Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

In my capacity as program director for a private radio station I have occasion to make changes in the stations policy from time to time. If I make a change that gains wide approval from the listeners, I hear nothing from them. If I do something to gain their disapproval, the phone comes right off the hook and the mail flows in. I have often wondered why the human race is so slow to express approval and so reluctant to say thank you. Isn’t it true though? If we like an article in the paper we read it and forget it. If we dislike it, we write the editor. If a waiter or a clerk gives us a good service, we except it. If the service is poor we complain to the manager. If the repairs on our car are well done and satisfactory we are happy but silent. If we have a complaint we are fast to see the service manager. If we like the music a radio station is playing, all is well and good, we say nothing. If we don't like it, we write or phone the Program Director. Any person who provides a service knows of what I speak. Most folks honestly attempt to do their best. One in a million will say thank you for a job well done. Why then are we also anxious to complain when something doesn't satisfy. What a wonderful world it would be if we all learn to express our gratitude as loudly as we express our displeasure.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date Unknown

For those of you who do not know it, I am the program manager at a radio station. At this time of year we naturally program a great deal of Christmas music. There is one Christmas recording however we cannot use on our station, for its playing always brings phone calls and letters of complaint. That recording is Mahalia Jackson's Silent Night. If you are familiar with Miss Jackson you know that she is probably the foremost gospel singer of her time. In fact she refuses to sing anything but sacred music. Her rendition of Silent Night however departs somewhat from the simple melody we all know and love. Miss Jackson puts into the song all the deep feelings she has for this special Christmas selection and in so doing seems to offend a certain segment of the radio audience who feel the song should be sung, as they in say in music, "straight". I hasten to explain that she sings Silent Night at a very slow traditional tempo. It is just in the melody that her magnificent voice cascades over you melodic lines to give the old Carol a thrilling new dimension. Yet people phone and tell us it's a sacrilege. These same listeners will sit through a monotone reading of the same song by some tasteless performer like Bobby Vinton and never bat an eye. Simply because he adheres to the melody. Loving music as I do, I feel strongly about this, for no one sings Silent Night quite like this great lady. Do yourself and the Program Director of this station a favour of this year. Phone and ask to hear Mahalia Jackson's moving recording of Silent Night.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

We had an election in our city last month. There was a great deal of bitterness in the campaign since one of the candidates for mayor had been forced out of office as mayor some years ago for what was termed "gross misconduct." In the hotly contested election last month he was again returned to office. Since then our city has been the scene of picketing, street brawls and threatening violence. Constitutionally we all have the right protest, but we see developing in our quiet western city all the ingredients of mob violence. We all think the same thing. "It couldn't happen in our town". When I hear that I think back to another community who thought that way, and it wasn't so many years ago either. It was November 26, 1933, in San Jose, California when over 10,000 people took the law into their own hands, battered down the doors to the jail house and removed and lynched two convicted kidnappers. Mothers were seen hoisting their children above the mob for a glimpse of the kidnappers as their bodies hung from the trees. Such occurrences hang very heavy on the conscience of a society and even today in San Jose, no one wants to discuss that terrible night when the mob took over. I am not suggesting that such a thing will happen here in our city, but I do suggest there is great danger when two opposing factions gather in one area to "protest". Somehow a man feels less responsible when he is part of a group and believe me, it only takes one thrown rock to turn a "group" into a mob. We CAN’T let it happen here.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, October 26, 1964

Right here and now I want to go on record as saying that TV is destroying the American and Canadian family. No, it's not the westerns and the private eye shows that I take exception to, it's a family shows. It's 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 up together?  Does Donna Reed ever lose her temper and haul off and belt one of the kids? As a matter of fact, did 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 a big grin on his face and mother, she's knitting a sock and beaming at the kiddies with a big grin on her face, and the four little children are playing tiddlywinks on the rug, all getting along like a batch of angels. They all have grins on their faces, and it's one great big rose coloured world because they all can't brush their teeth after eating but are protected by GL70. Never a belt in the ear, never a fistfight 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 running around singing Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean, he cleans in just a minute. Mr. Clean will clean 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 that. 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 - Tuesday, June 14, 1960

When I was a kid, there were two very very important words that I heard at least 20 times every day. Those two words were, "straighten up". For 10 years I heard that loud and clear call every time I set out for school, every time I went out with my best girl, every time I got within earshot of my father, "Straighten up”.  My dad knew there wasn't too much he could do about my brain, but my spine he was going to look after, and I was never allowed to forget to throw my shoulders back whenever dad caught me in an upright position. Why I mention this is because I think the youngsters of today need a few "straighten ups" yelled at them, especially the young ladies. Last Sunday I just took notice, as I'm sure you have done, of the number of young ladies who sort of sag along the street in their flat heels. Their eyes are downcast and their spines bent over and so many of them have that "what's the use" look. In contrast, I saw two other young ladies on Sunday walking along 142nd St., beautifully turned out in their Sunday best and they were straight as a die. They look like a million dollars. So mothers, and fathers, let's get the kids to throw those shoulders back and straighten up those spines or we're going to have the saggiest generation of adults in history. And kids, if you are listening, just try it for a while and see what a difference it makes in how you look and how you feel. You're going to have to carry the burdens of this world on those shoulders, so let's get those spines straight up and down and begin to look like you can handle the load. I know things look black, but I'm sure they're not as bad as those bent over backs and droopy young chins would indicate.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

A man by the name of William Burke wrote these lines. 

"I was angry with my friend, 

I told my wrath, my wrath did end. 

I was angry with my foe. 

I hid my wrath, my wrath did grow”. 

You know there is a very powerful philosophy in those four lines. They can help you through difficulties in any personal relationship. How often has someone close to you, perhaps your husband or wife, let you down? How many times have you felt that a friend has betrayed you? Brooding over these hurts, whether they are real or imaginary, harbouring suspicions and grudges can corrode your outlook and take all the joy out of living. By simply telling the person involved how deeply you feel you dissipate all that poison inside you. If the person is your foe the simple act of "telling" your anger will act as a miraculous immunity to future venom. If the person is your friend, the antidote strengthens the bonds of friendship by wider-vision and understanding.

Originally broadcast on ChED radio - Thursday, February 27, 1964

I have a long looked for a satisfactory definition of “courage". I think one of the finest was uttered by an old lady in the novel "To Kill a Mockingbird". In substance she said, "courage is knowing you are beat before you start, but starting anyway". That may not be the best definition but it will certainly do until another turns up. "Courage is knowing you are beat before you start, but starting anyway". I have always felt that there is more courage in man's make up than he sometimes cares to admit. We often marvel when we pick up our papers to read of some daring feet that someone has performed in the face of great danger, or where we hear that someone has endured torture that we feel sure would crush any mortal. It is well to recognize at times like that, that the soul of man goes down hard and leaps from ruin quickly. There is, within each of us, a great well of courage. Perhaps we’ll go through our life never having to draw from that well. Perhaps tomorrow, it may be your turn to dip in for that extra bit of courage and faith you need to get over the rough spots. But fear not, the help you need is there awaiting the summons. I have always likened life to a prize fight. No matter how many times you are knocked off your feet, you still have a chance to win, if you'll just get on your feet and go one more round.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, March 22, 1965

There is no moment a father fears more, and needlessly so, then that moment when his son discovers that Dad is just human. If you are a father you'll know what I mean. For 10 years the lad will come to you with the kites to be built, puzzles to be worked out, airplane models to be built, ships to be launched, fire crackers to be set off, bike tires to mend and geometry problems to be solved. For the first five years it never occurs to a child that Daddy is incapable of anything. The problem, whatever it may be, is turned over with the simple request, "fix it please." As the lad grows older, perhaps a bit of doubt may creep in and the problem becomes a little more complex, but the doubt is usually completely shrouded in the very positive statement, "you can fix it, can't your Dad.” (A statement of fact, not a question) and somehow Dad does come through. Perhaps he can fix it, but if he can't at least he can stall until tomorrow at which time father can have it fixed by some face saving expert. But eventually the day must come when father comes face-to-face with a problem he can't handle. It's always a Sunday when no outside help can be found. The boy is older now, and he watches over his father's shoulder as Dad goes his best against the problem. And then it happens, as it must sooner or later to all fathers. The child says, "you can't fix it can you Dad." There is no recrimination, no contempt. Again a simple statement of fact. The boy at last has found out that fathers are very human. On the day your son says "you can't fix it can you Dad" you will start to enjoy the most rewarding experience of life, father-son, man–to–man association with your lad.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Thursday, September 21, 1961

I read an interesting article the other day about a forest fire that had destroyed a Rangers lookout tower while the Ranger stood watch. You might ask, how could this happen, but really the Rangers explanation was simple. From his lofty perch high in the air, the base of the tower on which he stood was the only thing he COULDN’T see. When I read this I thought how like most of us this ranger was. Isn't it true that we are always looking for trouble far afield, but at the same time we can't see the trouble brewing right on our own doorstep. If you listen to our new show "Nightline" at 10 PM each evening, you'll hear a great many people say regarding a bad situation… "I know it isn't right, but what can I do about it?"

I say this, that anyone can start right from where he is to raise the standards of such vital sphere of influence as local and Provincial Government, and education. An alert, and informed public is democracy’s greatest strength. A vigilant citizenry CAN, SHOULD and MUST be aware of, and make every effort to correct such injustices as may be found right under our noses. We often hear our friends south of the border, soundly and roundly condemned for their attitudes on racial inequality, yet how few of us do anything about similar problems which exist right here in our own city. Perhaps it's because we lack confidence in our own deepest convictions, and therefore adopt the often spoken attitude… "What can I do about it?” If you feel this way, just remember that our democratic system is like a chain, it is only as strong as its weakest link. You are a link… just as important as any other link. Our country needs your strength, and needs it badly. When your time comes to be heard, be it on a platform, through a letter to the editor, a call to your radio station, or in the voting booth, say what you have to say and say it with conviction. Remember, regardless of the issue, you CAN do something about it.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, September 18, 1961

John Barton and I were talking the other day about the kind of world in which our children are growing up. We were lamenting the fact that there were so many things about which these kids would not know. To mention just a few. Did you ever spend a cold winter night on a farm, and off in the distance, when the night was dark and cold, you'd hear the whistle of a train, a long and lonely whistle that would trigger all kinds of wonderful dreams. You hear that lonesome wail as you snuggled deeper into the feather tick and you’d wonder where the train was going and what famous people might be aboard. Well, that great sound is gone forever. It has been replaced by something that could be a bus horn or a truck, a big ugly puff of sound that just hasn't the appeal of the old train whistle. John mentioned too that our kids have never seen a street car. That means they've never had the great fun of flipping trolleys. Boy that used to be our favorite outdoor sport up on 124th St. at 8th Avenue. All you had to do was pull the guy wire that was attached to the post supporting the trolley wires, and off would pop the trolley. Sounds silly now but it was great fun then. Oh – there are a lot of things our kids will miss, things like running boards where you could hang on while your dad drove the car at 10 miles an hour… rumble seats, where are you stay even if you froze to death… the friendly warm flicker of a coal oil lamp on your grandpa's farm… wind up Victrola's and open Tiger Moth airplanes where you could actually SEE the pilot and you'd always wave but he’d NEVER wave back. Yes… these things our kids will never know. Somehow today I get the feeling that everything is moving too fast… or am I just slowing up.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, February 3, 1964

You know doubt have seen these wig hats advertised. They come in a variety of colors ranging from exciting jet black to platinum blonde. You can comb and brush them into all kinds of chic styles and from 10 paces back they look like real hair. I thought they were pretty silly until one day recently. I was sitting waiting for my wife in a department store. Close by, on the table, where the wig hats. As I sat there a pretty young lady approached the table. She could not have been more than 19. Her youthful husband was with her. She was carrying a wee baby. She was shabbily dressed and her own lovely hair hung unkempt to her shoulders. She paused, looked at the wigs, then handed the baby to her husband. On her head she fit a platinum blonde wig and then began to style it. For 10 minutes she was completely oblivious to everyone who passed by as she deftly styled the wig into a most becoming style. In spite of her shabby clothing she looked delightfully excited as she shaped the wig into tight little curls about her face. Her husband, more than a little embarrassed, looked on with the baby in his arms. At last it was correct. She stood back, looked in the mirror, and for a few minutes escaped from the monotony of her drab life. She was a movie star, a debutante, a princess, a femme fatale. And then in the moment, it was over. She removed the wig, ran her hands through her hair, took her child into her arms and was gone. I thought to myself, for a few moments, that silly wig hat made her life an exciting thing. I decided that moment to never again disparage these strange items sold to brighten the lives of ordinary women.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Tuesday, February 11, 1964

A very close friend of mine is expecting a child. Her husband and I were discussing the matter and I made the comment that it almost seems wrong to bring a child into this war threatened world. My friend looked at me and then took a book from his bookcase; thumbed through it, and handed it to me. On the opened page there were some lines under which pencil lines had been drawn. The underlined portion read: "Women know instinctively even when echoing male glory stuff, that communities live, not by slaughter and death, but by creating life and nursing it to its highest possibilities." My friends, those words by George Bernard Shaw are so true. There never has been a time throughout our turbulent history when women gave up hope, and stop having little ones. Come wars, come floods, come storms, come famine, come pestilence, women know that life must go on. No man worth his salt can spare an hour or two in a maternity ward without gaining a deep and lasting respect for womanhood; for even though we seek new and terrible ways to destroy one another, women go on creating life and nursing it to its highest potential.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I suppose most of us have times in our lives when we give in to the burden of worry. Life can be difficult, and to be sure there are many things about which we should all be concerned. However if you are like me you fret over what has passed and you worry over what may happen in the future. Foolish, isn't it? All the worry in the world cannot bring back one dead yesterday. It's over and done with. As for tomorrow, where is our stake in it? The sun may come up clear and bright, or it may be haze over with cloud but one thing is for sure, it WILL come up. Until it does we have no claim upon the day it ushers in. That leaves us with only today. SURELY we can work things out for that small period of time. I know what you are saying, "It's easier said than done." This I know for I have lost the battle to useless worry more times than I care to remember. I have found a slogan of Dale Carnegie's very helpful however, and I'd like to pass it onto you. As you mouth this little phrase think about it. Consider the wisdom of it and see if tomorrow you can't beat the worry habit. When you feel you can no longer cope just say to yourself “THERE NEVER HAS BEEN A DAY I COULDN’T GET THROUGH.” Try it. Don't expect miracles, but do give it an opportunity to help you. Remember that today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday. You'll get through this day because “THERE NEVER HAS BEEN A DAY I COULDN’T GET THROUGH.”

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I wonder how many of you noticed a small article in a recent copy of Time magazine. It was headed “A-plus for Little Rock". In part, the article said this. "In Little Rock, Arkansas, once a source of worldwide embarrassment to the US, some 70 Negro students now peacefully attend integrated schools." The article went on to state that one young Negro girl had become the first of her race to be accepted by the Little Rock chapter of the National Honor Society, an organization that brings together the brightest young people in high school for the purpose of tutoring others. This young Negro girl was among the top 10% in her class and together with a spotless record of service, leadership and character, had an A+ scholastic average. Pretty encouraging story is it. Yet it was almost buried in Time magazine. What is it about our society that demands or dictates that constructive worthwhile stories be relegated to the back pages of our papers and magazines, while the stories of terror, intolerance and hatred hit the headlines? There is no doubt about it, the US was embarrassed when Little Rock was a scene of race riots a short time ago. The headlines were full of it the world over. It seems only logical that someone in power would give equal space to the very happy outcome of integration in that city. If the US was once embarrassed over Little Rock, she can now be proud of that city and its success in the field of human relations, and yet, if the current news coverage of the situation is any criterion, no one really cares. To me there is something very wrong in all this.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

There is a current trend among standup comics to get their laughs at the expense of their wives. I really don't like to see this. As one comic put it recently – – behind every good man, there's a woman… nagging him on. I would have accepted the statement had he not added the last three words. He wouldn't have got his laugh, but he would have uttered a great truism. When the late Fritz Kreisler was honored on his 85th birthday for "distinguished and exceptional service" as a violinist and citizen, he bowed deeply in the direction of his wife, Harriet. Then Mr. Kreisler paid public tribute to her by saying, "Without the constant guidance, advice and help of my dear wife… I would not have achieved one half of the things I am said to achieve." If we men were honest, I think we could all say this. A good, honest, loving wife can make a bad man better and make a good man great. 

The business world today can be a pretty lonely place for a fellow. There are so many times when his confidence is shaken; so many occasions on which he like to give up the fight. If he can go home to that one person in the whole wide world to whom he doesn't have to prove himself, he will get the strength to return refreshed in spirit, to the task that lies ahead. One of the great Canadian tragedies is that we men so seldom let our wives know just how important they are to us. Whether we are musicians, scientists, bookkeepers or farmers we should let our wives know that we depend on them for more than they may realize.

Originally broadcast n CHED radio - Date unknown

A story came out of a small American town last month that started me thinking. It seems that house wreckers were busy tearing down a home. They had removed half the roof and part of a wall, when the owner of the home drove by. He rushed in and confronted the wreckers. They checked with head office and sure enough, they were in the wrong house. They should have been working two blocks away. You know, there is a great lesson here. Are we not all just a little too anxious to "tear down" before we know all the facts? Make doubly sure to check, double check and check again before you take any actions that may destroy the property or reputation of another. How much better to seek out every opportunity to "build" rather than to "teardown". Why not highlight all the good that is to be found in the world instead of rushing in on unsure ground to proceed to “teardown".

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Thursday, December 7, 1960

The other night I went to the Sunday school annual Christmas concert. It was just like a million other Sunday school Christmas concerts put on by the kiddies of a million other churches around the world… a wonderful, warm, human, amusing, delightful affair produced by a lot of very patient Sunday school teachers and featuring a lot of little knee-high to a grasshopper actors and actresses.

It's a funny thing, but I always come away from a Sunday school concert with a great feeling of contentment inside me. I think it stems from far-reaching thoughts about my own childhood. I can think back to the concerts I was in… and you know… the concert the other night could have taken place last year… 10 years ago… 20… 30… 40 years ago, with nothing changed but the building… a purely physical thing. The shining faces… the forgotten lines… the shy blasters… the deep sincerity… the warmth of little children's voices… the purity… the simple reverence… these things are constant. I think that's what affects me about Christmas concerts. In this mad, frantic, hectic, dog-eat-dog progressive world, here is something unchanged, and unchangeable. A child's enactment of the birth of Christ. If a man needs a lifeline to hold fast to when he thinks all else is lost… send him to a children's Sunday school Christmas concert. There he will find something that is honest to God in the truest sense of the word. "And a little child shall lead them.”

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

How to Stop Worrying and Start Living was written by Dale Carnegie and is indeed a worthwhile volume. You'll find nothing in the book you don't know right now, but, being human, we need a reminder now and then to get our thinking back on the track. Here are a few random comments by Carnegie on yesterday, today and tomorrow.

There are two days in every week about which we should not worry, two days kept free from fear and apprehension. One of these days is yesterday with its mistakes and cares and blunders; it's aches and pains. Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control. All the money in the world cannot bring it back. We cannot undo a single act we performed; we cannot erase a single word we said. Yesterday is gone. The other day we should not worry about is tomorrow with its possible adversities, it's burdens, it's large promises and poor performance. Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control. Tomorrow's sun will rise either in splendor or behind a cloud, but it will rise. Until it does, we have no stake in tomorrow, for it is as yet unborn. This leaves only one day – – today. Any man can fight the battles of just one day. It is only when you add the burdens of yesterday and tomorrow that you break down. It is not the experience of today that drives men men – – it is remorse or bitterness for some thing which happened yesterday and the dread of what tomorrow will bring. Lettuce, therefore, live but one day at a time.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

Ladies, just listen to this. These ideas and more were presented to Washington DC homemakers during a recent pilot program, “Modernize Your Homemaking Ideas", sponsored by the American Home Economics Association and the National Association of Homebuilders. Here's what's in store for you girls. Paper clothing to be worn once, then thrown away. A scanning lock on the front door that will open when it senses the fingerprints of members of the family. A device which you can install in the duct of your furnace which will chemically deodorize your home. Closed circuit home TV sets which will show a stores merchandise at the press of a button. Throwaway plastic dishes which you can mold yourselves with home molding sets. Ultrasonic closet which will automatically rid your clothing of every bit of dirt. Those are just a few of the things science has been working on to make you a happier homemaker in 1982 - – a few more of the gadgets with which you can clutter up your home. Unfortunately, there was no device shown at the meeting that will automatically provide love and understanding for your mate. Nothing was displayed which will cut the divorce rate or ensure a drop in the delinquency rate. There was no button to push which will provide peace of mind or complete contentment. They didn't even come up with a lever, the pulling of which would put you one step ahead of the Joneses! It is comforting to know, however, that the gadgetry which has even now corroded the soul of mankind is about to enter on a whole new era. I cannot help but wonder how much my great, great grandmother ever remained happy for 85 years back there on the old Homestead. Give me freedom – – and let the gadgets go by the wayside!

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

Certain melodies are destined to live forever. Others which at first hearing we find equally entrancing and quickly lose their appeal. They don't "wear well". Many people are like that. When we first meet them they are delightful; a joy to be with, and joy to behold. Then, little by little, something happens until one day we end up asking ourselves what first attracted us. 

It is not that these folks lost the good qualities we found so desirable. No. It is that, with growing familiarity, they deemed it less necessary to be "on their good behavior" with us. Gradually they permitted the tiny unpolished facets of their characters to seep to the surface. We caught glimpses of hate and greed, of meanness and jealousy, which shocked and repelled us. 

So never let your guard down. The moment you feel pent up emotions seethe upward and outward, the moment you feel an uncontrollable urge to complain, go off somewhere by yourself until the crisis subsides. Never, never permit yourself to use friends as sounding boards. So to the rule: "Put your best foot forward," let us add: "and keep it there!”

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

Gone is the laughter, gone are the tears, 

What has become of those "in between" years, 

The old family house stands deserted and bare, 

Oh where are the joys that used to live there.

It was 20 years last autumn, when I bid them all goodbye, 

And though she tried to hide it, there was a tear in mothers eye,

I was the first one leaving, and though it hurt my Ma, 

There was still three other young ones, at home with her and Pa, 

But the years pass by so quickly, one by one they said farewell, 

Jim and Burt moved to the city, Homer Johnson married Mel, 

And before they knew what happened, there was only mom and dad, 

And all those years of laughter turned into something sad.

Gone is the laughter, gone are the tears, 

What has become of those "in between" years, 

The old family house stands deserted and bare, 

Oh where are the joys that used to live there,

I was somewhere east of Cheyenne when I heard that Pa had died. 

With that little gray haired lady sitting faithful by his side, 

And they said that she died with him, everything she loved was gone, 

But with a courage deep inside her, she somehow managed on, 

Today up to the church yard, I took a lonely ride, 

And saw where they had laid her, close by my father side, 

And one thought will always haunt me, as o’er the world I roam, 

When I knew how much she needed me, why didn't I go home.

Gone is the laughter, gone are the tears, 

What has become of those "in between" years, 

The old family house stands deserted and bare, 

Oh where are the joys that used to live there.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I spent a very interesting evening recently with a young lawyer who had grown up in a small town in Georgia. Our conversation quickly got around to the integration problem and he told me that growing up where he had, he could not help but be exposed to anti-Negro sentiment. Yet this man had the situation in perfect perspective. I asked him how his attitudes on the matter had been developed. He said "Civil rights and race relations didn't concern me until one Saturday night when I was about 16 years old." He was working in his fathers store and he looked out at the throngs of milling tenant farmers, white and Negro who congregated in the town square, a rural southern Saturday ritual. The man said "I looked at the Negroes and asked myself how many I'd like to have in my home. The answer was none - – they were too dirty, too different, too poor, too smelly. But then,” he continued, "I looked at the white sharecroppers and decided that for the same reason, I wouldn't want to associate with them either. That was the moment I realize that the problem of human relations had no basis in race or color but rather, in the condition of the people. That's when I saw that there wouldn't be any real progress in human relations until the human conditions have been improved.” Pretty tall thoughts for a 16-year-old boy. Tall and true. Until such time as we can solve the terrible problems of human suffering the world over, we can never come to true interracial harmony.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

You know we learn some of life's lessons in the strangest ways. I remember when I was just a kid, I was singing a difficult Italian duet with a young lady at a concert. It was during the winter and the hall was stifling hot and stuffy. About halfway through the number I felt sick and dizzy and was sure I was going to have to stop singing and get to the door for some fresh air. When I had just about decided I couldn't go on, my young partner stopped singing and one look at her told me she was just as sick as I was. But now it became impossible to stop. From somewhere came the strength to go on. I sang on alone until she regained composure and we finished the song together. 

That must have been close to 25 years ago, but I still remember that night, because it showed me so clearly that when you figure you can't go on, even one step more, you are given strength to continue, if you will but except it. That occasion showed me too, but when someone is depending on you, you just can't let them down, even when you are convinced that the courage and strength to continue is not in you. 

Throughout our lives, we look to each other for help and assistance. And though on so many occasions, we feel we cannot carry our own burdens, let alone those of someone else. We can do it if we'll but try. 

Yes, it's funny how an experience during your tender years will stick with you for the rest of your life. In just about two minutes, so many years ago in the Westmount Community Hall, I learned a lesson I'll never forget, a lesson that has helped me and will help me all my life.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

If you watch the Jack Parr show, you have probably seen Alexander King. He is an amazing individual who has certainly lived life to the fullest. He is the author of three most entertaining books, the second of which is entitled May This House Be Safe From Tigers. I would like to recommend this paperback to you. It is not only highly amusing, but there is in its pages a great deal of common sense and wisdom. I am sure Mr. King will not mind if I quote a portion of his book. The author receives many letters from people who want his advice on life and living. Concerning getting the most out of our brief stay on this earth he says, "Kids, it's a big hassle for everybody. There are no graphs to study and no charts to follow on the road to death. The best advice I can give you is this; try to please yourself. You'll go wrong, of course, but you'll have the satisfaction that something, no matter how small, paid off for a couple of minutes, for you at least. I also think it's a good idea not to work at something you hate. You ought to have a little spare hate left over for the trials that life is going to dish up for you anyway. Don't waste it on your job. I considered that reckless and improvident." End of quote. I think Mr. King has something there. We do owe ourselves some happiness in this life and it would be very nice to come to the end of our days happy in the knowledge that something worked out right for us, even if for a little while.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

There was an old Shoemaker who used to run a shop near my home. He was referred to as the man who returned from the dead. You see, he was found in his shop one day slumped over his machines. A doctor was called and he pronounced him dead. On the way to the mortuary, the attendant noticed life. He was rushed to the hospital where in two days time he was on the road to recovery. Such incidents are rare, thank goodness, but I think such a happening points out that many of us are too hasty in writing someone off as "lost". I have a friend who will always give a man another chance. When the rest of the world has finally turned its back on a person, this gentleman will give a man one more chance. True, the people he helps often let him down, but by the same token, his helping hand has guided many sad cases back from the very brink of self destruction. I think this man feels compelled to act as he does because he himself was picked up out of the gutter many years ago by someone else who refused to write off a human soul. I think there must be no greater reward in life than restoring a man's self-respect. 

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

Perhaps you read about "the tap" in your local newspaper. It was a hot and humid day in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. It was the day they cracked the color bar at the University of Alabama; the day two handsome young colored students, accompanied by federal marshals had their confrontation with Governor George Wallace. The lesser principles in this true life drama, newsmen, photographers, state troopers and observers stood about the buildings in the broiling heat. Someone noticed a water tap protruding from the side of the registration building. This tap, on this hot, humid day, became a facility of great importance. People doused their heads under it. They drank from it, they wet handkerchiefs under it to wrap around their heads. The tap became a social center; a point of contact between newsmen and the tough state troopers who were there to back up their determined boss while he made his stand at the front door to the university. The area around the tap was no man's land where the admission that one man can get as hot and thirsty as another allowed a little humility to seep into the relationship of each faction. Small talk was exchanged and around the tap the solemn mood was less acute. Into this scene walked two Negro photographers from the north, as hot and thirsty as the rest. They went to the tap and drank from it. A line of troopers standing nearby frowned upon them but did not molest them. A few moments later however the handle of the tap was removed and taken away and then no one, black or white, could get relief from thirst or the heat. For another 2 1/2 hours black and white suffered for the lack of water. Such is the logic of prejudice.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Tuesday, August 4, 1964

You know after you've been married a few years, it's fun to look back at all the ideas you had when you led the little lady to the altar. Years of bending, changing, adjusting, compromising has altered your outlook on a good many things, and it's amazing how unimportant some of your biggest dreams of years ago have become. I am always bewildered when a marriage breaks up during the first year or so. Shucks, you don't even know each other until you've been married for five or six years, and when you DO get to really KNOW what makes each other tick, your life can become pretty rich in happiness. But marriage is like everything else that's good. It's no snap… it's not a walk… it's darn serious business and believe me you have to work on making it a success. After you strip off all the pink clouds and moon beams and sit down across the breakfast table with the same face you'll look at under the same circumstances for the rest of your life, then and only then can you start working on the REAL, GENUINE ingredients of a marriage. Love, honor and respect. Yes… marriage is hard work… but it can be wonderful if you're willing to make it a two way deal. So all of you youngsters, and some of your oldsters who are thinking of packing it up… before you do that, why not just "give" a little here and there and settle down to MAKING it work. Remember… nothing worthwhile was ever gained without a little fight and heartache.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

In his book, How to Stop Worrying and Start Living, Author Dale Carnegie mentions his "F. T. D." file. "F. T. D." Stands for Foolish Things I have Done. Into this file Carnegie put a written account of all the stupid, useless, foolish things he had done. When he dug out the "F. T. D." file, which he did on a regular basis, and re-read the criticism he had written of himself, it helped him in the toughest job he has to face; the management of Dale Carnegie. For years Carnegie was just like you and me. He blamed most of his troubles on other people. As he grew older and wiser however he came to the painful conclusion that he himself was the author of most of his own misfortune. A great many people have discovered that fact as they grow older. Even Napoleon came to admit this fact when he said at Saint Helena, "No one but myself can be blamed for my fall. I have been my own greatest enemy – – the cause of my own disastrous fate." Well, if we are to be honest with ourselves, I think we are truly the architects of our own destiny. Most of us spend a good part of our lives falling into pits we have dug ourselves. I'm not so sure that keeping a "F. T. D." file is a bad idea. Man, if he is to grow spiritually, emotionally and intellectually, must from time to time indulge in a little introspection. When a man can look at himself and his life under the critical glass of self examination, and conclude that there are many, many occasions on which he was just a plain fool, then and only then can he feel prepared to come to grips honestly with the many problems that from time to time confront us all.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

You hear and read a great deal these days about the lack of moral fiber in our teenagers. Papers and magazines chronicle the antics of these young people and predict terrible ends for an entire generation. I read these reports with a grain of salt. At age 40 I can sort of stand in the middle and look both forward and backward. I can easily remember the things that were written and said about the youngsters with whom I went to school. We t0o were a "lost" generation and yet when the bugle sounded the same young men who had been involved in street brawls; who had kept the Parsons daughter out till two; who had "borrowed" a fellows car without his knowledge; who had got a little high on Saturday night; these same boys acquitted themselves rather well. They died on the beaches and in the cockpits and on the high seas like the brave young man they were. Like today's youngsters we were looking for a cause and a cause we found. I feel sure that today's teenagers, if they are called upon to serve, will distinguish themselves as did my generation. Our only prayer should be that the call is to the service and betterment, rather than the destruction of mankind.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Tuesday September 6, 1960

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

Wee Gerry went to school today, 

And him just over five. 

And he looked so small and tender 

As he walked off down the drive. 

But he took the hand of Gordie

And he held the hand of Mart, 

As I looked out on the three of them 

It near to broke my heart. 

He cut the queerest figure, 

So small and pale and thin.

But he walked along determined 

With his toes turned in. 

I watched them to the corner 

Where he stopped to pat old Mac 

And I wanted so to call them 

To bring my baby back. 

But they went on to the corner, 

And as they passed it by 

I could see wee Gerry crying, 

And - I confess - so was I.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

Some of you may have seen a recent television interview with Pierre Berton and Al Kapp, that talented humorous man who creates Li'l Abner. During the course of the interview Kapp discussed his "wooden leg". He prefers this earthy term for his artificial limb to those more modern and more socially acceptable terms for such appendages. Kapp related a story of a visit to the lake John Foster Dulles, who was then Secretary of State. Just as he entered the Secretary of States office, his entire lower artificial limb fell apart. He looked back to see the thing sitting in the middle of the floor. Nuts and bolts and straps kept falling out of his vacant pant leg. Kapp clung to another member of the party until they could get some help in putting the limb together again. To Al Kapp, this was one of the most humorous situations of his life. They called for an ambulance to get him to a hospital. He insisted they get a truck to take him to the nearest garage. There is a great lesson here good friends if you will but heed it. We all have difficulties, deficiencies and shortcomings. We all have things with which we must live. When we get to the point where we can LAUGH at these shortcomings, then we have arrived at the point where we can successfully cope with them. I know this is easy to say and hard to do, but Kapp has learned that there is not a single thing he can do about the loss of one leg. For that reason he has accepted the situation. Once that was done, the battle was half over. I had a friend who made his life miserable because he was so ashamed of the fact he was going bald. A very patient and loving wife convinced him, over a period of years, that his lack of hair was attractive. He learned to accept his baldness and today deeply regrets the fact that for so long it robbed him of so much happiness. Regardless of your own shortcomings, remember this. You can live with it…. if you can laugh at it.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

When the late Marilyn Monroe passed away the newspapers and magazines had a field day. They pictured her a terribly mixed up, miserable person and indeed she must have been. I found her death a genuine tragedy. I wonder how many people upon hearing of her passing would reflect on the society that produced this beautiful, unfortunate young woman. To millions of women in the world over she had everything – – wealth, beauty, success, and talent. To those laboring day by day in their kitchens and offices it was inconceivable that she could be anything but happy. And yet, like so many successful people, she was miserable; the product of a society that knows the price of everything in the value of nothing. To me it is our shame that we do not begin at the cradle to teach our children that success cannot be equated with money, fame and material things. And yet we continue to accumulate and to worship the very materialism that is destroying us. I think it would be an excellent idea if with each birth certificate issued we gave a small wall plaque inscribed with these words by one of the great geniuses of our age, Albert Einstein.

“Be a man of value, not a man of success. 

For value does nothing but GIVE, while success is mostly taking.”

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

His name was Michael Douglas. Chances are you've never heard of him, but he had his moment of glory, and a great moment it was too. Michael, a 15 year old boy, was fishing off the wharf at Cocoa Beach, Florida. Surf fishing is a popular sport in this area and you can never be sure what will take that bait on the end of your line. It was three in the afternoon when Mike got a strike and from the pull on his hand he knew he'd hook into a big one. At that moment the fight was on and what a battle it turned out to be. For the fish that Mike had hooked was a gigantic jewfish that was estimated to weigh in excess of 300 pounds. Mike fought with that monster for the rest of the day, on through the night, and into the next day. For 33 hours he did his best to land his catch but no dice. The slender, plucky boy refused offers of help because he felt a real sportsman had to land his catch by himself. He refused a swivel chair, turned down an offer to go out in a boat and rejected a suggestion that the fish be shot. "It became a personal thing," Mike said. "This was something I wanted very badly but I wanted to play fair to get it." Over 10,000 people showed up at the pier to watch the battle and offer what encouragement they could to the lad. At the end of 33 tiring hours, the fish won out over the boy and the battle was over. I imagine that young lad learned a lesson that he'll never forget. There are times in all our lives when we give everything we have to the task, play the game as fairly as we can, and still lose the battle. It's at this point but the real man lies down to bleed awhile, then rises to fight, or fish, again.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I opened the door of the old farmhouse very gently, and there she sat by the stove, in an old rocking chair. She was mending a sock: the heavy kind that men wear around the farm, though there were no longer any men folk about. I looked at that little old lady long and hard… and tears came into my eyes. Why had been so long? She seemed so very small… so fragile… so terribly weary… and as her fingers worked slowly with the wool, weaving it over the hole in the sock, the roughness would catch the fibers of the wool and she'd frown a little and glance at those wrinkled little hands. I had to come home. It had been three… no, four years. I had just returned from the concrete jungles of the city… the boulevards of big schemes and broken dreams… my own world of board rooms… cocktail parties… sleeping pills to go to sleep… stimulants to wake up… the mad main street of big business where the mark of success was the loss of identity in a gray flannel suit… where even your name was shortened to just two initials. I had thought myself a success coming out in my new car. The big man comes home. I had thrown behind me modest birth… the uncolored background of a simple farm boy and had broken the $20,000 barrier at 37. And then I saw her… my mother. I looked down upon this gentle little woman, who in her 82 years had tilled the soil beside her man, gathered eggs… milked cows… spun wool… carried chop… drove a team at thrashing time… cooked for all the hands… and raised 12 babies, not counting three that died. And what did she have to show for it? What has she got from all those years of backbreaking work? What has life left this little old lady in the rocking chair? Again I studied her as she sat there; again, tears came to my eyes and then it came to me. My mother, there in the rocking chair… 82 years old… is a very happy woman for she has the one thing I so badly need and will never have. She has peace of mind… she has serenity.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I love Yorkshire pudding. In fact I have said on many occasions that there really is no such thing as a bad Yorkshire pudding. Some are just better than others. Furthermore I KNOW about Yorkshire pudding because my wife makes the worst Yorkshire pudding in the world. Ever since we were married this fine woman has attempted to turn out a crisp, brown, succulent pudding. Time and again she has failed. One week the pudding will look and taste like a pizza crust. The next week it will rise and resemble a bath sponge. On the next try it will come out like a Neolite shoe sole. Each time I eat it without complaint. I figure this way. As long as my wife remains undefeated; as long as she continues to try to create this wonderful putting, I shall continue to eat it. When there is an improvement in the pudding I have to stifle the urge to rally the kids around the table and yell "Let's really hear it for good old mom!" On the next try, however, we're right back where we started. Of this I am sure: before we celebrate our golden wedding anniversary, this little woman will have mastered Yorkshire pudding. Like they say in prizefighting, if you WONT be beaten, you can't be beaten”.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

What builds a happy home? What builds a happy country? What builds a happy world? 

Well, that's a big question and the contributing factors to happiness are many, but I feel one of 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, frictions 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 teenage boy about anything under the sun, or that a 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 advice, 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 only I had 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’ll 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 CHED radio - Date unknown

I've known Blinkey Dekker all my life. We went to school together and he was in my outfit during the war. After the war Blinkey and I settled in the same city and we've been good friends ever since. I feel sorry for Blinkey because he has gone through his entire life without taking a chance on anything. When we were kids we had a swing tied to a tree out by a creek near the city. One by one we’d grab the rope and swing away out over the water then back to the shore. Now and then one of the lads would drop into the drink, but it was pretty thrilling business for 10-year-old boys. Blinkey never tried it. He wanted to, he said, but he didn't take a chance. I remember once during the winter when five of us decided to go over a little ski jump on a toboggan. We imagined ourselves flying through the air with the greatest of ease to the slope below. We all tried it, except Blinkey. He never stole a kiss from a girl, played hookey from school, flipped a street car trolley, smoked leaves twisted up in newspaper, let air out of the preachers tires or any of those things young boys do. During four years of service, Blinkey again was a bystander. When the rest of us would go ashore for a well-deserved blowout, Blinkey would stay on the base and wait for us to return so we can tell him about the time we'd had. I met Blinkey just a week ago and he was telling me that he had a good chance to enlarge his little business but he didn't want to risk taking a loan from the bank. Well, I guess we all know a Blinkey. I'm not suggesting kids do all the crazy things we did, but I would like to remind them that life is the sum total of all your experiences and you only get one time around. So live a little while you can. What a pity to get to the point where you walk down memory lane, but you don't have a single thing to remember.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I saw my first diamond in the rough the other day. The stone was in its natural state, uncut and unpolished and I must confess, I was not impressed. The jeweler who showed it to me held up beside it another stone which sparkled and glittered and had all the qualities of a fine gem. "Which would you take?" He asked me. I replied, "The finished stone, of course." That "finished stone” was a $40 zircon. The rough stone was valued at over $12,000. I thought to myself, how typical of the human race. Isn't it true that few of us ever recognize a diamond in the rough. We want all the polish, the show, the glitter and glamour of the finished stone, not because it is more valuable, but simply because it LOOKS more impressive. We don't really care about values anymore. It's the impression that counts, and so we surround ourselves with ostentation and accept without protest or complaint cars, washers, refrigerators, clothes, homes and yes, even friends, who will be out of date in less than 12 months time. As Oscar Wilde said, "We know the price of everything and the value of nothing." I talked to a young minister of the gospel the other day. He told me there was one subject he couldn't speak on. That subject was "peace of mind." There must be a lesson there somewhere, but I wonder if there will be any among us who will slow up long enough to discover what it might be. One thing is for sure, our values need some readjustment. Somehow we must again base our acceptance of things on "worth" rather than surface appearance.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Thursday, January 30, 1964

There is an old truism that says, "Never criticize the man who stumbles until you've worn his shoes." I remember when I was very young I had a pretty clear-cut view of right and wrong. As I grew older, I realized that it is not often easy to tell what is right or wrong, at least not where some other person is concerned. In the course of a lifetime, there are many occasions when the right course as it may appear to an outsider, is the wrong course when all the circumstances surrounding the situation come to light. Yet so many of us are fast to condemn another person on the basis of what appears to be. I have a friend who has taken it upon himself to stand judgment on the entire public morality. He has never learned compassion because frankly, he has never had occasion in his own life to require compassion and he has never needed the benefit of the doubt. Strangely, his life has been virtually trouble free. He's had a happy marriage and produced a large and healthy family. You would think this in itself would make him a happy, grateful and satisfied man, but instead he sees himself cast in the role of the Almighty, and is the first to condemn the person who falls from the straight and narrow. He seems to feel this sort of thing could never happen to him and could never happen to his family. I would hate to be as vulnerable as he is, for it's a long road without a turning, and surely there will be an occasion in his life when his friends and relatives will have to take a few things on trust and give him the benefit of the doubt. I have had many ups and downs in my life. I have often taken the unpopular course, but always I have done what I thought had to be done. This I think has made a bigger and better man of me for now I fully understand that along with black and white, there are many, many shades of gray, and I try very hard never to criticize the man who stumbles. You see, I've worn his shoes.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I had a good friend during the war who was an officer aboard the Princess Helene which ran between Digby, Nova Scotia and St. John, New Brunswick. I made that crossing many times, but I shall never forget one crossing we had in December of 1943. We pulled out of Harbour about seven in the morning and before we were 10 minutes out, the weather turned as bad as I had ever seen it on the Atlantic coast. One of the worst storms in history hit the area and for four hours the ship was tossed and pitched about like a small piece of driftwood. The waves ran mountain high, and with every lunge it felt like the ship was going to break up. I talked to my friend and confess that I was somewhat apprehensive. I shall never forget his words. He said, "Don't worry, the captain knows where he is going!" I have thought about that crossing many times since then for on that morning I learned that if you know where you are going, and you are determined to get there, all the storms in the world won't stop you. Sure, the rough waters will come, and the tides will run high. You will be buffeted until you are convinced that the next blast will send you under, but if you keep the course in mind, and the destinations firm, you will make it. Let the storm come, let the wind blow, let the waves pound. You are the captain of your soul and with God’s help you will make harbor safely.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - June 8, 1960

I wonder how many of you ladies listening to me this morning think of your sex is being quite remarkable. The other night while driving home very late, I was listening to the news on the radio in my car and all the news was bad. Wars, rumors of wars, revolt, revolutions, satellites, missiles, death and destruction. And then I passed the Royal Alex Maternity Hospital, and up in the case rooms many lights were burning. New lives were being brought into this troubled world, by women like you. George Bernard Shaw once said, "Women know instinctively, even when they are echoing male glory stuff, that communities live, not by slaughter and death, but by creating life and nursing it to its highest possibilities”. My friend, isn't that true. There never has been a time in this troubled world when things got so black that women folk gave up hope and stopped having little ones. Come wars, come floods, come storms, come strife, come hatred, come what may, women know that life must go on. The men continue to scheme and devise ways and means to destroy life, women go on creating new lives to love, teach, and nurse to their highest possibilities.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I sat at my typewriter recently hoping an idea would come for one of these short inspirational articles. My eyes wandered and I noticed a small boy perched on a high board fence across the way. He dangled his legs over the side of the fence as if to jump, then pulled them back again. He sat a few moments, then again prepared to make the leap, and again retreated. Finally he bit his lower lip, through his legs over the side and down he plunged to the ground below. He got up, brushed himself off and whistling happily trotted off down the street. He had met the challenge of the high fence and in spite of his fear had made the jump and one more obstacle to growing up was behind him. You know childhood is a time of faith and energy. Each challenge as it comes along is met and overcome. But as we grow older we often lose our zest for meeting and beating the things that stand in our way impeding our progress. Instead of overcoming these obstacles, we move cautiously around them, avoiding them completely if we can. This is unfortunate, for if life remains a challenge; if we have the heart and the zest for life we see in small children, then indeed we never ever really grow old. Regardless of your years, youth is yours as long as you meet and regard each day as a delightful and rewarding experience.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I'm going to plead the case of mothers-in-law today. Every time you turn on your TV these days, you see some standup comic getting his laughs at the expense of his mother-in-law. "We had a blessed event at our house last night. My mother-in-law went home." "Just Molly and me, and her mother makes three, we are fighting in my blue heaven." “My mother-in-law arrived last night… on the 10:30 broom." You've heard them all. Let me ask you this. When the baby comes down with some sickness, who do you call? When a recipe goes sour and you want to find out what you did wrong, who gets the phone call? When you want to spend a weekend out of town and you need someone to care for three little kids, whose name comes up for guard duty? When your own kitchen is bare, who is it that invites you over for Sunday dinner? Who knits the first sweater for the baby, and who never forgets a gift when she's returning home from a trip. You know as I know, that the answer to all of these questions is, your mother-in-law. And still she is the favorite subject for abuse. Well, maybe she's used to it. Maybe it all rolls off like water off a ducks back. Nevertheless, don't you feel it is about time we all let up on the mothers in law? Just remember, there may come a day when you too will be a mother-in-law. Let's start giving this precious woman her rightful place in our homes and our hearts.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

Many of you will remember the late Dean Grant Sparling. I was very fond of this warm, outgoing Christian gentleman. He had a favorite saying which he passed on to me on one occasion, a saying which has seen me through some pretty trying days. He used to say "When you reach the end of your rope… tie a knot in it and hang on." Let me repeat that, "When you reach the end of your rope… tie a knot in it and hang on.” How often have you wanted to give up, to let go? How often have you felt you just couldn't carry the load any longer? We all feel this way sooner or later in life. But you know, it takes very little courage to quit. The courage comes when you get up off your knees to go another round regardless of the odds and while facing the fact that you quite conceivably might be knocked down again. But the spirit of man goes down hard, and springs from ruin quickly, and deep within each and every one of us, there is, I feel, a great deal more strength than any of us imagine. If, today, you feel licked, if you feel there isn't any fight left in you, if you want to give up so badly you can taste it – just glide for a while. Rest if you must, my friend, but DO NOT QUIT. And above all, burn that little saying in your mind as it is burned in mine. I hope it helps you through the training times as it has helped me. “WHEN YOU REACH THE END OF YOUR ROPE, TIE A KNOT IN IT AND HANG ON!”

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

Shortly before his death, Ernest Hemingway said this, "To regret one's errors to the point of not repeating them is true repentance. There is nothing noble in being superior to some other man. The true nobility is being superior to your previous self." My goodness how true that is and how hard that lesson comes to us all. In our business and social lives we are all too quick to criticize the other fellow. Without full knowledge of the facts we hasten to condemn and to malign. Often we kid ourselves into feeling very superior as we speak unkindly of someone who has stumbled and fallen. How much better it would be if first we cleaned up the shadowy areas of our own lives. How much bigger we would be if we tried only to become a better person today than we were yesterday. How much less heartbreak and suffering would there be in the world if in all areas of living we competed not with one another, but only with ourselves. The next time you are tempted to level an unkind accusation or to repeat an unkind rumor in the hopes of putting yourself in a superior light, reflect a little on what Hemingway said. "There is nothing noble in being superior to some other man. True nobility is being superior to your previous self.”

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I attended a very important birthday party last month. My favorite uncle was 90 years old. One might expect a gentleman of those years to quietly receive close family at his fireside on the occasion, but not sold my uncle. He opened his modest home and over 125 friends old and you came to visit and pay their respects.  You see, my uncles friends mean a great deal to him. During the afternoon I asked one of the young guests there if he had 125 friends who would call on his birthday. He said, "If I had a party for all my real friends, we could hold it in a clothes closet and not be crowded." That's sad, isn't it, but so true of the modern generation. So often we pick our friends for business reasons. We entertain "them" because they entertained "us"! We mix dinner parties with insurance policies and card parties with real estate, never being sure if we are liked for what we are. My uncle, God bless him, has real friends. Friends who fetch his mail and clean his walks. Friends who write him when he's ill and visit him when he's well. Friends who call because they love the man for what he is, a gentle, good man in the truest sense of the words. Such friendships are rare indeed in this hectic day and age. I thought as I watched this beloved gentleman, sometime soon he must go. When he does, 200, yes perhaps 300 eyes will cry bitter tears. I asked myself "How many would cry over you”?

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

You know, parenthood and it's very best is a frightening experience. I really pity the folks who are, or are about to be, brand new parents. They must be filled with absolute confusion every time they pick up a magazine, because every publication you read these days tells you how to raise your children. Teenagers Need Not be a Problem… Our Juvenile Delinquents… What's Wrong with our Youth?… Should You Tell Your Children the Facts… Who Failed Our Youth?… These are just a few of the articles I've seen lately, and believe me, if a parent read them all, that parent would immediately go out and drown his poor offspring. Frankly, I think the so-called child experts are for the most part doing more harm than good. Do you recall in the early 40s, every child expert told us… "Let your kids do anything they please. They are simply trying to express themselves. Any parental influence will caused gigantic frustrations to be built up and your child will develop an unbalanced personality. Just let the child do as he wishes – it's self expression that's important." And the result? More juvenile delinquents than ever. The self-expression kids set up new records for misbehavior, records that make you shake your head. Now what do the experts say. These bad kids are the result of parents not giving guidance during the child's formative years. We hear there are no bad children – just bad parents. I say "hogwash", to these experts and their theories. I'll wager 50% of the child experts aren't even married, let alone parents, and I think the country would be better off if they were not permitted to mettle in every magazine in the country. As far as raising kids today is concerned, I think it's exactly the same job my mother and your mother had and it should be gone about in the same manner. Give them kindness, but be firm; give them all the understanding you can muster; give them patience, but let them know who's boss. Above all, set a good example for your youngster to follow, and on occasion when all things fail, try a good swift smack on the seat of the trousers. Yes, I think it's high time parents started raising their own children Dash the old-fashioned way.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I would like you to meet a woman I know very well. She is no longer young… her hair is gray… her face is lined… her hands give evidence of the thousands of washes she's run through… of the thousands of floors she scrubbed. Her back gives her a little trouble come in the cold weather, and her step has lost its spring. She's raised six children in all… lost one son during the war… and every year… sometimes twice a year her boys and girls come home with their families to see grandma and for the brief span of a few hours, she plays the role of mother again. Perhaps you'd expect her to sit back now and reap the rich reward of the retired… taking life easy… enjoying the leisure she's so richly deserves. But no… this she does not do… for she is a busy woman. You see, she's on four committees… she works for her church… her community… the united appeal… she devotes her time to the blind… the physically handicapped… those who have been given an unfair shake by fate… and there is no job she will not undertake… no hours she will not put in for the good cause… no personal sacrifice too great to make for her fellow man. She is ever present when there is a concert to stage for the elderly… when there are skates to be found for the children at the orphanage… when there are funds to be raised to help a burnt out family which she will never meet… when a blind man has to be taken for a walk in the winter sunshine… when there is a bent a little limb that must be exercised… when there is a shaken faith to be renewed… when there is a legless veteran who needs the bitterness talked away. And what does she get in reward… well… only God can search her heart and answer that one. My friends… I meet this magical, marvelous woman 50 times a week in my profession, and after I have talked to her, after her great devotion… warmth and genuine enthusiasm… her understanding and gentle goodness has filled my office and brushed aside all things that are not as real and abiding as the things she believes in and stands for. I think God must love her so very much and must surely be saving a special place in heaven for the little gray haired lady who is, "a member of the committee”.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I don't know how many of you listening to me have ever seen a prizefight. You know, you can learn a great deal from a fight because the prize ring is much like life. The minute you step into the ring, you can expect to start getting your lumps, and that goes on until you're knocked out or you knock the other fellow out. If you stick your chin out, you're set up to be floored. If you let your guard down, look out, you are in trouble. When you are knocked down, there is nobody who can help you but yourself, and you keep remembering that if you stay down you're licked. If you can get up, even one more time, there's another round ahead. 

Boy, isn't that like living? From the time you step into the ring of life until they count you out, you get your lumps and although you know that if you drop your guard and lead with your chin, you are set up for a dive, you do it time after time. The funny part of it is that you never learn, no matter how old you get. Somehow you keep thinking you can't be hurt, but time and again you are, and no matter how many times you're hit, you never get used to it. 

Each new blow is just as painful as the last. But there is one thing you must never forget. In life, as in the ring, you are only licked if you don't get up. If you can just struggle to your feet one more time, you get another chance. So buddy, if they have a nine count on you, shake your head and struggle to your feet and start swinging. But the next time, keep your chin in and your guard up. Who knows, maybe the next round will be your round.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I had a young man in my employ who appeared to be headed for a complete breakdown. He progressed to a point where he was just not able to cope with even the most trivial problems. His job, his family responsibilities all became more than he could handle. He was convinced that if he could just get away for a few weeks he’d get squared away and would return refreshed and ready to carry on. I arranged his vacation and he left for Hawaii. When he had been there a week I called him long distance. "How are you Harry?" I enquired. "Not so good, he replied.” "You don't feel any different than you did here, do you Harry," I said. He confessed that he didn't. I tried to explain to him that he had really not escaped from his problems; he had only moved them all to another location. Most of our conflicts in life are not in our jobs or in our family relationships. They are within ourselves. The only real way to escape a problem is not to run from it, but to confront it head on. So many of us attempt to get away from the things we don't want to look at. We take long vacations, drink to excess, and some even resort to narcotics. Yet when the fog clears away, the problem is still there waiting to be dealt with. If problems have you down, do the wise thing. Confront them. It may hurt for a while, but time heals all things and if you tackle problems and go your best against them, you will win the fight and become a much better person.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I am amazed at the number of people in this whole world who seem to be completely incapable of some introspection. I think this ability to examine one's self objectively is an important indication of maturity. In business, in our home lives, and coming to grips with the problems of society, we are bound to run into conflict. It is so easy to blame the other fellow for what we feel is wrong. It is so simple to sidestep our own responsibility. I think if a man or woman is going to develop into any kind of a worthwhile human being he or she must be able to look at any situation, however difficult, and say "What is my position here?" In business, or in the home, we must be able to ask ourselves if perhaps it's not our own fault that we find ourselves in impossible situations. Believe me, very few people can do it. I say introspection is a sign of maturity because until such time as you can evaluate your own attitudes you cannot really begin to accept yourself for what you are. Today you see so many people who are not what they think they are at all, and they will never discover themselves because they refuse to stand back and take a good look at themselves. Until you acquire a pretty good idea of what makes you tick; until you are able to honestly appraise yourself, you will never grow beyond the point at which you close your eyes to your own true nature.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I am very much in favor 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 picked 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 a jovial neighbor who used to pile his ’29 Chev high with children every Saturday for a ride in the country or a journey to the river swimmin’ hole. One Saturday he gathered all the available kids, as usual, and headed for the 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 my misery. Like I say, small knocks bruise hard when you're very young. So little do I understand this, but I do not know whether it is good or evil that we toughen up, eventually, for the journey ahead. I do know that I feel childhood should be a very happy time for 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 CHED radio - Date unknown

You have often heard the old adage, "there is a little bit of good in the worst of us." You know, I believe that. I believe it strongly. I was at a car wash last week when this was once again proven, to my satisfaction at least. Two young lads had found a mouse under a couple of mops. When the mops were moved the mouse ran, with the lads in hot pursuit. They swung at the little beast several times and missed. Finally the mouse ran under a large flat plate over which the next car had to pass. As soon as the car hit the plate it would drop an inch to the floor, triggering the dryer mechanism. The mouse would surely be crushed. Several grown men had watched this whole episode and we were all agreed that the lads had chased the mouse to positive oblivion. The car hit the plate, the the plate slapped against the concrete floor and it was agreed the mouse had been crushed. However, the mouse was not crushed. After the car passed over the plate, and it snapped up again, the small creature darted out from under and into the safety of a hole in the floor. At this moment I looked at the men who had been witness to this affair. Everyone had a smile on his face. Two full grown boys and all that frightful  mechanism had seemed too much for the mouse; but he got away safe and sound and the men were glad. That is why I still have faith in my kind. Anyone who can root for a mouse can't be all bad.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

I witnessed a rather strange, pathetic scene on the steps of a leading city church the other day. There was apparently some social function going on in the church, for the ladies were entering the building all dressed up in their finery. They came in groups of two and three. 

As I waited on the corner in front of the church, an old gentleman very much under the influence of alcohol made his way to the church steps and sat down to one side of the door. I stood and watched the good ladies, and some gentlemen of the church, as they pass the old gentleman, and without exception there were looks of utter horror and disgust on their faces. To them it was a sacrilege that a poor derelict should sit intoxicated on the church steps. Because I still have some small grain of faith in man, I waited to see if perhaps one person going into the church might stop to offer the old man some help. I wondered if perhaps there wouldn't be just one person who would pick the old man up, take him into the church, for a few moments of comfort and shelter, and perhaps a few words of encouragement. No one came forward, and soon a policeman hustled the old man on his way. A few heads were poked out of the church door as he was being led away and they seemed happy that the house of God was no longer being desecrated by the presence of an "untouchable". 

As I wandered away from the scene I couldn’t help wondering what Jesus would have done had he found the old man drunk on his church steps. Would he have called the authorities? Would he have passed by in disgust, or would he have held out a helping hand? I thought to myself – perhaps the old man thought he would get help at the church. He made it right to the door, but no one asked him in.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

When your road of life leads all uphill 

And you feel that you can't go on, 

When the path you walk is hard and cruel, 

And you long for the night, not the dawn, 

Find someone who loves you and test that love, 

He'll pick you up if you fall. 

If you give him a chance, he'll show his worth, 

Find that someone who loves you, and bawl. 

No man's been made who can take on the world

And not get hurt now and then, 

And it matters not how oft you go down, 

As long as you get up again. 

Just keep remembering the someone who cares, 

He'll hear you whenever you call… 

So if now and then, life becomes too much, 

Find that someone who loves you… and bawl.

Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown

TWO WEEKS WITHOUT PAY

It's a sad sad story I tell you today, 

About a young mothers two weeks without pay, 

Two weeks without let up, 

Two weeks with no break 

Cooped up in a cabin with kids at the lake. 

The day she arrived, it started to rain, 

It let up for an hour, then started again. 

It rained in the morning, it rained every night. 

She looked out the window, and oh what a sight! 

It came down in buckets, hour after hour. 

The deluge let up and turned into a shower, 

The shower let up and turned into a drizzle, 

The weather report for tomorrow's a fizzle. 

Five kids underfoot with nothing to do, 

Three with a cold and two with the flu, 

The wind is so cold they stay away from the door, 

And they'll all get pneumonia if they sit on the floor.

The comics they've read, night after night, 

In the daytime there's nothing to do but just fight, 

When the future couldn't possibly look more bleak, 

The ancient old roof starts into a leak, 

She runs out of pans to catch all the drips, 

In the morning, there’ll be water clear up to her hips, 

The fire she tries to build is a joke, 

The wood is all wet, all she gets is black smoke.

The bed clothes are damp as a mallard ducks back. 

And the plumbing is definitely not in the shack. 

In the middle of the night, to the back of the lot, 

Five trips she makes with tot after tot, 

While back in the city, slaving away 

Is father and husband, serving two weeks WITH pay, 

The "Pete" club for lunch, and cocktails at four, 

With golf twice a week and poker galore, 

A maid to come in to clean up his place, 

Dirty dishes are something that no man should face, 

And he thinks that he's giving the family a break 

As he lets them all drown in the rain at the lake, 

When mother gets home, if she kills this man dead 

I give you good odds as to what the clown said, 

“It's been really tough ‘batching’", But don't worry dear, 

I've got that same cottage for your two weeks next year!”