I value the friendship of Kay Parley, a remarkable women who is my senior by six years and who has lived through the reality of challenges and experiences that I can only imagine. A columnist living in a retirement home and struggling with physical impairment, she is celebrating the upcoming publication of her third book by the University of Regina Press. Her two previous well-received books were self-published. I always read her regular newspaper columns. Her thoughtful journeys into the past encourage me to re-examine my own archive of memories.
One detailed memory that has re-emerged is the night in 1942 when Pete Langelle scored the winning goal in the come-from-behind series in which the Toronto Maple Leafs defeated the Detroit Red Wings to take possession of the Stanley Cup. The NHL then believed hockey was a winter sport. The Second World War was raging and I was 15 years old. The radio was playing loudly as Foster Hewitt described the game. I heard only snatches of what he was saying because I was in and out of the house hauling pails filled with fresh snow to dump in the big barrel that stood beside the kitchen range. It was work that needed to be done quickly before the snow was blackened by the chimney pouring out coal smoke. Every spring, small mountains of ashes were hauled away from the lanes in the village. Splitting wood for kindling carrying it and coal in and carrying out ashes were chores big boys were expected to do. I also carried two pails of water home from the village water house every day. A year later, I was a projectionist at the local theatre. Teenagers were expected to be useful.
The changes that have come to my community during my own lifetime could never have been imagined in my birth year when there were still two livery barns in the village and a hitching rail beside the bank. In 1942, a sewer and water system was still 13 years in the future and paved streets were a dream that didn’t materialize until more than a decade later.
In 1942, the village streets were gravelled and so was the highway. The railway was the lifeline that connected the village to the rest of the world. The railway even carried passengers. That service ended in 1954. In 2016 the rails carry only bulk commodities. In 1942, the local movie house was the most important place of entertainment in the village. It couldn’t survive the onslaught of black and white television. In 2016, the publicly owned facilities that have replaced the theatre are more magnificent than anything I ever expected to see. So are the plethora of recreational programs. I have little interest in most of them or even in the menu provided by cable television. Kay Parley, churning out words with an archaic electric typewriter, has no patience with trivia. Neither have I. We both have our own preoccupations. The word is work.
In 2016, automation has replaced human beings in factories. Robotics is replacing operators of farm equipment and will soon replace drivers of cars. Inventors and marketers are looking forward to robots that can do everything humankind is no longer interested in doing. In the past, it was said that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. In the present, all play and no work in likely to turn Jack into a useless creature, addicted to free bread and circuses.
This happened in Rome a long time ago when imports of grains and other foodstuffs from North Africa displaced the products of Roman farms. The entertainment industry flourished. The unemployed were diverted by the bloody spectacles of gladiators, who were slaves, fighting to the death and imported wild animals devouring Christians. The less bloodthirsty of the jobless rabble could enjoy chariot races and theatrical performances. Entertainment was a big industry.
Entertainment now is a huge and growing industry. The only hope I see for people who still want to work is that a single working human being may be cheaper to employ than a robot.
I hope Kay Parley approves of this column.
