The head of an Edmonton firm called the manager of his Toronto branch one evening a while ago and asked how were things at the office. Told everything was just fine he dumbfounded his branch man by retorting, “Well, you'd better get down there and take another look—your building just burned down. Saw it on television just now.”
We don't know how things will be in Montreal when this issue appears, but
just about a year ago now a Parade scout in Massachusetts received an interesting weather report from a friend there. “It’s spring,” wrote her Canadian ac-
quaintance, “but the sidewalks haven't come up yet.”
A young English lad and his mother who recently settled in Sarnia, Ont., were shopping in a toy department for a gift the youngster could take to a birthday party. “It has to be something really strong, you know," he told his mother solemnly, “because Canadian boys are always breaking things.” He pondered a moment, and then added helpfully, “That’s why they’re all called Buster,' you know.”
We don't know whether we feel sorrier for the Vancouver railway employee who always parked his car near the freight sheds, until the other day he returned to find it had been freighted off to Saskatoon, or for the Toronto motorist who got so flustered when his car stalled at a main intersection and everybody start-
ed honking at him that he jumped out to grope under the hood . . . and then found he'd locked himself out of the car. * * *
Kids are still bubbling over with small talk. A five-year-old girl in Wellington. B.C., watched her grandfather repairing a soft spot in the driveway and subsequently reported. “Granddad buried a hole." A boy the same age in Bradford. Ont., shook his head after watching the ladies of a TV ballet dancing about on their toes and declared, "Couldn't they just use taller girls?" And an Edmonton youngster, mystified to find the woman next door didn’t live with her mummy and daddy, demanded, "Well, who tells you to don't?”
It is a psychiatrist’s professional task to plumb the depths of his patients' psyches to uncover why they behave the way they do. We figure it must often drive psychiatrists to taking their own tranquilizers just trying to figure out the things that happen to them personally. As for instance the psychiatrist who re-
cently had his car stolen in Burnaby, B.C., then later recovered by police. We wonder if he’s figured out yet why whoever stole it left a dead heron in the trunk.
According to Parade’s mail every truck driver in Canada has chalked or painted a sign on the back—“Have wife, must travel.” It was with relief we received a flash from London. Ont., where a scholarly Parade spy not only spotted a quotation in Latin on a truck there but was able to translate it for us: “STAT
MAGNI NOMINIS UMBRA” or "He stands in the shadow of a great name." Our spy broke all the speed laws to overtake the truck and look at the side of it. where it was identified as belonging to an electrical contractor named “A. J. Shakespeare.”
As spring comes along and turns your street into a mud wallow we offer two useful tips passed on by other readers, one for parent and one for child victims of the annual spring thaw. It was a mother on Avondale Avenue, Ottawa, who did a complete change job on her soaking four-year-old three times in one morning before emerging with a dipper determined to bail out every pothole on the block. And it was an eleven-year-old girl in St. Boniface, Man., who got her bicycle completely stuck in the mud and herself covered with it, and went crying off down the street—but not home. A few minutes later she returned sitting in the cab of a tow truck, where her tears had turned to smiles by the time the truck driver had hoisted her bike onto the back of the truck and driven both girl and bike away to safety.
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