Originally broadcast on CHED Radio - September 14th, 1960

I noticed an ad in the paper last night....FOR SALE..... one baby's bed.  Imagine, someone wants to sell a baby's bed.  But this just isn't right somehow.  That little bed holds too many precious memories.  True, it's not much to look at, but oh, the stories it could tell.  The painted rabbits and cherubs that used to fly about the headboard are faded and gone now, but that's easy to explain.  Don't you remember when the little one was so sick and you had to have the steamer on night and day and speaks to the lonely vigil and waited for the crisis to pass?  That, plus small, patient, prying fingers have taken their toll of these once bright decorations.  And look at the guard rail, once so straight and bright and new.  Look at the many little teethmarks there where the paint has been chewed away.  That rail played its part in helping a smallmouth push through a tiny tooth or two.  The spring is a little worse for wear...but then it should be, for didn't baby use it as a trampoline for two years?  Yes...there are so many memories here.  Memories of years of tucking in...of kissing good night...countless middle of night drinks of water...of damp, tussled heads in the heat of summer and cold, pink cheeks and noses when the frost was on the window...of infant smells like Johnson's Baby Powder and Babies Own soap, memories of pink blankets that started out straight but ended up in a small irregular ball in the corner of the crib...of small behinds pushed into the air, with knees pulled up tight and faces buried in downy pillows...of laughter...of tears...of hopes...of prayers...of fears.  No, you can't sell a baby's bed without tearing your heart half out.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada in 1963

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, threw 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 ours 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, Edmonton, Alberta Canada in 1963

Most modern cities have laid down some hard and fast rules about the handling of garbage. I know in my town the citizens are forced to be downright clinical about this business. Indeed it is often difficult to determine whether that neat little package on the signboard is a box lunch, laundry fresh from the plant, or the leavings of last nights table going out to the refuse can. This new approach to the old problem of garbage carries itself to the extreme when we come to deal with the leaves we rake up off the lawn in the fall. That's where I got into trouble last fall.  In our town the leaves are to be raked up and neatly placed in containers to be left for pick up. (For this purpose most folks use those plastic bags that the dry cleaning comes back in). Now to me there is no smell in the world like that of clean burning leaves in the crisp fall air, and so after filling three bags with leaves, I neatly piled a few I had left over and set them afire. To escape detection, I performed this deed late in the evening under cover of darkness. Nevertheless, I got caught. The magistrate before whom I appeared must have been a man with a soul because when I told him I just wanted to smell Burning leaves a few more times before I passed on, he smiled and said he fully understood. He went on to explain however that the law has to be upheld and fined me five dollars. I have thought that whole matter over since then and come to the conclusion that it was the best five dollars I ever spent.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Undated.

Streets of Miami

As Willie walked out on the streets of Miami,

He said to himself this is some fancy town,

The calendar says it’s the middle of winter,

But not one single snow flake comes fluttering down.

Back home all his people were slipping and sliding,

While council debated on just what to do.

Then Bill phoned the council, told them to forget it,

Said he’d book them all in at the old Fontenblue.

But council declined his worships kind offer,

Told him to get back on the next northbound flight,

The budget was shot on the road cleaning project,

With this street cleaning business, just nothings gone right.

But Willie said boys don’t give in to this panic,

I have a plan that is really the thing.

I’ll see that the sidewalks and roads are all cleared off,

The name of my plan is a season called spring.

But Willie came back from the streets of Miami,

To snow drifts and ice ruts and piles of snow.

Tho’ tanned up and healthy with vim and with vigour,

How to deal with snow clearance, he still doesn’t know. 

He should have stayed down in that town called Miami,

Down where sun shines 50 weeks every year.

He might as well stay way down south in Miami,

For all the road clearing he’s doing up here.

So pile the snow high boys...up to the sky boys,

They’ll lick the problem, they will never fear.

Each road is a beaut now, the problems acute now,

But Willie will solve it come springtime this year.

Originally broadcast on CHED Radio, Edmonton, Alberta Canada. Undated.

In an article in the Edmonton Journal Saturday evening, City Planner William Hardcastle stated that there exists in Edmonton “an extremely low standard of design in many downtown buildings.” He named the new Empire Block and the new Bank of Montreal classic examples of bad design. Here, here Mr. Hardcastle. All the Empire Block needs is bars on the windows and it could pass for a jail. The Bank of Montreal, with its bile green exterior is an eye sore on the face of the City. Mr. Hardcastle stated that City Council never took seriously his objection to the designs of some buildings on which his department wanted to withhold development permits. What a pity. We have to face it. This growing city IS ugly. There is filth and dirt everywhere you look. For eight months a year we are faced with mountains of snow and in spring and fall with thousands of acres of mud and slush and muck. And then we compound all these natural conditions by allowing companies to put up monstrosities like the Empire Block and the Bank of Montreal. Why do so many Canadians feel it’s a little “sissy” to have an appreciation for beauty? Is it that too few of us have ever seen beautiful buildings, parks in the City Centre, malls filled with flowers, boulevards lined with trees? These things can be done if enough people care. We don't have to have a city of tall, grey, bleak, ugly, boxes like the Empire Block. There is nothing we can do about the buildings that have now been built. We’re stuck with them for another hundred years, but for heavens sake let’s give Mr. Hardcastles department some support from here on in. We’re building for tomorrow, so let’s build for beauty not for ugliness.