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ANien i was a little girl in Alabama, every February
I used to help my mother gather daffodils and hyacinths
which grew wild around our house. Mother would pack
them in wet Spanish moss and mail them to her mother up
north. I felt ashamed when I thought of Grandmother get
ting a package of wilted common flowers when she could
easily buy hothouse flowers at a florist.
Last Summer I married and moved to Vermont, and early
this year, as snow swirled around our home, I opened a
package from Mother. Inside lay a breath of Spring: flowers
exactly like Mother sent to her mother. As I inhaled their
delicate fragrance, I realized then how happy they must
have made Grandmother. Mrs. A. B., Thetjord, Vt.
TEACHER GOES TO BAT. Our boy barely passed
the first grade and had to attend Summer school to make
up his marks from second grade. In third grade he continued
to get failing marks, and I was desperate. Then he had a
change of teachers and shortly after I received a note:
"Please show your son the correct way to bat a ball. It will
help develop his self-confidence." It was so surprising and
such a change from the kind of notes I had been getting!
I took her advice and ever since my son's grades have
improved. It might have been my coaching, but I think most
of the credit should go to that wonderful teacher who took
a sympathetic interest in every phase of my son's life. Mrs.
Birch G. MeVay, Lake Charles, La.
NEVER TOO BUSY. One day as I was doing my
weekly ironing, my four-year-old daughter began blowing
air on my ankles through a plastic straw. After a while she
asked me if it tickled, and I told her it did.
"Then why don't you laugh?" she asked, puzzled.
Hurrying with my work, I told her I was too busy.
Putting her hands on her hips, she looked at me very
seriously and said, "You should never be too busy to laugh."
I had to agree with her, and I've thought since that the
world would be a much better place if we were "never too
busy to laugh." Mrs. Tom Smith, Summitville, Ind.
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Family Weekly, J79 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago 1, III.
... I rave played 321 games of solitaire and read 27
paperback books. I have won not a single game of cards
and almost all the books feature illicit relations on the
Riviera or untidy folk who made a messy job of murder.
I am on my vacation and there is thus only one logical
reason for such idiocy. It is raining. Not only that, it has
been raining for 10 days.
The rain has made all the parched populace delirious with
joy. I have nothing at all against joy but the rain has turned
me into a pitiful kind of shrew who nurtures an overpow
ering desire to pound her erstwhile sunburnt head against
the nearest palm tree.
When it rains here, the newspapers, in cooperation with
the Chamber of Commerce, call it "showers." It showered
quite a lot last night. It showered so much that the cottage's
tired old knees trembled and the waves vomited part of
Brownsville, Tex., on my doorstep. I am not in Brownsville,
however. I am 800 miles away.
The gulls sat around in their petticoats until the thunder
and lightning drove them past my window about 40 miles
an hour. They have been blown to Capistrano to surprise
the swallows.
Really, the first day of rain wasn't bad. It gave my peeling
legs a nice rest.
"This is fun," I said. "A chance for one day of being cozy."
It's not fun to be cozy for more than a day at a time on
vacation. I don't know how to tat.
Ennui set in heavily the next morning. The third day I
scanned the horizon for Noah's Ark. The other days have
swum in undulant procession. The roof has begun to leak
and the windows aren't that watertight About my closet
there is a scent of aged fish and wet raincoats. That, I feel,
is strange. We've caught no fish and I have no raincoat.
When I awoke today, I was coughing a little. The thunder
rolls through me like a monsoon. And I have just completed
the weather forecast.
"Scattered showers," it proclaims. "No change."
There'll be one. I'm going home.
AJdtew a' communication! about editorial fejturt to family Weekly 179 N MicVain Av rt,v . ... e , ' ... c.mik
We.l. .SI N. M.M A.... Cco.m. Co , C.p,-i9 .7 b, f.-..,.,, Ji,,? Z.'u. lf-
PAMI1V WEIKIT, 179 N. Michigan Ave . Chicago I
Patrick v Kou'fce, Aiivcming erector; Meian.e
Ran. Jerry .ie,n. New Tori.