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Page' 4, Terrace Bay-Schreiber News, Wednesday, September 24, 1986 y Editorial -- Rec wreck The Terrace Bay-Schreiber News is Co. Ltd., Box 579, Terrace Bay, Ontario, Second Class Mailing Permit Number 0867 SPITOR ks a ee ADVERTISING OFFICE PRODUCTION MANAGER published every Wednesday by: Laurentian Publishing POT 2W0. Telephone: (807) 825-3747. See Betty St. Amand Seles coe Se eee re ee Gayle Fournier SE a Mary Melo _. Conrad Felber Single copies 35 cents Subscription rates per year in-town -- $14.00 out-of-town -- $18.00 Member of Ontario Community Newspapers Association and The Canadian Community Newspapers Association. 1 In case you missed reading about it on the front page of this week's News, Terrace Bay Recreation Co-ordinator Terry Bryson has submitted his resignation and will be leaving fora government job in Sault Ste. Marie next month. Of course, best wishes must be extended to him, as he has done a magnificent job in the four years that he has been living and working here in Terrace Bay. The problem is, it will be very difficult to fill Bryson's shoes--not only because he was such a competent Co- ordinator, but also because of the changing economic con- ditions which now exist locally. There will be more than a few potential candidates unwilling to even apply here. On top of that, there is now a similar vacancy in Marathon. Terrace Bay Council's task of finding a successor would be formidable in the best of times, but now they must get something beyond a simple replacement, since the role of recreation will become more important than ever before. Council must do a good selling job to find not only a qualified person, but also somebody top-notch, aware of the responsibilities such a job will entail now and in the future. Good luck, then, to both Council and Bryson. Close To The Edge By Conrad Felber Why shouldn't we quarrel about a word? What is the good of words if they aren't important enough to quar- rel over? (G.K. Chesterton) English. Probably the hardest language to master. Even once you know it (or at least, once you think you know it) there are always new words that are cropping up which you . have to learn. After all, it was only a few years ago that nouns and verbs like "bytes" and "interface" came into prominence. Also, existing words sometimes acquire new mean- ings--e.g., when my computer is "down," I don't really mean to say that the stupid thing has fallen off my desk (although such a terrible event is certainly a possibility). Thing is, up until just recently I've been taking our language for granted. Newfie joke ts on us: There are several ways to enter the magical kingdom of Newfoundland. YOu can do it the easy way by hopp- ing the C.N. ferry to Argentia or Port- aux-Basques. You can get there by buy- ing a seat on an Air Canada flight and white-knuckling your way through the fog to land at St. John's. Occasionally , Russians and other disenchanted fugitives from behind the Iron Curtain achieve entry by hiding in a washroom at Gander until their Aeroflot plane leaves without them. About a thousand years ago, Vikings did it in hide- covered sailing ships. Tamil refugees prefer the abandone lifeboat routine. But it doesn't really matter if you ar- rive in a hot air balloon or hidden in the hold of a Portuguese cod trawler --- any of those methods' merely get you Iphysically into Newfoundland. To ex- perience the place spiritually, there's only one route. You have to attend a Screech In. Never heard of a Screech In? Well, sit back and pay attention, for you are reading the words of a man who has a certificate on his wall officially decree- Rete aS a Rae FS ee | What changed my perspective was this: I was typing a story here at the News office on the aforementioned computer, when one of my co- workers. said she thought I had misspelled (or is it misspell?) the word "receive," until she remembered that the rule is "i before e except after c."' "That rule is a bunch of baloney"' (or is it bologna?), 1 was proud to point out. "What about science?"' I boasted, noting that in that word, the i does become before the e, even though it is after the c. "Or weird?" I added, showing that the i doesn't come before the e even following a w. This only caused her to mumble something in return about "excep- tions to the rule,"' all of which made me suddenly realize (or is it realise?) how silly English really is. After all, unlike the famous saying about ex- ceptions proving the rule, an excep- tion actually disproves the rule (or is it exproves? unproves??), so why even have one? (A rule, that is.) I mean, one could make a mockery of our lingo without even trying too hard. I've always found it odd, for example, that "monosyllable,"' which of course means "word of one syllable," has five syllables in it! And a monogram always has at least two letters in it, even though mond, as a prefix, means "one, alone, single' (which raises the question of the disease mononucleosis...usually at least two people wind up having it at the same time!). Somebody once demonstrated how ridiculous the language is by using specific rules and traits of English to spell the word fish like this: ghoti. How is this done, you ask? Simple: you use the "gh" of enough, the atts as it is pronounced in women, and the "ti" as it is said in nation to spell ghoti, pronounced '"'fish."" Weird (there's that word again!), but true. While I believe this just goes to show that vowels are the most vex- atious element in English (and I'll deal with them in my own way in just a moment), I must admit that con- sonants are a pain at times as well. After all, golly could actually be pro- nounced jolly if you use the g of bang What we should do, then, is make a"g"' a "'g." If you want the "*soft" g sound, use a nice j instead! Therefore, under my plan, it would be jypsy, not gypsy, and so on. But it's those pesky vowels--a, e, i, 0, and u (no, not you! u!)--which usually give us the most trouble. My solution? Delete them! Yes, that's right, just erase them from the alphabet altogether (but don't do it in the altogether)! You don't think it'll work, do you? Well, try this on for size: y cn crtnly rd wht ths sys, rght? Thn why d w nd vwls fr nywy? Lt's jst gt rd f thm! WII, my rdrs, tht cnclds ths wk's clmn. Thnks! S y nxt wk. Yrs trly, Cnrd Fibr. the Royal Order of Screechers. And it's signed by a boyo with the name of Brian Peckford. But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. Here we are jawing about Screech Ins and I haven't even talked about that celebrated Newfoundland in- stitution called Screech: Screech is rum. But that's rather like saying T.N.T. is a chemical compound. The origins of Screech are shrouded in myth and countermyth. Some trace it back to cheap, treacly Guyana rum, shipped in by the bilgeful back in the early years of the century. Others in- sist. the first Screech hailed from Jamaica. I've read that the name Screech comes from the word "screigh"' -- an old Scots dialect term for whiskey. I've also been told that it was a Yank who gave the stuff its name -- some long-forgotten American G.I. serving in Newfoundland during the Se- cond World War. The story goes that the grunt was offered a wee tot of the Newfie elixir and, following the exam- ple of his native host, he tossed the liba- tion off in a single gulp. Closely followed by a gasp, a sob and a single, mega-decibel, blood-curdling + 5 Ss es Diag gadget, bet Ryd hey ee gy Speen pmrteceomenns howl so loud it drew. curious crowds, sergeant who kicked in the door yell- ing "What the cripes was that ungodly screech?" The unflappable Newfoundland host tut tutted the sergeant with: "Screech? Tis de rum, me son, tis de rum." Or so the story goes. There may be little agreement on the origin of Screech but there's one characteristic on which all observers are unanimous. It's deadly. Screech can knock off your socks. It possesses a bouquet that falls somewhere between molten lava and Janitor In A Drum. I'm not saying that the act of drink- ing straight Screech is.unduly painful, but given a choice between knocking back a wee jar of the stuff and, say, flossing my teeth with an oxy-acetyline torch... well, I'd have to mull it over. So much for Screech the noun. As for the aforementioned Screech In, that's the brainchild of a clutch of very creative Islanders working for New- foundland tourism. They decided that what they needed was some kind of of- ficial welcoming ceremony that would make an, ummmm, unforgettable im- pression on Visitors From Away. And that's how the Screech In was born. It works like this: the Screechee *THhare vou or me) kneels solemnly before an officer of the Order who is dressed in the official Newfoundland ceremonial uniform -- whichis to say yellow oilskins. The Screechee is then required to ingest one '"'peppermint 7 knob" (an inoffensive, indigenous can- dy); one mouthful of mummified capelin (a highly offensive, indigenous minnow)... and a mouthful of Screech to wash it all down. When the Screechee regains con- sciousness he or she is required to res- pond to a question in authentic Newfanese. My reply was: "Hindeed oi am me pritty young maid, and long may yer big jib draw."' I never did quite catch the question. Get through all that and you are well on your way to becoming a member of the Royal Order of Screechers. There is just one tiny final demonstration of commitment that you must make. You have to Kiss the Cod. Yup. Asa final surprise they unwrap a great, slimy, odiferous, glassy-eyed, blubber-lipped, fresh-from-the-North Atlantic codfish and you have to kiss it, smack on the lips. - That is whay you call getting well and truly Screeched In and visitors to New- _ foundland love it. They, lineup. to.¢n-. dure it at fairs and receptions, conven- Black . tions and hotel lobbies all around the province. Screech dsIns have been wrought on everyone from ordinary tourists to an entire trade delegation from Peking. Picture if you will, the sight of a cou- ple of dozen solemn Chinese businessmen on their knees, solemnly planting big smooches on a couple of dozen dead and dripping cod. The most amazing thing is that the Newfoundlanders who perform the ceremony are so disciplined that not so much as a shadow of a smirk ever crosses their lips. Islanders Have finally got revenge for all those stupid Newfie jokes the rest of us used to tell about them. .. They2ve. . invented. .the. Ultimate Newfie Joke. And it's on us.