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

Mother, how often did you say it?  How often did you say "Boy, will I be glad when they're both off to school...out from under my feet".  To you that was to be the 'D' day for deliverance,...your time of liberation...the day when you'd be free of those yelling, kicking, crying, cookie-begging, little characters who gave you no piece from sun-up till sunset.  Well, many of you have had your big day, but it wasn't all like you thought it would be, was it?  There was probably a big lump in your throat as you dressed the second little boy for his first day of school, and you wondered where the years had gone since the day you brought him into the world.  And big brother...(it's old hat for him - heck he's in grade four now)...he stands by to teach the little guy the ropes...and he even forgives his little brother a few anxious tears.  Big brother stands by at the appointed time, takes little brother by the hand and with shining morning faces, they start off across the busy thoroughfare...into a new world.  You no doubt stood by the window and  watched them go and wondered what had happened to your big day...how come no cheering...no music...no streamers...only a pang of regret and bewilderment.  You look again and you think maybe you can see a tear in the little man's eye...and to you...your six-year-old never looked so small - and you fight back your own tears and the urge to run after him and bring him back home.  You watch till they are out of sight...then you sit down and drink the last cup of morning coffee and say a silent prayer and ask God to look after your littlest angel, and pray that he'll learn the ways of the world well...but gently.

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

A friend 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 the farm, and off in the distance, when the night was dark and cool, you'd hear the whistle on the train, a long and lonely whistle that would trigger all kinds of wonderful dreams?  You'd 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 on board.   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  It has been replaced by something that could be a bus horn or a truck, a big ugly puff of sound that just hasn't the appeal of the old train whistle.  My friend mentioned too, that our kids have never seen a streetcar.  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 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 Tiger Moth's, open cockpit airplanes where you could actually SEE the pilot and you would always wave, but he would never wave back.
Yes, these things our kids will never know.  Somehow today I get the feeling that things are moving too fast...or am I just slowing up?

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.