HAVE YOU A HOBBY?

Evening Post, Volume CXXIII, Issue 40, 17 February 1937, Page 22

HAVE YOU A HOBBY?

POSSIBLE EXAMPLES

WHICH ALL MAY ENJOY

A- man whoso name escapes me at the moment, once said that every person should have a hobby. I am inclined to agree with him, and I really believe that most of us have hobbies of one kind or another, but for the benefit of the man without a hobby I may as well give a little "consideration to the subject, writes Tom Melville in the Winnipeg "Free Press." A hobby common to all of us, I think, is the buying and saving of lottery tickets. Still there may be a few souls immune from the practice, although most of us buy tickets on everything from dollar chocolates to a trip to the moon, and save these pasteboards for years in the vain hope that should one be a winner,, we have the stub in our possession, and possession is nine points of the law. I always pinned my tickets one to the other, and when I quit the hobby I had a huge roll, which, if it were possible to refund, would have netted me a tidy sum. At least a tidy sum for this day and age. On two occasions I was a lucky winner in my pursuit of quick riches. Once I became the owner of a shotgun, but having no desire to kill, I disposed of the weapon for ten dollars. I hold the belief that there is a place in heaven for the man who loves animals, and anyway I needed Die ten at the time. On the other occasion I held the winning ticket on a gold watch, "easily worth fifty dollars," as the man told me when he sold me the ticket. MUSSOLINI'S CHANCE. A hobby peculiar to men is the saving of razor blades. Disposal of the used blade is a major problem, and I am told that a fortune awaits the man •who is successful in discovering a method by which they may be safely taken care of. Last winter Mussolini was in a fine position to make himself the benefactor of mankind, but I don't suppose the thought occurred to him. If, instead of calling for gold wedding rings, he had asked for old razor blades, I am sure the response would have been instantaneous, not only in his own land, but in every country, in the world, with the possible exception of Scotland. In Scotland, I understand, there is no used-blade problem, as each Caledonian dies with the same blade in his razor that he started with. I cannot vouch for this statement, however, because I left Scotland as a wee' lad with nothing on my face but a canny look. Another hobby, but probably not a common one. is the collecting of the pins which come out of new shirts. Every man at one time or the other purchases a new shirt, and must undergo the trying process of removing the pins therefrom. Now these pins are not of the ordinary garden variety of pins such as one may find in a pin cushion. They are smaller and more elusive, and cause a great deal of annoyance to the owner of the shirt. A man spends at least half an hour removing the pins from a shirt, yet when he dons the garment, one pin will jab him in a soft spot the very first time he sits down. Despite this fact, men have been known to save these pins for yeaers on end and derive a great deal of satisfaction in doing so. I have ever attempted a collection of this sort, simply because my shirts are few and far between, although there are enough pins in one shirt to start a fair-sized collection. SAVING PLATES. Now, take the man who drives an automobile. He is a law-abiding citizen and once a year he hies himself to a Government office and buys a licence for his car. What does he do with last year's plates? Does he throw them in the dustbin? No, he does not. He either places them away carefully on a shelf in the garage, or else he tacks them up on the wall, immediately below the plates of the preceding year, noting with a certain amount of pride, that he now has a collection numbering ten or more consecutive sets. Perhaps in his youth he was a collector of cigarette picture cards, and the hobby lay dormant within him until the advent of the auto licence. Be that as it may, nevertheless there's the evidence tacked on the garage wall. The saving of old shoes and vests which have outlived the rest of the suit is by, no means an uncommon hobby, and .no matter how many times a fellow threatens to toss these articles out, he never gets around to it. Old felt hats may also be included in this category, as a man is supposed to have a tender spot in his heart for his old fedora. Stamp collecting is considered one of the finest, hobbies going, and I often thought of starting to be a stamp saver. Yet if I become a collector, and admitted it to someone, by saying I was a philatelist, he would probably confide to me sympathetically that his uncle suffers from the same thing and that the doctors gave him but two months to live. The married man who washes dishes after every meal cannot be considered as haying a hobby. He only has a habit, picked up during liis courting days, when he generously told his light of love that he would do anything under the sun for her. He is doing it now, with an apron around his middle, wondering all the while why he had to make so many rash statements in order to win the love he sought. FROGS AND MUSHROOMS. According to different advertisements I've noticed, there is no, limit to one's hobbies. You may raise giant frogs if you care for frogs, or grow mushrooms in your cellar. There is no end of fun in raising Belgian rabbits, the ads. say, and you can surprise your friends by learning the art of taxidermy. Just what you do after the neighbourhood is overrun by rabbits, or the basement is full of mushrooms, and you've stuffed all the birds in sight, Ido not know. I guess it doesn't really matter, as you have the hobby, and that's what we're looking for. All this goes to show that the hobbies are there for the asking. If you haven't got one, pick one out, and go to it. My own particular, hobby is watching steam shovels at work. I will admit that in recent years I have not had the pleasure of witnessing very many of them at work, but I have beautiful memories of the palmy days when shovels were working in almost every vacant lot, and these memories will tide me over until another building boom comes along. I know there must be many watchers who are just as eager for the return of the old days as I am. As I remember, a fellow had to fight for elbow room on the fences which encircled the excavations where the mechanical marvels performed. I spent many happy hours draped over those fences, filled with admiration at the skill of the huge machines, and often missed a meal or two when I became too enthralled with my hobby.

It is no wonder I yearn for the old days. I miss my hobby, and today my heart beats a wee bit faster every time I pass an idle steam shovel on some builder's lot, and I always hope that the day is not far distant when excavating once more becomes a major industry, so that I may be able to return again to my old hobby of steam shovel watching