tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36741384150783035482024-03-12T17:19:31.061-07:00Jerry's Thoughts for the DayDaily lifestyle editorials first broadcast on CHED Radio in the late 1950's and early 60's by the late Jerry Forbes.Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.comBlogger352125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-15168978919166743862022-12-19T09:00:00.000-08:002022-12-19T09:00:36.763-08:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Tuesday April 28th, 1964<p><span style="font-family: courier;">He asked me for the keys to my car last night. He was off on a date with his girl. I noticed when he made his request that he no longer had to look up at his Dad. He's over six feet now and indeed a young man in every respect. My goodness, where did my little boy go? It seems so short a time since I first looked at him, rolled in a blanket in the nurses arms. It was the 22nd of December and I was called at the office by the doctor. My first son had been born. I rushed to the hospital to see him, and without a doubt, it was the biggest thrill of my life to see my first born, not yet an hour old. "The first three months are the hardest," they told me. They were. Three A.M. feedings, teeth coming in all at once, diapers to be changed , colds, a mild case of measles, all those multitude of worries that new parents have. But soon, he was crawling about on the floor, getting into everything he could reach, putting into his mouth anything he could lift. Then one day, that first step. Oh the years pass so quickly. Little brothers come along, and soon the first born is off on his own with small playmates, over fences, into mud puddles, up on roofs and soon, too soon, off to school. The years pass and soon you are standing behind a backstop watching him play first base in the little league finals. You are sitting next to him at the Boy Scout Father and Son Banquet. Together you sit on the Chesterfield pouring over problems he has brought home from school. You notice as you rough-house on the lawn that his grip is much stronger this summer and you start to wonder if he really can lick you. And then, as if in the turning of a page, he is asking you for the keys to your car and you realize that your little boy is a man. My goodness...I wonder where all those years have gone?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-67818077575391023272021-11-03T11:34:00.006-07:002021-11-03T11:34:44.443-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-12854714987339373472021-11-03T11:33:00.007-07:002021-11-03T11:33:44.220-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date Unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-13535568309724522472021-11-03T11:32:00.005-07:002021-11-03T11:32:30.367-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-86539600632221107712021-11-03T11:31:00.003-07:002021-11-03T11:31:27.053-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, October 26, 1964<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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?</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> 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?</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-91328633398976676692021-11-03T11:30:00.002-07:002021-11-03T11:30:19.425-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Tuesday, June 14, 1960<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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”.</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> 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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-88145504449827335172021-11-03T11:29:00.001-07:002021-11-03T11:29:10.468-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">A man by the name of William Burke wrote these lines.</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">"I was angry with my friend, </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I told my wrath, my wrath did end. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I was angry with my foe. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I hid my wrath, my wrath did grow”. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-27485146179986239212021-11-03T11:28:00.000-07:002021-11-03T11:28:05.481-07:00Originally broadcast on ChED radio - Thursday, February 27, 1964<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-55272373878687178192021-11-03T11:25:00.005-07:002021-11-03T11:26:39.714-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, March 22, 1965<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-58817809912498604862021-03-15T12:25:00.002-07:002021-03-15T12:25:13.849-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Thursday, September 21, 1961<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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?"</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-84067328478038584052021-03-15T12:23:00.001-07:002021-03-15T12:23:07.176-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, September 18, 1961<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-18310148443753091762021-03-15T12:22:00.000-07:002021-03-15T12:22:02.265-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Monday, February 3, 1964<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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 fa</span><span style="font-family: courier;">t</span><span style="font-family: courier;">ale. 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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-3444376782480625222021-03-15T12:20:00.006-07:002021-03-15T12:20:45.761-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Tuesday, February 11, 1964<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-10268246356459386272021-03-15T12:19:00.005-07:002021-03-15T12:19:37.024-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.”</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-11610657708297815452021-03-15T12:18:00.005-07:002021-03-15T12:18:37.996-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-37789207577770086962021-03-15T12:17:00.006-07:002021-03-15T12:17:34.937-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-66001432122699079302021-03-15T12:16:00.005-07:002021-03-15T12:16:37.145-07:00Originally broadcast n CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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".</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-48068040997630811882021-03-15T12:15:00.004-07:002021-03-15T12:15:31.258-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Thursday, December 7, 1960<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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.”</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-42306050158009180932021-03-15T12:14:00.003-07:002021-03-15T12:14:20.239-07:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>
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<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-82358460448350400822021-03-13T10:37:00.005-08:002021-03-13T10:37:31.052-08:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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!</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-36844002801642020982021-03-13T10:36:00.002-08:002021-03-13T10:36:19.260-08:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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!”</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-10679397953208664772021-03-13T10:35:00.003-08:002021-03-13T10:40:01.833-08:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Gone is the laughter, gone are the tears, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">What has become of those "in between" years, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">The old family house stands deserted and bare, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Oh where are the joys that used to live there.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">It was 20 years last autumn, when I bid them all goodbye, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">And though she tried to hide it, there was a tear in mothers eye,</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">I was the first one leaving, and though it hurt my Ma, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">There was still three other young ones, at home with her and Pa, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">But the years pass by so quickly, one by one they said farewell, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Jim and Burt moved to the city, Homer Johnson married Mel, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">And before they knew what happened, there was only mom and dad, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">And all those years of laughter turned into something sad.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Gone is the laughter, gone are the tears, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">What has become of those "in between" years, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">The old family house stands deserted and bare, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Oh where are the joys that used to live there,</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">I was somewhere east of Cheyenne when I heard that Pa had died. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">With that little gray haired lady sitting faithful by his side, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">And they said that she died with him, everything she loved was gone, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">But with a courage deep inside her, she somehow managed on, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Today up to the church yard, I took a lonely ride, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">And saw where they had laid her, close by my father side, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">And one thought will always haunt me, as o’er the world I roam, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">When I knew how much she needed me, why didn't I go home.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Gone is the laughter, gone are the tears, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">What has become of those "in between" years, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">The old family house stands deserted and bare, </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Oh where are the joys that used to live there.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-56293752817903999172021-03-13T10:34:00.001-08:002021-03-13T10:34:14.101-08:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-44969502599063717282021-03-13T10:33:00.002-08:002021-03-13T10:33:19.935-08:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: courier;">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.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3674138415078303548.post-66512507157308547912021-03-13T10:32:00.002-08:002021-03-13T10:32:16.815-08:00Originally broadcast on CHED radio - Date unknown<p><span style="font-family: courier;">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 </span><span style="font-family: courier; text-decoration: underline;">something</span><span style="font-family: courier;">, 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 </span><span style="font-family: courier; text-decoration: underline;">something</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> worked out right for us, even if for a little while.</span></p>Gord Forbeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14966643414271606673noreply@blogger.com0