, is unforgivable. Be proud of the blood that flows through your veins. 

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Undated. Labeled #13b

As I fetched him out of the bath last night, and stood him up to dry his small, hard little body with a turkish towel, he looked up at me and said, “Do I have to go to school again tomorrow?” I smiled a little and said, “ Yes, son, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...for twelve long years you have to go to school.” Then he asked me why people had to go to school, and I must confess my eyes watered a bit, because my first little baby was bewildered...so bewildered, having entered a whole new world in one brief day. I felt sad because I knew that during that one day, my son had grown just a little way away from me. The thin edge of the wedge had been forced between us, and tho’ tonight he needed me very much, there would come a time, perhaps much sooner that I expected, when he would need me less and less, when he would become a part of the new world about him, and instead of watching somewhat apprehensively from the sidelines, he would get in step with the world, would conform with his fellow men, would become a statistic in an enrolment book instead of just my small, little, lost boy, who that day had entered his new, frustrating, bewildering world...a world of the realist...a world that has little time for dreamers...a hectic, frantic world that moved at a pace almost too frightening to think about. Why do you have to go to school?  Beneath my breath, I asked the same question, tho’ the emphasis was different...”Oh, why, why, why do you have to go to school?” Why do you have to learn that there is hate as well as love...that there is filth as well as cleanliness, that there is evil as well as good, that you will not always have your mothers comforting caress, and your fathers protecting arms. You have to go to school to learn, son, so when you grow up you can get a job and earn money and get married, and, I thought to myself, have babies of your own...and some day, when you are bathing your own little boy on the first day of school, you’ll understand how I feel, and perhaps you’ll cry a little too. “Off to bed, little man. Tomorrow is another day”

Originally broadcast in March, 1964 on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada.

Brotherhood week slipped by silently last month. A pity too, for our town, like yours, needs a little brotherhood. I have often wondered why the Canadian Council of Christians and Jews do not give more exposure to their credo. We would all do well to read it every day.  It goes like this:

WE BELIEVE: 

In the brotherhood of man under the Fatherhood of God.

That the fabric of Canada is strong and unique because the threads of many races and creeds are woven into it.

That every Canadian secures his own greater safety when he stands united with his fellows to uphold and defend the true spirit of democracy.

In unity without uniformity.

That we cannot demonstrate to other nations that ours is a better way of life unless all our citizens enjoy the same privileges and assume the same obligations.

That a man’s God given rights should not be violated because of his race, religion or national origin.

That the spirit of Brotherhood Week should season out thoughts and actions every week of the year.

That the education of every child should encourage his natural inclination toward brotherhood.

We believe that we can make this a better country for our children to inherit only if you and I strive unceasingly to stamp out prejudice, bigotry and discrimination.

Pretty tall thoughts, my fellow citizens.  I hope you’ll remember them.

Bloggers note: The “Credo” in it’s updated ‘gender-neutral’ form and now referred to as a “Vision and Mandate” is located here: http://www.cccj-ab.org/about.html

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. November 1963. Labeled #04b

Do you ever feel like you’d like to build a high wall around your children? I have felt this way so often lately. In every paper or magazine you pick up you read of the moral breakdown of our society. You read about John Profumo and his shabby affairs with Mandy Rice Davies and Christine Keeler. You read of great football stars like Karras and Hornung being suspended for placing bets on the games they played. You see Liz Taylor and Richard Burton setting the cause of matrimony back two hundred years. You read about a great star like Frank Sinatra playing host to one of the kings of the underworld at a swank Nevada lodge, and again of Sinatra’s efforts to “buy off” officials who were sent to investigate the case. You see what I mean about building a wall around your children? What has happened to our morality? Is the word “honour” no longer in our vocabulary? Is there no longer a place for “integrity” in our society? With the examples we set before our children, is it any wonder they are cynical and disillusioned? There was a time when men fought duels for honour and nations went to war for it. Perhaps it couldn’t be defined even then but men and nations felt it in their bones. A man of honour didn’t lie, cheat , take bribes, offend the defenceless or give in to cowardice. Honour meant living up to one’s word and holding fast to one’s self respect. Today we are raising our children in a fast-buck, back street morality society, and my heart goes out to them. We are giving these kids stones when they need bread. Somehow this trend must be reversed. Integrity must again have some meaning. I often wonder how long our society will lie there in the gutter before it decides to pick itself up and breathe some fresh air again. 

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. May 1963. Labeled #10a

It is hard to say when a child ceases to be child and becomes an adult. Long ago I decided that this occurs when the child first comes to realize that his parents are just human beings. To the father of small boys it is a frightening thing to realize that his kids think that “Dad can fix it!” No matter what the problem the young innocent thinks Dad can fix it. Perhaps it’s a broken toy, a faulty air gun, a plugged radiator on a hot rod, or even a parking ticket. Junior is sure that “Dad can fix it.” And then comes the day when father fails. Dad CAN’T fix it. In one brief moment the child grows up and learns that fathers and mothers are just people, subject to the same fears and heartbreaks that youngsters know so well. This is a terrible moment for a child for although they go through so many years of thinking that parents are nine feet tall and can handle anything that comes along, I think really they start to identify with parents the moment they find out they are frail humans just like them. I you are a young parent, don’t worry about that moment Junior finds out the truth about you. Chances re he’ll draw even closer to you than he is now.

Originally broadcast on Friday April 9th, 1965 on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada.

From time to time you have heard me mention an Uncle of mine who lived in Innisfail, Alberta.  A gentleman of whom I was extremely fond. We laid him to rest from a small chapel in the town yesterday afternoon. He would have been 92 next month. One thought kept reoccurring to me as I sat in that sanctuary. I kept wondering if the gentleman ever thought of himself as probably one of the most remarkable men who ever lived. Do you know that in all the years I knew him, I never heard him speak ill of anyone? Imagine that. I have never talked to anyone who didn’t like him. In that small town of Innisfail close to 200 people would show up at his birthday party. He served the town as Post Master for 41 years. He was a sportsman, musician, public servant, homesteader and husband and father. He did all these things with enthusiasm, devotion and dedication. Until the day of his death he could recall for his great grandchildren the time when he and his father walked from Calgary to Innisfail to take up their homestead. He remembered the coming of the railroad to Alberta and could relate true tales about the Indian bands that used to roam the slopes around the town. He never lost his zest for life. He was at the Calgary Stampede every year and wouldn’t miss a bull sale. When he was 90 years old he took our his fiddle that had long been laid away and started to play it again. He was the first one there when there was trouble and the last one to leave if he was needed. One gentleman remarked yesterday that here was a man who had everything in the world but money and of that he had no need. Citizens of Innisfail, who may be listening to me today, you have lost a great man. You cannot really ask more of life than 91 years and yet many tears were shed at his passing. The world will be poorer for his passing. James Edward Dodd will not go down in history but he has left a great mark on the town in which he lived and in the hearts of those who knew and loved him.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. January 1963. Labeled #12b

Educators across Canada have bee cautiously toying with the idea that some control should be exercised by school officials over the dress of the student body. I don’t know why they hesitate on this issue. It was interesting to notice in driving through 16 states last summer, that all schools required a certain standard of dress of their students. Even the smallest country schools required the young ladies to wear dresses, or skirts and blouses and the young gentlemen to wear slacks and jackets...No jeans...no toreador pants...no black jackets...no shirt tails hanging out...no duck tail haircuts. Frankly, when a young adult reaches high school. I think it’s about time he learned that society expects he’ll start acting like a reasonably  responsible citizen, and that among these responsibilities are certain requirements in dress and conduct. I don’t feel that sloppy freakish dress is in any way conducive to responsible thinking in the class room. I have seen some classrooms in our country, and in the best of neighbourhoods too, where the student body looks more like a bunch of sharecroppers than sensible kids intent on growing into useful citizens. The “article writers” will tell us that this is all part of their expression, their rebellion against conformity. I say “hogwash”. When a youngster reaches high school, it is high time he recognized a few rules and regulations for living in an organized society...and surely the least of these regulations is a reasonable attitude toward his dress. I am sure parents will see the benefit in any regulations which may be enforced regarding dress in our schools, and strongly support any action which may be taken to make such regulations work, if they are adopted.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. January 1963. Labeled #13a

Out in Canada’s great Northwest, there are two sources of weather information. First there is the Northern Alberta Weather Bureau, a highly scientific office manned by weather experts, who use only the latest methods to predict the weather. Our other source of weather is an ancient Indian Chief who comes in from the foothills every fall to tell reporters what kind of a winter we are going to have. The chief has nothing but scorn for the weather office equipment. He will tell us what to expect weather-wise by skinning a squirrel to see what colour the inside of the pelt is, or by checking to see how high up the spruce trees the cones are growing. It may seem a little ridiculous to someone who is not native to these cold climes to tell him that the old Chiefs forecast is the one most folks believe, but there is a reason. You see, the Chiefs forecast is usually a little more optimistic than the weather office. That's the one we believe because that's the one we WANT to believe. I'm firmly convinced that the old gent is somewhat of a rogue who keeps his position of respect simply by coming up on the bright side of the weather office reports. But as long as he keeps predicting mild winters with little snow, I'm on his side, regardless of the weather the follows.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. May 1963. Labeled #10

While looking through a magazine recently I came across these 10 commandments for teenagers. Although there was no author credit, I can say that the person who wrote these commandments is a very wise human being:

1)  Stop and think before you drink.

2) Don't let your parents down, they brought you up.

3) Be humble enough to obey. You will be giving orders your self someday.

4)  At the first moment turn away from unclean thoughts... at the first moment.

5) Don't show off when driving. If you want to race, go to Indianapolis. 

6) Choose a date who would make a good mate.

7) Go to church faithfully. The Creator gave you a week give him back an hour. 

8) Choose your companions careful. You are what they are.

9) Avoid following the crowd. Be an engine, not a caboose.

10) Better still, keep the original 10 commandments.

Well there is a lot to think about here for the young people. Why not get a copy of 10 commandments to pin up in your boy’s or girl’s bedroom.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Undated. Labeled #9

If you read the sports section of your daily paper, you no doubt noticed the story of the pathetic journey of Floyd Patterson from Chicago to New York following his defeat at the hands of Sonny Liston. Patterson drove through the night alone and wore a full beard and moustache so he would not be recognized. He was a completely despondent, beaten man. Anyone who has followed the career of the former champ knows that his managers never let him come up against any real trouble in the ring. If a worthy contender came along, the managers dodged and side-stepped to keep their boy away from danger. They made their deals with the pushovers and the softies. Did they do the likeable Patterson a favour? I think not. Yet, do not many of us do the same thing for our children day in and day out. We try to fight their battles for them, to run interference, to protect them against hurt, yes even keep them from the knowledge that they CAN get hurt in this old world. Many children today reach adulthood without once going to battle for themselves. Then when the first big trouble hits them, and they find out that father is no longer there to fix it, they go down with the first blow. We want to give our children some protection certainly, I submit that we do them a great service by letting them stand on their own 2 feet at as tender an age as possible. It's not always a nice old world and I believe children should learn that very young.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Undated. Labeled #1

There is a breed of person in this world for whom I have the deepest sympathy. They are the little people, the petty people, the bitter people. Their own lives are so empty, so filled with frustrations and hopelessness that they can see nothing of beauty about them. They look at a rose and cannot see the beauty of the bloom; they can see only that the roots are buried in the dirt. They watch a sunset and see little of the splendour of it as they weep that night comes too soon. They see a magnificent building being erected, but can only lament the fact that the foundation is set on hard, cold, drab cement. These are the small, desolate individuals, who are forever looking for a wound on someone's soul that they may pry open; the gossipy, petty people, who are constantly, as they say, "putting two and two together” to come up with the latest choice bit of news about this person, that person, any person at all. It matters not a bit to them that they don't know what they are talking about. They care little about the fact that many people may be hurt because of their actions. To them, it is an outlet, a twisted, sick habit. They are compelled by the drabness of their own lives to add colourful details to the lives of those about them. They are dangerous people too, for they snipe at everything sacred, everything good, regardless of who may go down under the hail of unfair invective. I repeat, I feel sorry for such people. There is so much beauty in life, they never see, for they are sick and only see the dirt. The next time you are tempted to gossip, ask yourself "is it true, is it kind, will anyone be the better for my having repeated it?"

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Undated. Labeled #12a

Saturday night, I was doing a little reflecting on the various duties of Mothers and Fathers. I don't know how it is in your house, but in my house, it's Mother who bathes the boys, and if I have my way, that's the way it's going to stay. On a recent Saturday, I had watched my three tigers from eight in the morning until eight at night, and in that period, they had moved everything that wasn't nailed down, been on top of everything they could climb, been over and under everything that had clearance, jumped from everything they could get up to, been hit by stones, sticks, bats, slabs, pots, cans, pans and hands. They had been run down by bikes, run over by wagons, and two of them had been thumped on the head with buckets of dirt. When they came in for their baths, I was firmly convinced I had fathered three pretty sturdy young bucks. After all, look at the abuse they had taken all day. It took me 2 minutes to learn that they were softies. When my wife got them in that water...BROTHER! I counted the bloodcurdling screams of agony. I got 15 from Gordon, 27 for Martin, and 13 from Gerald. There was no part of their body they didn't claim was injured beyond repair. They were broken, beaten, scuffed, bleeding, poisoned, fractured, maimed, sprained and suffering everything from seven-year-itch to bog spavin, and every ailment was grievously agitated by the application of soap and water. 

Mother, you earn your keep if you bath a boy or two every night. They may be young rippers all day long, but when the sun goes down and the bath water is drawn, when action gets underway in the chamber of horrors, I’d just as soon face a firing squad, as three grimy boys who need nothing so much as soap, water and  sponge. 

So here's to all mothers who can and do tame the roughest and toughest of boys and make them into softies and weeping sissies with only a bar of soap and bath tub full of water!

Originally broadcast in December, 1963 on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Labeled #4a

I read a most interesting and disturbing article last week. It concerned a new course being offered this year at the University of Ohio. This institution is offering a course in "relaxation." Now you may find this hard to believe, but it is so. The Dean of Physical Education when quizzed on the nature of this course said, "well, the pupils will just, you know, sit around and relax." Amen. This would appear to me to be the last straw. Our children are now being taught how to drive cars, how to dance, how to play games, and now how to relax. It frightens me when I compare the educational programs of the Soviet Union with those of our old country and United States. While Soviet youngsters forge ahead in advanced science and math, we all sit around and "relax." Heaven knows relaxation is important, but I always found that the matter of relaxation is closely associated with a maximum expenditure of energy. If the human mind and body is fully extended by a good honest labor, nature will see to it that relaxation will follow. I think it's high time our school got back to teaching the three R’s and a V. Readin’, Ritin’, Rithmatic, and Values.

Originally broadcast in December, 1963 on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Labeled #6a

If you are a constant listener to these little talks you know my feelings about education. I have always advocated a child going the whole course in learning. A young mother gave me cause to re-examine my position recently when she said “I’m fed up to the teeth with education”. She explained that every door seems to be closed to young people today unless they have a degree.  True, but is this bad? According to this mother it is and she has a point. “Who is going to mend your shoes in ten years?” she asked, “and who is going to fix the sink drain and point the roof and tailor your clothes and repair your car?” Her point was that we all can’t be university grads. There must be plumbers and mechanics and repair men and shoemakers, and these are all important and honourable callings for the person suited to them. Well, I think I have to agree with the lady, for what kind of a world would we have if we were all professional men? All the degrees in the world won’t unclog the plumbing when it stops up. There is no doubt about it, the world has need of a very wide range of skills. Maybe it is time we slowed up on the propaganda that a lot of letters after your name is the be-all and end-all of life.

Originally broadcast on April 30th, 1965 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, ALberta Canada

It has occured to me, as I’m sure it has to you, that the city of Edmonton could use a more articulate public relations department. Most people understand the problems of the city, and yet we all get impatient when we see so little action from city crews in cleaning up Edmonton every spring time. I am not saying that crews are not at work. They may be, but the process is much too slow. I ask these questions as I’m sure you do. When can we expect the sand and filth to be cleaned off the main thoroughfares? When can we expect to see the sweepers cleaning up the residential streets? When will the roads be fit to drive on and what roads will receive priority? When will the lanes be graded and cleaned up? When will the boulevards be raked and cleaned? When will the street washers be in the residential areas? If there is a master plan for the maintenance of the city, the taxpayer is seldom told. And so day by day, when we have to tolerate the dust and dirt caused by winters leaving, we become impatient and critical, and rightly so. The problem is compounded by the fact that after a winter like the last one, we are anxious to enjoy a little decent weather when it comes along. However, it is hard to enjoy a walk when the wind keep shipping the filth out of the gutter into your face. We track the salt and sand onto our rugs. It embeds itself into your clothing. It costs residents of this city thousands of dollars a year just for cleaning bills. How much more patient we’d be if someone at City Hall would issue a daily bulletin telling us what areas are being worked on today, where the crews will be tomorrow, and when each of us could expect action in our own district. Instead, it’s a guessing game and we all become more critical of the administration. One question keeps nagging at me. Does a master plan for city clean up even exist? How about that City Hall? 

Originally broadcast on April 14th, 1965 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, ALberta Canada

City council has tentatively reserved up to 11% of Edmonton’s river valley parkland for freeways. 370 acres of this precious land will give way to high speed freeways. It would appear that McKinnon Ravine and Mill Creek Ravine are also to be sacrificed for freeways. Anyone who drives a car in this city knows the city must find high speed routes and expand the city’s freeway system, but gentlemen, for the sake of the citizen of this city and for generations ahead, move slowly on this matter, Ladies and gentlemen look out your window right now. As you drive your car, look around you. What do you see? Snow, filthy streets, drab buildings, brown lawns, dirty gutters and sidewalks, and everywhere you look the mountains of mud and steel and cement that go to make a growing city. Do you see any beauty anywhere in this city? Think of it. For seven months every year you look at that dismal sight outside your window today. But in a few weeks the river valley and the ravines will be green and beautiful. We have them for such a short time. And now they must give way to freeways. Again I repeat. The traffic problems must be solved, but one wonders if certain members of council realize fully what they are doing. Alderman Angus McGugan was distressed to find out that freeway speeds would likely be 60 miles per hour. He said “I want something mid-way between a scenic drive and a freeway concept of travel”. To my knowledge sir, there just ain’t no such animal. When that freeway goes through the parkland, forget the scenery. Freeways are fast and furious business even when they pass through the most beautiful country in the world. You don’t see anything but cement and chrome bumpers. I respectfully submit that council should search diligently for some other answer to freeways. Once they are installed we have them for life and there is no turning back. There is precious little beauty in this cold Canadian city. Surely it is worth preserving. By the way, in case you’re wondering, I live in Ottewell so my interest in this matter is not coloured by my proximity to the areas in question.

Originally broadcast in December, 1963 on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Labeled #9a

I hope you are not one of those people who are offended by talk about unwed mothers.  Frankly, I think it’s high time we did talk about it, and seriously. I was reading a report by Ursula Gallagher, the US Children’s Bureau specialist on services to unmarried mothers and some of the statistics staggered me. The National Vital Statistics Division of the Public Health Service has estimated the number of births in 1960 to unmarried girls 17 and under to be 48,000. This figure represents about 20 per cent of the estimated 224,000 births out of wedlock that year. These are US statistics, but I would assume they would reflect the situation here in our own country pretty accurately.  I’m no authority, but I feel that one reason for this situation is the emphasis our society puts on being accepted. When they are 12 and 13, kids are being pushed into social situations that are way over their heads. Can you imagine a 12 year old boy going to a dance with a date twenty-five years ago? Today it happens in millions of homes right across the country. When they are 15 they get a motor scooter and the following year they have their own car. When they are 14 and 15 they are “going steady” and acting more like old married folks than their mothers and fathers. Then to top it off they have as their examples people like Richard Burton and Liz Taylor, Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice Davies.  No one can reverse these trends but YOU father and YOU mother, but I doubt you’ll do it.  After all, it would be TERRIBLE if your precious little lamb was not “accepted”.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. 01

A few weeks back I will little piece about my late Mothers home remedies. There were one or two more which I forget to mention and have since recalled. My mother used to have a unique way to fend off germs. Not just some germs but all germs. She did it with what she called an asafetida bag. I wore one for three years from the time I started grade one until I finish grade 3. Mother made these bags by tearing up a small piece of cloth into about 6 inch squares. In the centre of the square she would put a cube of camphor and a clove of garlic. Then she'd gather up the four corners of the cloth, wrap a string around the gather, and tie it to my neck under my heavy drop-seat Stanfield underwear. I tell you, in a hot classroom you could smell young Forbes 50 feet away. As soon at the smell started to weaken Mother would put together another asafetida bag and we'd have a fresh go at those germs. Funny thing about it is this. My mother, when I was a kid, didn't believe in shots. I never had a needle in my arm until I joined the Royal Canadian Navy. All my other friends were inoculated and vaccinated for everything from hangnails to bog spavin, but my brother and I went unprotected except for mothers bags. The miracle of the matter is that while the other kids, protected as they were by the advances of modern medicine, we're dropping like flies with measles, mumps, chickenpox and whooping cough, my brother and I never got a thing. We had to be the healthiest kids in school. Naturally I would like to attribute this to mothers bags. No one should have to suffer as we did without some benefit, but in the quiet turning of my own considered judgment, I can see now why my brother and I never caught all those childhood diseases. Very simply, no diseased kid; in fact no healthy one either would get within 20 feet of us. The asafetida bags were just too much to take. Just one thing more. Those bags gave me a nickname which I carried with me for 25 years. They called me...Stinky.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #5

POEM: The Woman Curler

Behold, she rises early, 

She feeds her flock, and then

She grabs her faithful, trusty broom

And she's off to curl again.

The dishes? Leave them in the sink. 

The work? She'll leave that too,

Because around this time of year

There are better things to do.

At parties she just wouldn't think

Of wearing something old.

She watches all her colours,

Keeps them simple, nothing bold. 

Perhaps she owns a fine Dior,

She's keen on fashion’s way,

But take a look at Lulu

When she goes to curl today. 

Her cap is black and white and red,

She wears Siwash thick

That's knitted up in brown and gold

and white and blue and brick.

Her pants are baggy round the knees,

The colours in them clash,

She looks just like a paratrooper

Who walked away from crash.

But one thing I have noticed; 

If she's a little short on style,

I've never seen a woman curler

Who didn't wear a smile.

Just stand there at the rink door

And watch the girls go in,

And you will notice, buddy boy

They all wearing the same big grin.

They always have a warm hello

They’ve time to hear a joke.

They don't care if a fellow curler

Is filthy rich or broke.

They get a lot from curling

Be it championship or "flub".

God bless the woman curler

From the Woman's Curling Club.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #3

If you read time and life and those other periodicals that come to us from south of the border, you have no doubt followed the events leading up to the Republican convention, when Goldwater, Scranton, Lodge and Rockefeller were fighting it out, we read a lot about getting back to the “mainstream” of Republican thinking. Well, I have never been a strong believer in advocating that the populace of any country should submerge themselves in the “mainstream” of political thought. To me, “mainstream” and “conformity” are exactly the same thing and I have never been one for conformity. Here in our own country, the political parties draw closer and closer together and it's hard to tell one from the other without program. In politics, in religion, in the arts, in all fields which affect our lives, there is a crying need for left-of-centre thinkers, right-of-centre thinkers and for some “mainstreamers". Nations need to grow. We must entertain new ideas and question their validity. People should challenge long held theories and beliefs rather than accepting them just because they have been around so long. What we need in this country and in every country is a few more people who are willing to swim against the current, people who are eager to channel off the “mainstream" to see if something more worthwhile shows up in the backwash. When you read the goings on in our own Parliament, do you not often feel that you’ve heard it all before, that it is just the same old stuff your grandfather was asked to digest. I'm no revolutionary, but I do think a little civic thinking is now required of intelligent people everywhere.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #12

I have just read two very excellent books on what I feel to be related subjects. The first book concerning the progress and problems of the American space race. The second book is concerned with the folklore of American weather. How related? Well, in sending man off into the wild blue yonder, it is extremely important that the scientists be able to chart the weather more accurately than they have in the past. At the present time, scientists at Stanford University are working on a computer that will digest millions of facts and figures about the weather and will be able to come up with a ‘rain or shine’ prediction for the following day. However, the scientists say there are some bugs in the machine.  If what I read in the second book is true, they should be left there.  Eric Sloane, who wrote Folklore of American Weather, says bugs can give you a good idea of what the weather will be, especially the Katydids and Crickets. Here’s the old Yankee formula. When the Katydid says “katy-didn’t”, the temperature is 87 degrees. When the Katydid says “katy-did”, it’s 72 degrees. When it just says “katy”, it’s a cool 65. When he cuts down to a brisk “kate” it’s 58, and frost is coming soon. An even better thermometer is the cricket. Sloan says, “Count the cricket chirps for fourteen seconds, add forty, and you will have the exact temperature where the cricket is." Will you tell me how come the Stanford University people don't have this important information?

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #9

Right now, I want to go on record as saying that TV is destroying American and Canadian family. No, it's not the westerns and the private eye shows that I take exception to, it's the family shows. Its guys like Mr. Anderson in Father Knows Best and that syrup-sweet mother in the Donna Reed show. These people are giving our kids the wrong impression of what to expect from their folks. Did you ever hear Mr. Anderson scream at the kids on a wet Sunday afternoon when they are all cooped together? Does Donna Reed EVER lose her temper and haul off and belt one of the kids? As a matter of fact, do the kids ever give them reason to? Even the commercials are destroying us. You see father in his big easy chair smoking his pipe and reading the paper with big grin on his face, and mother, she's knitting a sock and beaming at the kiddies with a great big grin on her face, and the four little ones are playing tiddlywinks on the rug, all getting along like a batch of angels, and they all have grins on their faces. And it's one great big rosy world because they all can’t brush their teeth after eating, but are protected by CL 70. Never a belt in the ear, never a fight in the Corridor, never a raised voice, never to bed without supper, and if a little dirt should be brought into the house by the kiddies, all the idiots run around singing "Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean, he cleans in just a minute, Mr. Clean cleaned your whole house and everything that's in it." And, of course, they all have the idiot grin on their faces. Just try talking like this; it's impossible. Can you imagine Junior sticking his head in the door and saying with the idiot grin,"Mommy, I just threw sis in the automatic washer", and you say, "I hope you used CHEER, dear. So she'll come out whiter than white.” And the kid says “I didn't, mommy, I used ZEST. For the first time in her life she'll be really clean." Yes, sir, TV is destroying the home. How many sets have I got? Two, of course, why be half safe?

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #2

I have just read another article on how you ladies can keep your husband alive. According to all of these articles, and they are all true, we men are burning ourselves out. We are becoming old men before our time. Our life expectancy is 46. We are trying to keep the pace that we ourselves have set. Now then, we HAVE to do that because we have a certain standard of living which we must maintain and improve year-by-year. BUT, you can help us stay alive if you’ll do a few simple things. First thing in the morning, you get out of bed...let him have that extra few minutes in the sack. You get the kids washed, dressed and fed, and then serve hubby his breakfast. Feed the baby in another room because the noise of the baby crying for his meal gets father off to a bad start and ruins his whole day. When he phones you, if he phones you during the day, don't tell him about the baby drinking the turpentine, or the kids breaking the window next door, or the preserves boiling over on the stove, or the nine fistfights you've had in the backyard, or the bills that came in or the cough the baby has. DON’T worry him, he has worries of his own. After all he has that business luncheon at the Petroleum Club, and he must be in good form. And at night, let him relax when he comes home. You cook the dinner, wash the kids, feed the baby, keep it silent around the house, get his slippers, his pipe, his paper, and when you're finished with the dishes, bathing the kids and putting them to bed, tell him about all the nice things that happened to you during the day. All the pleasant little things. Make sure, too, that he gets two days off each week to hunt, or golf, or play poker with the boys, and see to it that he gets away on a vacation alone at least once a year, and, oh yes, don't bother him about clearing the snow off the walks, you do it. Hard on his heart you know. In this way your husband can stand the awful pace of business today and live to a ripe old age. Mind you, you will die at 32 just as sure as shootin’...butt papa, he’ll have it made till he's 99. So there you have girls. How about it? Don't you want to help keep your husband alive?

Originally broadcast on Wednesday March 13th, 1957 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada

Our Heritage - our Challenge

Excerpts from the writings of Lord Baden-Powell:

“I believe that God put us into this world to be happy and enjoy life”  Happiness does not come from being rich, nor from being successful in your career.  The real way to happiness is by giving happiness to other people.”

“Try and leave this world a little better than when you found it, and when your turn comes to die, you can die happy in feeling that at any rate you have not wasted your time but have done your best.”

“Look wide...and when you think you”re looking wide...look wider still.”

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Aberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #7

I'd like to pay a little tribute today to the Beverly Hillbilly’s, that backwood bunch who have become in a short period the most popular TV family in America. Among my own friends there are none who will confess to even watching the show. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Among so-called sophisticates, this show is considered cornball, and yet it has all America laughing, and what a wonderful thing that is. A laugh or a smile is pretty rare thing these days. I think the Hillbillies have filled a great need in Canada and United States. Perhaps if we could all laugh a little more at the lighter happenings in our town, city or country we could clear the air of any acrimony arising out of court, council or water troubles, border disputes, revolutions and bomb tests. A good Spring rain can clear the air of impurities and settle the dust. A good laugh can clear the air of tension, hatred and mistrust. As the slogan tells us,"the family that prays together, stays together,” so I say, “the country that laughs together, stays together." I am convinced we all take life much too seriously., Especially when you stop to consider that not one of us will get out of it alive.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada, Date unknown.

Ease the pounding of my heart by the quieting of my mind. Steady my hurried pace with a vision of the eternal reach of time. Give me, amidst the confusion of my day, the calmness of the everlasting hills. Break the tension of my nerves and muscle with the soothing music of the singing streams that live in my memory. Help me know the magical restorative power of sleep. Teach me the art of taking minute vacations, of slowing down to look at a flower, to chat with a friend, to pat a dog, to read a few lines from a good book. 

Remind me each day of the fable of the hare and the tortoise, that I may know that the race is not always to the swift; that there is more to life than increasing its speed. Let me look upward into the branches of the towering trees, and know that they grow tall because they grow slowly and well. Slow me down, Lord, and inspire me to send my roots deep into the soil of life’s enduring values, that I may grow towards the stars my greater destiny.

*Although the original copy of this does not have attribution to any specific author, there is a website that claims that Wilferd Arlan Peterson, an american author may have written this piece, however, the footnote on the page indicates the following: 

The  poems on these pages were collected from various sources. If they belong to you , or you know the author's name, please contact me and appropriate changes will be made.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #4

On my heart and home talks I have written a great deal about the relationship of Mother and child - very little about Father and child. If I am typical, and I think I am, the father child relationship is just as demanding as the mother child relationship. 

For example, last night I had to do a small repair job on my sons bike, and like all jobs requested of me by this young fellow, I just had to do it right. That feeling is, I think typical of Fathers. The boy expects Dad to be able to do it, no matter what it is, and for as long as you can, you try to allow him to retain the idea that Dad is superhuman, and not just a mortal like other men. 

I so often think when dealing with my sons, that I am shaping their lives, their habits and their attitudes; Their entire way of life, will be a reflection of what I am, and one off-colour word, one shabby deed, one broken promise, can destroy forever that sort of blind devotion and faith that a little boy has for his Dad... that attitude that "my Dad can do it"... “My Dad is the very best." Well, it's a heavy load to carry...sometimes, because we fathers are just ordinary people...no better, no worse than the run-of-the-mill Joe, and yet there are times when I think the good Lord steps in to give us a hand. When he steps up with a paint brush to slap a little gold paint on the old man in front of the ‘kids’, because so often the children will ask Dad to do something he knows he can't do, but he does it. In the field with the boys, Dad brings down a high flying duck with a shot he could never make again. In spite of his lack of mechanical ability, the parts of an old wagon the boys wanted fixed somehow fit together and Dad is proud and delighted that he accomplished the impossible, because the boys expected of him. 

Yes fathers, we're only human, but I feel if we take our responsibility seriously and try to be the Man our kids think we are, somebody out there will be around to give us a powerful lot of help.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown.

How is the road in front of your house? In front of my house the road is two, long, treacherous, icy troughs in which you are trapped for blocks. You cannot turn out of them without turning broadside and getting stuck. I live in Ottewell on a paved well used street. My street is no exception.. it is typical. I think it's time someone came right out and said it. City Hall.. your street clearing project is a 24 carat FLOP. In terms of car accidents your inadequate service to the people of the city has cost thousands... as many as 180 accidents in a weekend period. You lay claim to keeping a few of the main thoroughfares open and we conceed that this is the case, but people have to drive OFF those main thoroughfares and it would certainly appear that you are not the least concerned with clearing the residential areas. Tell us City Hall... are the graders and sanders working in shifts around the clock? If they are not, they should be. Have you brought in equipment from private contractors to help with the job? If you have not, you should. Have you a systematic plan to clean up the roads in residential areas? If you haven't, you should have. The thing that continues to amaze me is this. I have lived here 41 years and every year the annual snowfall takes the city by surprise. Year after year they are ill equipped or unorganized to face this one problem which affects practically the entire population of this city. This is a plea to fellow card drivers. Write a letter to council TODAY. Let's find out before we spend added thousands on new equipment whether the existing equipment is being used around the clock 7 days a week to clean up the problem. We’re sick of excuses City Hall...we’re sick of your endless debates...we’re sick of your trying to get off the hook by comparing our problem with Winnipeg's and in conclusion, we’re sick and tired of trying to drive cars over your residential roads system. We keep hearing what a boomtown this is...what a great future it has and yet in terms of this one project alone, we are being treated by City Hall like we were a hick-town. Let's for heaven sake get the problem cleaned up.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #13

Perhaps you read about her in LIFE. Her name is Jill Kinmont. In 1955, she was one of America's finest skiers – slalom champion in both women's and junior divisions and a shoe-in for the U.S. Olympic team. One January afternoon her life was changed for on the ski slopes in Alta Utah, she crashed into the trees crushing her spine and leaving her a quadriplegic, unable to feel or move anything below her shoulders. It would have been quite easy for this beautiful young girl to give up and quit...But she didn't. Although she has lived these past nine years in her wheelchair, she has never felt sorry for herself. In her own words, she “hasn't been gypped”. Today Jill is a high school teacher and the most important thing in her life is being a good one. She teaches from her wheelchair, and when classes are over her students give her the help she needs to move about. In spite of her total disability, she leads a full and even happy life and she is making a great contribution as a teacher and as a fine example of all that the human spirit can endure. What does she say of people who pity her? She says,"I am afraid that’s their problem." Of her future Jill says, "I certainly can't live on being Jill Kinmont, champion skier, but I want to be somebody again, I would like it. It's possible – so why not?" To that I would like to say Jill Kinmont is somebody; surely one of the most courageous and exceptional girls in the world!

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Date unknown. Labeled #7

You’d be amazed at how much I know about you. You are the person who finalized your mortgage on the day after the mortgage rates jump one percent. You are the person who is second to the last one they let into the theatre before they throw the rope across and say “that's all for now". You are the person who buys the last car off the assembly line before they make the modification on the part that goes bad two weeks after your warranty expires. You are the guy who arrives at the summer resort one day after the low winter rates have gone up. You’re the guy who drives into the service station one minute after the government has passed a ruling that the gas war must end, and prices go up again by ten percent....you’re the gent who buys hi-fi a week before they announce stereo....you’re the girl who finally decided to buy a three lens turret movie camera....and a week later the zoom lens becomes available....you’re the boy who buys the hard-back $6.50 bestseller, only to find it came out in 50 cent paper-back the same day...you are the lady who has her car wash ten minutes before the rains come....you are the guy who gets the ONLY piece of cloth with a flaw in it for your hundred dollar suit....you are the individual whose favorite magazine is six days late....so you go out and buy it, then go home to find it has finally arrived....and you are the poor chap who dies three days after your insurance premium became due. But, despite all your troubles, you are thankful that you live in a land where you never need to fear that you will starve or be thrown into a concentration camp or be told where and how you will live. Unless you are a bit stubborn about filing your income tax!

Originally broadcast on February 11th, 1965 at 11:35 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada

A man who had once been an Alderman warned us against ever getting mixed up in that kind of life. He said at alderman has a terrible time. 

“If,” he said, “you accept invitations to parties they say you are a booze hound. If you don't, they say you are antisocial.” 

“If your picture is in the paper, they say your publicity chaser.” “If it isn’t, they say what happened to so-and-so?” 

“If you oppose spending money you are reactionary. If you don't you are going to put the taxes up.” 

“If you attend out of town conferences, you are junketing, If you don't, you are letting the city down.” 

“If you are for livelier Sundays, you are a sinner. If you're not, you are a spoilsport.” 

“If you say sewers first, the culture crowd is down on you. If you don't, the householder is mad at you.” 

“If you favour putting dogs on leash, the dog lovers all get sore at you. If you don't, the garden fans hate you.” 

“If you get your own street cleared of snow, they say you are chiseling. If you don't, they say what good are you anyway.” 

“If you attend all civic meetings, they say you're trying to become mayor. If you don't, they say you are the council deadweight.” 

“If you vote more money for Alderman, you are a bandit. If you don't you are a hypocrite.” 

“If you work your head off 16 hours a day for the city, your wife will leave you. If you don't, the voters will.”

Originally broadcast on January 4th, 1965 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada

We live in two worlds. The outer world of things and people and circumstance, which seldom yield to our control; and an inner world of thoughts and feelings and desire, where if we so will it, we can be serene and safe. “Blessed is the man”, writes David Grayson, “who has a citadel in his own soul”, a place, where having fought, he may retire for peace. 

You remember old Mr. O'Hara in “Gone with the Wind”. He stood up to many difficulties and disasters unafraid and unbroken until his wife died. Then he went to pieces. And the hired Man, Will, filling in as funeral preacher, spoke these simple words; “We warn’t scared of anything. There ain’t nuthin’ from the outside.  I mean to say what the whole world couldn’t do, his own heart could.  When Mrs. Ohara died, too, and he was licked and what we see walkin’ around waren’t him”.

The strength of life is within. The safety of life is within. Going to church and Sunday school, singing in the choir and the like, are but scaffolding to help in the erection of a spiritual edifice and are no insurance against faults and failure, unless the soul is brought into vital contact with the spirit of God and made strong enough to stand alone, these props are so much vanity.

Originally broadcast on April 27th, (year unknown) at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, ALberta Canada

No glory have I begged from life;

No glitt’ring halo of success.

And tho’ I have desired a star

My heart has been content with less.

Perhaps because I did not beg

For things I know life could not send

Reward has come to me at last,

No stars! No triumphs! Just a friend!

Originally broadcast on June 14th, 1964 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada

What builds a happy home? What builds a happy country? What builds a happy world? Well, that's a big question, and contributing factors to happiness are many, but I feel one on the most important factors in building a happy relationship between individuals, as well as nations, is human communication. It is amazing how many of us just “can't get through”, even to those we love, those we live with every day...children to their parents, husbands to their wives, our associates in business. We have problems, friction that we are dying to talk over with them, but we can't get through. 

It's incredible that a father should not be able to sit down and talk to his teen-age boy about anything under the sun, or that wife should not be able to bare her soul to her husband, or that partners in business should not share the troubles of each other just as they share the profits, and this help and advice should come from those we love and those who love us, and yet so many of us are, as we say, “afraid to mention it”. And so walls build up. They become higher and higher, and soon they are insurmountable. If we cannot communicate at a personal level, how can we ever communicate at an international level? 

How often have you heard someone say...”if I only known”...”if only he had told me”, familiar phrases that usually follow some tragic event. How do you communicate? Well, it's not hard. Just give it a try. No matter how delicate your problem, no matter what the emotions or feelings involved, sit down, talk it out, and I'm sure after it's over, you will find it was not too difficult at all. We are all human. We are all at times blind, and we all at times need help. So if you have a problem, don't isolate, communicate with those who love you and want to help you.

Originally broadcast on June 14th, 1964 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada

A few weeks ago we got into a wonderful verbal battle-royal at our home on the subject of the Womanization of the world. We men tried to make the point that there was no area of endeavour left that you ladies had not invaded. Not only do you invade our sacred ground, but you proceed to beat us at our own game. It started perhaps when the fairer sex put on the first pair of slacks and from then on there was no stopping her. She moved into the business world, the world of sport, she moved in behind the wheel of the automobile, behind the mahogany desk, into politics, into the field behind the shotgun, behind the controls of the outboard motor boat, into the pilot’s seat of the aircraft, everywhere she set out to prove that she could do anything the man could do and do it better. Well, I know what you're going to say, a woman CAN do anything a man can do, and do it better. I won’t even argue that point. All I want to say is this, for the sake of future generations and your own femininity, leave us with at least the ILLUSION we’re the superior sex. Leave us some small area of activity that is restricted Solely to the male. I think most males are like me, in that we would like to feel we are required in this world. We want to love and admire our wives, not be in competition with them. So girls, think it over, stop being so blessed competent in the man’s world. I know many, many husbands who feel their only function is to bring home a paycheck and carry out the garbage.

Originally broadcast on March 30th, 1964 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada

I am very much in favour of the current way of raising children. It used to be that we fed them on a rigid schedule, put them to bed at a specific time and NEVER pick them up when they cried. Today the little one is fed when he's hungry, and when he's out of sorts, he's picked up and comforted by his parents. Somehow this seems right to me. Simply stated, I think children need all the love you can give them right from the day they are born. Small knocks bruise hard in childhood. When I was a kid we had jovial neighbour who used to pile his ‘29 Chev high with children every Saturday for a ride in the country or your or journey to the river swimmin’ phole. One Saturday he gathered all the available kids, as usual, and headed for river beach. I was on an errand at departure time. Impatient to be off, he didn't wait for me; and down the corridor of years, from my hard won adult viewpoint, I can see no special reason why he should have. Yet I still remember the stark tragedy of that summer afternoon. I was unwanted and I wept, and was utterly inconsolable, alone in misery. Like I say, small knocks Bruise hard when you're very young. So little do I understand this, that I do not know whether it is for good or evil that we toughen up, eventually, for that journey ahead. I do know that I feel childhood should be a very happy time for both the youngster and the parent and for this reason I am inclined to reject some of the scientific theory now abroad and raise my kids, perhaps wistfully, according to instinct and folk learning.

Originally broadcast on August 13th, 1965 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

If your kids are like mine, you probably have a saver and a spender in the family. One goes through money like it was going out of style at dawn. The other banks every cent and won't part with a penny for any reason. Trying to teach children how to use and think about money can be hard. I have found a way that helps them to see money in proper perspective. Maybe you'd like to try it. 

While discussing the spending and savings of their allowances, I showed my boys a silver dollar. I asked the one who won't spend money to hold the silver Dollar right up close to his eyes. He did so. “What do you see?” I asked him. “Just the silver dollar”, Dad. I then told him to hold it at arms length and take another look at it. “What do you see now?” I asked him. You and mom and the sky and trees in the Ravine and clouds and the dollar. He got the point without me having to explain further. If you hold too closely to the mighty dollar, if it is all you see, then you are going to miss a great many things in life. If you keep the dollar at arms length you have it in proper perspective. You can see it, but it has taken its proper place in your whole scheme of things. That looked after the saver. The other lad, he said it was a pretty effective demonstration but why not get rid of the dollar completely so it wouldn't block out any of the view. This he did with pleasure, and probably will do for the rest of his life. Well, I got half the family thinking right about money, and in any household that's not half bad average. My wife? Well she's just like you. She ALWAYS has too much month left over at the end of money.

Originally broadcast March 3rd, 1965 at 11:45 AM on CHED Radio, Edmonton , Alberta, Canada

I was going through an old trunk of mine last Sunday when I came upon my high school year book.  On page twenty-two I found a picture of a fellow I will call Charlie Carlson. He was quite a guy. As I looked at his picture I recall one afternoon many years ago when Charlie got into a fist fight during and inter-school sports day. Charlie took on a fellow who was a head and a half taller than he, and at least 60 pounds heavier. The brawl lasted about 15 minutes during which Charlie was knocked down at least 20 times. He never landed a good blow on his opponent but every time he went down, he got up again. I remember saying to him after a teacher had stopped the fight. “What did you keep getting up for? The guy was no match for you”. Charlie said “I guess not, but I didn't know that I was beaten”. Well, that was many years ago, but that great fighting attitude that my friend had as kid has been with him ever since. You see during the war he was pretty badly shot up. In fact he had no right to survive at all. No one gave him a chance but again Charlie didn't know he was beaten. After the war, in spite of physical handicaps that would embitter most any man, Charlie built a new life for himself and has prospered, again not without a fight. Many times his business has been in trouble and everyone said he was going under. Again Charlie picked himself up, put the pieces together and kept fighting. He didn't know he was beaten. When I saw Charlie after the war I felt sorry for him. I don't anymore. I only wish I had one quarter of the courage he has. Here is a guy who will win regardless of the odds. How can anything stop a guy who in all his lifetime has never acknowledged defeat. How can anything stop at guy who doesn't know when he's been beaten.