Ontario Community Newspapers

Terrace Bay News, 13 Aug 1970, p. 16

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TERRACE BAY NEWS AUGUST 13,1970 FREE ONE INDIVIDUAL or GROUP IN ats [ml [ml [ml 0] [ml [@ 1] Lo™ wh Hl |} 19 =) [ml 0] 0] 0] EEE6E5555 Mom, Dad or all the Kiddies may be photographed as a group -- FREE PORTRAIT LIVING ¢0LOU dha aroteteratatatotaigtataioioieioioioioiototetsteioiete PA RENTS: We've arranged to have a nationally recognized profes- sional photographer at our store on the dates sh own below. You can have each member of the family photographed in several poses, and pick any one of them for your free portrait children be accompanied by a parent. DON'T MISS THIS OPPORTUNITY to get a living colour portrait you will treasure are taken and low cost additional portraits a who wish them. . We only ask that all always. Several poses re available for those 1's our way of saying "Thank You' to our many regular customers, and "Welcome" to everyone else. Incidental Illy, we believe these photographs are really something special. They're beautifully posed portraits -- not snapshots. And don't forget they'll be in living colour, so dress the children in bright colours. AVAILABLE ONLY AT ....... ONE DAY ONLY ROBINSON FRIDAY AUG. 14 th. 9:30-5:30 ~ STORES PHONE 25-3891 TERRACE BAY, ONT ONE DAY ONLY THE BILL SMILEY |. COLUMN Summer floats by, as aimless as a cloud. Nothing seems to get done, but we seem to be doing something all the time. Last week was no exception. v It's nice to live like rich people once in a while, be it ever so temporary. We used to do it once a year when I was in the newspaper business. We'd go to a convention in some exotic place, stay in a posh hotel, hobnob with such exalted people as public relations men, and in- dulge in such sybaritic delights as breakfast in bed. It's hard to come down from filet mignon and baked alaska to hamburg and butter tarts, but we always felt it was worth it, no matter how long it took to pay back the money we'd borrowed to make like million- aires. This is against the puritan ethic, but I've never regretted it. I've seen too many people postponing a real spree of a holiday trip because they've needed a new lawnmower, or had just bought a new vacuum cleaner, or simply had to trade in their car. And then, when everything was finally right for the trip, Dad discovered, to his horror, that he had to have all his teeth out. Or Mother sudden- ly needs a hysterectomy. And the trip fades into never-never land. Sad. Never take my advice about anything, but 'Gather ye rose- buds while ye may' isn't a bad idea. Don't wait until you're too old and stupid and cripped with arthritis to stoop for a rosebud. And besides, there aren't that many rosebuds left. Last week we had a couple of days of gathering rosebuds. As usual, it was balm for that lacerated secret little corner in most of us that knows we could have been wealthy and success- ful and rich if we'd just had a break. We spent two days at a beautiful lodge in Ontario's Haliburton Highlands, just south of Algonquin Park. It's incredible country: rock, woods, and lakes everywhere. The lodge was everything it should be for one of these escapades. Handsome lounges, huge stone fireplace, magnificent chandeliers, courteous and unob- trusive help, and a sweet, pretty and even competent waitress for our own table. And lots of rich people around. That's essential. It wasn't a swinging place. No bar, no entertainment, and, thank heaven, no organized games and such. Just a place to lie around, swim or fish or play" horse-shoes or walk through the woods, eat like a hog, and wonder what the poor people are doing. We had a cottage overlooking the lake, with a big fireplace and everything else but the kitchen sink, an item most women are quite happy to be without on a vacation. Privacy, peace and luxury, the perquisites of the rich. First night at dinner, met an old friend from College. Was rather aghast when he told me he'd recently married Susan Kee, daughter of another old College friend. He's more than twice her age. "Dirty old man", I thought. Was even more confused when he introduced his 8-year-old son. Finally remembered he'd gone into the ministry. What he meant was that he'd performed the marriage ceremony. Next day, into town for a seminar on Creative Writing aff the Haliburton School of Fine Arts. Naturally, the school was? overlooking a lake. There's hard- ly anything else you can over- look there. Everything I know about Creative Writing might fill the back of a business card, but had an enjoyable afternoon with about fifteen ladies ranging from about nineteen to -- well, you know. They didn't get much out of it, but I thoroughly enjoyed boasting, telling them how 1 handle my wife when I call her the Old Battleaxe, and some of the hazards and rewards of writing a weekly column. (By the way, girls, I've thrown out two perfectly good paragraphs from this column.) After the seminar, a visit to the Haliburton Echo, a warm welcome come from editor Ber keley Fair, his wife, and his so Creighton, and a whiff of print er's ink. : Back to the lodge for a swim, dinner, canoe jaunt, and a ice lively evening by the fireplace with friends and some pretty unusual conversation. | Hard to climb into the battle-scarred 67 Dodge and hit. the long trail home. Depressing to get there and make your own hot dog for dinner. Horrible to see that pile of bills and hear the phone ringing. But worth i

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