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Physician
M v urotheh, a physician, was killed in an airplane
trash during World War II. I still remember his many un
selfish acts of goodness before he was called into service.
One cold afternoon, for instance, I drove with him to a
farm to see a patient who was recovering from an operation.
To his astonishment, my brother discovered her not in bed
but in the barn milking a cow. Her only excuse and it
was a good one was that the cow needed milking.
My brother sent her into the house to prepare for the
examination, then he sat down, finished the milking job,
stored the milk, bedded the cow down for the night and
with great dignity returned to his patient. Mrs. Noell B.
Smith, Danville, Va.
HOW TO RUN A FARM. During a recent fathers'
meeting of our local Future Farmers of America group, the
discussion turned to ways of keeping youths interested in
farm careers. Most of the men complained that their sons
were only interested in hurrying through school and getting
into some other line of work.
One highly successful FFA dad, who's had no trouble
holding his three sons on the farm, sat quietly through the
discussion until he was asked, "Mr. Amos, how do you do it?"
"Well," he replied slowly, "you've got to make each boy
feel that he, personally, is a vital part of the farm's operation,
not just an unimportant farmhand."
I didn't fully appreciate this psychology until a few days
later when I drove past his farm. There, over the driveway,
was a sign, "Jim, Dick, & Bob Amos & Father." P.G., Car
pinteria, Calif.
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. . . now frustrating to be made aware of limitations.
Sometimes the cords of mine cut into my heart. I long to
be free of myself and my boundaries and to rise unham
pered into the unknown.
I cannot. In a sense, I am enslaved by what I do and
don't do, by what I am capable, and incapable, of achieving.
It's a difficult business learning to live with myself. It's
like sharing a lifetime of sleeping and eating and breathing
and talking with a stranger within.
And sometimes I find I must cry out against my keeper
or challenge him in flagrant violation of my strength.
Each man has his own stranger and his own boundaries.
I sat in a restaurant one night and looked about me at the
faces of those I shall never know. Suddenly I seemed to
see beyond them and into the limits. Here sat a woman who
longs for youth and cannot acquire it by any artifice. And
there a man filled with a fear he is ashamed to admit and
not powerful enough to conceal. Beyond them a child who
will grow and mature and die and never know his dreams.
I have my longings, too. I long to shed my cares and fears.
I long to defy the world to defeat my desires. I long to
realize each wish I wish and every hope I hope.
But the stranger within me is with me still and the cords
have not slackened. What I need most of all is the under
standing of both and the knowledge that I am truly a
prisoner of neither.
Perhaps a man becomes more through tolerance of him
self than through tension. Perhaps great men are only those
vho accept the fences I fight.
I must come one day to know that I am myself, limita
tions and all. What I give to myself and the world, how
ever small my gift, will never be given again.
AMIir WIIKir. 179 N M.h.gan A.e . Lh.cagn I. IH Leonard S ravidow gbl.i-.er; Wa ter C. P-cvui. Assoc Ve Publir; Ben Ka'tman Editorial Director
P'it O e.fe Advert s no. D.reitor- Me en.e De P oft Foo4 Ea.tor- W.il am A. rer. A-t Die. tor; lotct Mig-bbco Menaj aa Eo tor- Aitoeiate Ed, tort- Kr.,r
V Brown, Jack Ryan, Honore S.nger, Jerry Kie n New York Peer J. 6ppenne n,er. hollvwood. 9 ' N"oc'8' " 'on. Kevir
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