The Social
Season Is On
ROÑA
WORKMAN
MORRIS
The social season is in full
swing at Boulder Camp. A week
ago I attended a “baby shower”
and another is scheduled for today.
As long as the new supply of new
babies holds out there will, ap
parently be social events. I was
led to believe, judging from my
first view of the camp, that there
was at least one Biblical injunction
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PEBBLE
CREEK DAIRY
Timber Rt., Box 56
Vernonia, Oregon
that loggers follow; namely, the
one which exhorts man to be
fruitful and replenish the earth.
However, when I learned the real
statistics in this matter it does
not add up to a very high average
since there are but fifteen families
in camp and only twenty-six
children, but when you put twenty-
six children on a narrow ledge of
the mountain-side, the impression
is that there must be at least tw:
hundred.
It was a very interesting party,
this baby-shower of which I
speak. I was late, of course, but
this time, at least, I did have a
legitimate reason. You see, in a
moment of temporary insanity I
had offered to teach Spanish to
the six “upper-graders” in our
little school and they had taken me
up on it. On this day the Spanish
hour and the social hour overlap
ped, so I had to gallop madly
home, change into festive array,
wash the chalk dust from my
hands, give a “lick and promise”
to my wild hair (and it was. wild,
because trying to instil Spanish
into them is something like trying
to teach a bunch of ring-tailed
monkeys to speak English) then
trot back up the logging road to
the party.
Few of the houses in camp are
large. Too be entirely truthful,
most of the living rooms make a
tight fit for five or six people, and
when you try to put into them
fifteen women, eight small child
ren and two or three babies, it
does seem to give a slightly
sardinish feeling. I managed, be
Advertisement
From where I sit... // Joe Marsh
We Got to the Fish Fry
After All
That community fish fry was
sure a great success. There were
plenty of appetizing extras, and
Will Dudley did a right wonder
ful job of frying the fish—soft
and flaky inside—brown and crisp
around the edges.
But we didn’t get to go. The
missus was tired after working
in the yard, and we just didn’t
want to leave her.
Then how did we know the fish
was so good? Because the folks
didn't forget us. They sent Skippy
Henderson over with two steam-
ing covered plates of fish, and a
pitcher of eool, sparkling beer. And
we finished them off in front of
our own fire.
From where I sit, that’s one of
the things that makes our town
so nice a place to live in: a spirit
of share and share alike. That
plate of fish and glass of beer
weren’t just great eating, they
were symbols of the thoughtful
ness that makes for better living!
Copyright, 1917, United States Brewers Foundation
READY FOR YOU NOW
ing somwhat skinny, to slither
myself in between the others on
the little davenport, tried to tuck
my feet under the edge to keep
the hostess from tripping over
them, found I couldn’t get them
there so had to keep jerking them
back whenever she passed, Then
by a bit of legerdemain I got my
sewing out of its bag and settled
back to be sociable. I learned
one thing shortly after: don’t take
your sewing with you to affairs
up here. You are liable to find
you have been embroidering on
your neighbor’s handiwork or her
party dress. It is best to just sit
still—you have to do that, anyway,
for you can’t move—and talk.
Talk doesn’t take up much space,
and it doesn’t matter too much
what you say, for in all that
babble no one can hear you any
way unless you shout.
I admired our charming hostess.
Slim and quick, she managed to
carry on most graciously in her
little eight-by-twelve living room,
but trying to figure out how she
could get in four card tables for
serving refreshments taxed even
her ingenuity.
To complicate
matters further, by this time
school was out, and the greater
portion of the scholars were con
tinually barging in to ‘ask mother’
something, or so they said, but
even a causal observer might
have deduced their real interest
lay not in their mothers but in the
cake which the hostess was pass
ing out in the kitchen. Also, in
aqd out among all this were two
fat yellow puppies.
Loggers’ wives, with their small
houses, acquire great, ability in
adjustment, and in some way our
hostess managed to get her tables
and chairs into place and her
guests into them, but I am not
too sure that there were not times
when I was not eating from
my neighbor’s plate, and there is
no doubt that she put sugar into
my coffee thinking the cup was
hers, but what matter? She pro-
bably did not worry about my
germs and I can take sugar in
my coffee under those circum
stances. There was gay talk and
friendliness, and when the very
young son of the house yelped
from the kitchen doorway a very
personal desire, seven women
jumped to their feet and lifted
their chairs, with a mother's
understanding laughter, to clear a
path for his rush to the bathroom,
and I was one of them.
For I, too, have gone to parties
in tiny logging-camp houses and
taken my babies with me. I am
not too sure that there was not a
touch of nostalgia for those days
when some tiny toddling boy or
girl would come up to me and
touch my bright sewing-bag with
curious chubby fingers. It is fun,
these parties, but I cannot help
feeling that it is perhaps for-
tunate that there are only two
really plump women in camp. If
there were more, we would have to
borrow the union hall for social
festivities, and after due consider
ation and with an eye to the future
I think it might be well if I con
trive to lose the two pounds I
have gained since I came up here.
A few extra pounds are liable to
make you a ‘social mis-fit’ in these
houses.
There will, thank God, always be
children in this world, children
and friendliness and laughter. And
that reminds me. I might as well
put in an order for baby gifts in
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quantity. No use in driving out
over these roads every week or
two tn order to buy a baby blanket.
Be prepared, that is my motto
from now on.
Well Being Dug
On Rock Creek
ROCK CREEK—Linda DeVaney
had to be brought to the doctor
Friday afternoon.
Mr. and Mrs. Dale Miller of
Rainier were Tuesday «allers at
the Otto Bittner home.
A well digger « at work at
Buckleys.
Kathleen DeVaney spent from
Tuesday until Sunday with her
aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs.
Frank Gordon, in Portland.
THE EAGLE, VERNONIA, ORE.
Mr. and Mrs. Ben Westerberg
of Garibaldi were week end visi
tors of Mrs. Westerberg parents
Mr. and Mrs. Doc DeVaney.
Mr. and Mrs. Ben Farrell of
Portland were week end visitors of
Mr. and Mrs. Wilbur Pinkham.
Mrs. Iva Gillham, Mrs. Blanche
THURSDAY, MAY
1, 1947
S
DeWitt, Mrs. '£dith Pinkham and
Lucille Lindsay were in Vernonia
Tuesday afternoon.
Ted DeWitt and Don DeWitt
went to Portland Friday.
Several people on Rock Creek
attended the social meeting at
the Vernonia grange Friday night.
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GRANGERS SHAPE THE PATTERN
•f OREGON’S DEVELOPMENT
Would you rather have the goose that laid
the golden eggs or Oregon’s chickens and turkeys?.
Grangers would take Oregon poultry any day.
The U.S. Bureau of Agricultural Economics estimates
the annual value of the state’s poultry and poultry pro
ducts alone at $34,000,000. That is farm wealth which
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113 5 1. I. SALMON STRUT
PORTLAND 14, OREGON