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Page 4, News, Tuesday, December 18, 1990 Editorial The Terrace Bay - Schreiber News-is published every Tuesday by Laurentian Publishing Limited, Box 579, 13 Simcoe Plaza, Terrace Bay, Ont., POT 2WO Tel.: 807-825-3747. Second class mailing permit 2264. Member of the Ontario Community Newspaper Association and the Canadian Community Newspaper Association Giving and receiving; A matter of trust A Toronto social worker, in a recent article in one of the larger Canadian daily newspapers, put forth the view that helping the poor by giving them Christmas food hampers does little to help. The social worker feels the donations serve only to salve the conscience of the giver. The givers, the author claims, see no contradiction between their annual contribution and their on going hostility to social policies that would provide public assistance at at a level permitting recipients to live in dignity and decency. The conclusion of all of this is that recipients of Christmas food baskets suffer a feeling of worthlessness and humiliation. _ [ have to agree that food charity is not the best solution to providing people dignity and decency in their life style. However, social policies, even if improved and affordable could never meet all the needs. The author of that rather cynical article needs to ask himself who will see children fed while social workers, bureaucrats and politicians argue over social policies. Those children would have no Christmas at all if their communities didn't help them. They would never learn that Christmas is about giving, sharing and trusting. A gift given, free of conditions, is an expression of our willingness to give of ourselves to others. A gift received, free of conditions, is a recognition of that willingness. A gift, offered in peace and received with dignity, is a symbol of trust and friendship between people. Giving is not something that should need to be analyzed by a Christian society. Enjoy your Christmas, your family, your friends and your -- neighbours. Robert A. Cotton Hang it up Mr. Mulroney Santa will surely be leaving you a sack of coal this year, cause you haven't done any good. He's checked his list many times over and he can't believe how bad you've been. He's also- worried that his service will be included in the GST. You must have visions of sugar plums dancing in your head year round, or maybe you've been hanging around Margaret Thatcher too long. Perhaps you should take'a cue from her and resign since you both no longer hold confidence. Maybe it would be appropriate to bring in three wisemen at this time 1 | & | can't get in Dear Editor: This is a story I heard recently and I would like to pass it along to your readers. A Pastor, having heard a tape of a male singer, loved the music so much he wrote a letter asking the singer to perform at his church. The singer came to the church on Sunday and a man, who met him at the door, said, "You can't come in here, you're black!" "What do you mean," said the Dear Editor: You've really roasted our 'Merry Christmas Mr. Mul- chestnuts this time; Brian. At roney: CBC 1,200 people will literally} - be getting a Christmas "sack." Cut costs you say? Well, the next time Joe Clark wants a meeting with James Baker, why not pick a halfway point between -Ottawa and Washington, instead of flying to Jamaica. Instead of spending $333 million of tax- payer's money on the museum of civilization in Hull, Quebec, a place a handful of Canadians will see, put that money into some- thing the whole country can use, Passenger Train Service maybe? Face it Brian, its time to hang it up, pack it in, get on your sleigh and fa, la, la, la, la out of here. S. MacFarlane Schreiber there either singer, "Your Pastor invited me to sing here." The man replied, "The Pastor would not have invited you if he had known you were black." The singer demanded to be taken to the Pastor. The Pastor was shocked and said, " You can't sing here, you're black." The singer, hurt and crying, " ran out of the church. continued on page 7 Tel.: 825-3747 es Sees 2 Sandy Harbinson ate a -- ner Advertising Mgr... Linda Harbinson ("CNA ubdscription rates: year / seniors $10 (local); Oe ates ee Robert Cotton oO $27 per year (out of 40 mile Sales Rep Bree sates eupe met ivwas <as0% Tammy Smith cn radius) $36 in U.S. Admin. ASSt........0.c0.cc Gayle Fournier = Production Asst............... Cheryl Kostecki WOULD YOU LIKE FROM YOUR COUNTRY ? " Getting the last laugh A laugh is the opposite of a breakdown. It's a breakup. Bernard Slade I see from my newspaper that Sweden is set to put its civil servants through an improvement course. They are going to be taught how to laugh. "A bureaucrat works a lot with laws and contracts" says Ulla-Christin Svensson, the woman in charge of the humour course. "That leaves him very much controlled and stops him from really opening up." I think it's a wonderful idea which can only improve the average Swede's lot. Think of the merry peals of laughter ringing out across the blue-grey snowscape of that gloomy, introspective land. "We confront problems better by being happy" Ms. 2 Svensson says, and I know she's absolutely right. Just imagine for a moment the merry peals of laughter ringing out across the blue-grey snowscape of our gloomy, introspective land. Meech Lake, the GST, the Quebec Sulk, the Leaf slump, -- this country could use a laugh. There's a reason a deep hearty belly laugh feels so good and it's not just because it breaks the tension or relieves the monotony. Laughter is therapeutic. It really is good for a body (or a country). There's an old saw that goes: "he who laughs last laughs best." A wise physician once amended that to: "he who laughs, lasts." It's true. Laugh, and you'll live longer, not to mention better. Well.....not always, I suppose. Allen Ginsberg, the American poet, claims he nearly died from an overdose of nitrous oxide (laughing gas) -- but given the benign nature of Arthur Black laughing gas and the poet's penchant for high melodrama, Ginsberg may have been pinching a little poetic licence. Then there's the case of Zeuxis, a Greek painter who lived back around 500 B.C. Zeuxis was commissioned by a wealthy and somewhat eccentric patron to paint a portrait of a well-known local bag lady. Zeuxis kept his part of the bargain. He rendered a portrait so wickedly hilarious that it made him -- the artist -- smile. Then snicker. As a matter of fact it made him laugh out loud. Then he guffawed and whooped and roared and gasped for breath and looked at his portrait and roared some more and...... Died. Zeuxis laughed so hard he burst a blood vessel in his head. He literally died laughing. I guess the bag lady had the last laugh after all. Which is one more reason to laugh every chancé-you get -- because you never know which one's going to be your last. General John Sedgwick didn't, when he stuck his head over the parapet during the Civil War, snorted at the rebel snipers and scoffed: "Why, they couldn't hit an elephant at this dist......." A few weeks later, in Washington, another "last laugh" occurred during the production of a play called Our American Cousin. At one point in the play, the heroine calls for a shawl to protect her from the draft. The actor who was supposed to fetch the shawl replied instead "You are mistaken, Miss Mary, the draft has already been stopped by order-of the, President." All very impromptu, all very clever, because President Lincoln had, in fact cancelled the draft of American soldiers that week. Theatre patrons craned to look at the Presidential box. Yes, President Lincoln was laughing appreciatively. Unbeknownst to all, another actor was at that moment, creeping towards the President's box, muzzle-loaded derringer in hand. John Wilkes Booth was about to insure that President ---_x ees