By javie aiche
~ pondent sat beside her.
his maternal parent.
claim the honor; maybe even the
Moose have horned in. But, if you
want to go beyond Miss Jarvis you
will have to knock on the doors
of the Eternal Church that for time
Le untold has set aside all of May as
a month of honor to Mother—the
‘Mother of God.
There is no need here to recount
the steps taken. Mother’s Day swept
out of the mind of that modest
maiden lady, seeking only to pay
homage to the memory of her own
dead mother, out of her mind into
the minds and souls of others, and
finally into law.
It was twenty years later that
your correspondent called on Miss
Jarvis, just to find out how she felt
~ about being the inspirator of an
~ ideal that had become so universal
that poor father was clamoring for
"a little recognition too. And Miss
Jarvis told this narrator that if
there was one thing else she could
do before she died it would be to
repeal Mother's Day. It had be-
come to her an abomination.
‘Why? Well, if you read LIFE you
will notice that commercial aggran-
dizement is going to make it possi-
ble for you to never write another
letter of friendly correspondence.
A great printing house has designed
5,000 kinds of cards, covering every
possible contingency in average ex-
‘perience, You want to write a friend
and there is a card to do it with.
That's what happened about
Mother's Day, and that was what
struck a devilish blow in the holy
design of the maiden lady who
started out to honor mothers and
handed, instead, a gold mine to the
profiteers of the emotions. Miss
Jarvis pointed to florist advertise-
ments in the newspapers and to
ads of the telegraph companies and
‘the plans for promotion of politicians
by concupiscent celebration.
“I hate Mothers’ Day,” declared
the day’s creator. “I hide myself
every time it occurs.” :
Your correspondent doesn’t know
whether Miss Jarvis still is alive.
It is at least an earnest wish that
she hasn't read the current issue
of LIFE. She liked two poems your
correspondent wrote and maybe
they still are in her scrap-book. If
i they are, here’s chance for you, too,
to look in:
. MOTHER
No longer red the lips whose cherry
a bloom
Once lured my sire to call thee
fairest maid,
Low-burning in the twilight’s gath-
ering gloom
The lights that made thine eyes
to flash and fade.
Time’s snows have paled thy cheeks
: and Time's rude hand
Has coursed the alabaster of thy
brow,
Yet nowhere in this Spring-enchant-
ed land
Smiles flower so fair as to my
love art thou.
No touch to artist given could €’er
avail :
To trace the charms which thy
sweet face enfold, :
‘The pen that would attempt thy
i epic tale
Must halt before one-half the
truth is told.
Had I the gold of earth, the gems
that hide
In ocean depths, to give them all
to thee,
Still would I own them incomplete
beside
The sacrifices thou hast made
for me.
Ah, Mother, words are only empty
praise.
Though love that lies within my
mortal ken
Exalts me truly, still my hopes I
raise
To find thy station in this world
of men. 2
An angel thou, and I just flesh and
bone
Unfit to breathe thy name except
in prayer,
Thy destiny a place beside the
Throne,
God grant that I shall know and
serve thee there.
That was for the living mother,
~ this one for the mother sainted in
death:
DEDICATION
She who taught my lips to frame
Sweet petitions in Your Name,
Stands before You, Lord, her claim
Sanctified.
What of joy in life may be
She in prayer besought for me,
For herself to willingly
Be denied.
Love that in her heart was rife
Sought to save me from all strife,
Happily she made her life
Sacrifice.
These the ashes, Lord, her soul
With Eternity is whole,
Blest finality, the Goal!
ia Paradise! :
Don’t let them tell you different.
the occasion we are about to respect.
nal Order of Eagles have tried tog
The second decade of the Twentieth Century had just begun when
~ Anna Jarvis rapped on the collective conscience of the City Club and
asked for endorsement of her plan to create Mother's Day. Your corres-
As much as Miss Jarvis impressed the club
members, equally she convinced a rambling reporter.
deed, be a Mother's Day, one day of each year in which there should
come to outward show the inner love that every decent mortal holds for
There should, in-
Anna Jarvis was the founder of
High-flying members of the Frater-
i NS
THE LOW DOWN FROM
HICKORY GROVE
It is easy to work your-
self into a sweat 2 or 3
times a day, if you take
everything you hear too
serious. The woods. are
full of people making a
living—and staying in of-
ce—by scaring up things
to fix, and telling us they
are the only ones who are
equal to the task. i
We are told there are
so many things ailing us
that we are believing it—
and are about ready for
the hospital.
But I just been reading
what a banker has to say.
I read a little of every-
thing. I even read what
the men are gonna wear
this spring or mext fall
—but don’t.
This banker is a Mr.
Burgess—he gives simple
answers versus complicat-
ed ones. He says the thing
bogging us down is the
Socialism germ we picked
up from Europe. And
labor, he says, ts gonna
wake up with the biggest
headache of all. ?
I am kind of glad I read
what the gent had to say.
I’m going to ask Uncle Joe
Paxton here at our bank,
what kind of a person this
Mr. Burgess is — every-
body around here asks
Joe about everything.
Yours with the low down,
JO SERRA.
= —B8
FOOTNOTES
~ By EMMONS BLAKE
Every night now when I take my
dog for a walk, I stop on a cliff
overlooking the ocean and listen for
a sound that I really never expect
to hear, but the mere listening for
it is enjoyable. The sound is that
of Portuguese fishermen singing.
From my cliff point I can see their
lights bobbing a half-mile or so off-
shore where they have heaved-to
for the night. I imagine they are
singing because they themselves
have told me that next to sleeping,
singing is the best form of rest, and
I have seen a concertina hanging
beside the cabin door on each boat.
Last winter when my brother was
home on furlough and our California
lobster season was in full swing, we
put out homemade traps, box-like
structures made of slats, that lobs-
ters could get into but not out of.
We would get up early in the morn-
ing and row out in the thin mist to
pull our traps and exclaim over our
meagre catch. Some days we would
have caught a Japanese crab. These
long-legged creatures are a delicacy
in salads and gre much prized by
mothers of ! amateur lobstermen.
They have no commercial value be-
cause of the small percentage of
meat per crab.
Every morning as we worked over
our traps we could hear the power
boats of the Portuguese fishermen.
They too laid traps, but would store
their catch in their boats until they
had a full load before returning to
port. Their boats would ease
through the mist with a sound not
unlike water pouring from an up-
sidedown milk-bottle, a muffled,
rhythmic gulping.
- These Portuguese men were very
friendly and talkative. It was in
early morning conversations that I
learned about their love of song.
Occasionally they would toss us a
particularly fine lobster, saying that
their market was not interested in
beauty, only in weight. Too, they
caught many crabs, and after we
made friends with them they agreed
to trade them to us every day for
two apples and a morning paper.
Five times we took the apples and
paper out and brought back crabs
in return. As the Portuguese had no
radio, the paper we took out to them
was their only source of news be-
tween calls at port. The sixth day
when we handed over our part of
the bargain they dumped the crabs
into our rowboat and threw the
paper back on top of them. As we
raised questioning faces to the big
fisherman leaning on the rail above
us one of them explained.
, “The news is not very good these
days; you'd better make that four
‘apples and forget the paper.”
COMING
S. ALE
/ FORTHE
(dz?
THE SAFETY VALVE
What About War Aims?
Editor, The Post:
Juxtaposed (excepting for a car-
toon) on your estimable Page Six
of last week are two reasons why
the United States of America should
know something of the war aims
before actually entering the con-
flict.
I doubt that it was whimsy on the
part of Edith Blez. She probably
was writing only factually and un-
der inspiration of an unusual hap-
penstance. But, down there some-
where past the middle of her screde
there was the amazement ex-
pressed by an English sailor, amaze-
ment that young men and young
women here are all of one distinc-
tion, that no barriers are drawn.
For himself, said the young man,
he realized his social position. He
could go no higher. He must needs
bow to the dictdtes of birth. And
he had spent four and one-half
years in the service of Majesty, even
finding it easy to face death for his
betters.
Across the page, Howell E. Rees,
suffused by the emanations of Roy-
alty, bedazzled by the beauty of
the Union Jack floating from the
bastions of New Providence, radiat-
ed respect to redundance. And
Howell can write the best column
any true American would want to
read. I ask Howell to write again,
this time on the frightful poverty
of The Bahamas, in the places the
tourists are not asked to visit. The
places happen to be the most part
of The Bahamas..
What I want to know, when we
fight this time, are we prolonging
the class distinctions fostered by
English royalty? What I want to
know is, can it be possible that even
a fine mind such as Howell possesses
genuflects to the titled nobility that
is only of inheritance and not of
achievement? Is it possible that
F. D. R. was also bedazzled, when
a King and Queen deigned to be
his guests?
Sure, we're going to fight. But,
if for democracy, then let it be the
democracy that will afford that
young sailor an even chance to ad-
vance his social welfare. Let it
be for the utter extinction of the
idea that any man is owed esteem
merely because he was born right.
—J.V. H.
. A Park For All
Eritor, The Post:
One of the finest bits of editorial
writing, among your numberless fine
editorials was, “What Price Fresh
Air?”
For some time, members of the
Community Council have been giving
considerable study to a solution of
the problems suggested in your ed-
itorial. Certainly, of all places under
the sun, this region should have
some form of organized recreation
and at least, a Community IHouse
and a Recreation Park in the way
of facilities. The added danger of
high-speed traffic over the new
highways about Dallas should be
anticipated. Mere lamentation never
solves such problems.
Pursuint to the idea for securing
support for such a program, mem-
bers of the Community Council sub-
mitted the idea to the Dallas Town-
ship Supervisors. Let it be said to
their credit that they approved the
acceptance of a tract of ground ad-
The Post's Readers
“More than a newspaper,
a community institution”
THE DALLAS POST
ESTABLISHED 1889
A non-partisan liberal
progressive newspaper_pub-
lished every Friday morning
at its plant on Lehman Ave-
nue, Dallas, Penna., by the
Dallas Post, Inc.
Entered as second-class matter
at the post office at Dallas, Pa,
under the Act of March 3, 1879.
Subscriptions, $2 a year, payable
in advance.
Single copies, at a rate of Sc
each, can be obtained every Fri-
day morning at the following
newsstands: Dallas; Hislop’s Rest-
aurant, Tally-Ho Grille; Shaver-
town, Evans’ Drug Store; Hunts-
ville, Frantz Fairlawn Store.
Editor and Publisher
HOWARD W. RISLEY
Associate Editor
MYRA ZEISER RISLEY
Contributing Editors
FRED M. KIEFER
JOHN V. HEFFERNAN
Mechanical Superintendent
HAROLD J. PRICE
joining Dallas Borough, for a Rec-
reation Park, a proposition that was
rejected by the Borough Council
some six years ago. The deed to
the ground has been recorded in
favor of the Township. Subsequent-
ly, a plan of the Park was prepared,
through the support of members of
the Community Council, by Mr. Car-
roll. Subsequently, an application
for a N. Y. A. Project to create a
modern recreational playground was
approved by the Township Super-
visors and is now awaiting the ap-
proval of the N, Y. A. The Com-
mittee will continue its efforts untli
the park has become a reality.
In view of the fact that the pro-
posed park will be practically in the
heart of Dallas, it would be a mis-
fortune if Dallas children were un-
able to feel free to use the Park. The
answer to any objection to this by
citizens of Dallas Township who will
own the new Park could be easily
removed if the Borough erected a
Community Center where, particu-
larly during the winter, and days of
bad weather the Township children
would be welcome.
Hundreds of communities of the
size of Dallas have solved this prob-
lem. We have abundant literature
and plans for such a building gath-
ered by the Dallas J. Women’s
Club members of our Committee. The
building could be made large enough
to house the Fire Company, pro-
vide a modern health clinic, an audi-
torium and such facilities for recre-
ation as are most needed.
One thing is apparent: That the
organization of public support for
such a building is all that is neces-
sary, according to the best authori-
ties on the subject.
With kindest personal regards to
you and Mrs, Risley, y
in Cordially yours,
Dallas, Pa. Peter P. Jurchak.
3
er
)
THE
BOOK SHELF
Casanova’s Women
Frederick A. Stokes Co.
By John Erskine
812 Pages — $2.50 \
John Erskine’s name may now be
added to the list of debunkers of
famous men. In his latest book,
|Casanova’s Women, Mr. Erskine in-
forms us that the famous lover was
not as great a master of his art as
he himself would have had the
world believe.
Giacomo Girolamo Casanova, Che-
valier de Seingalt, indulged in what
modern psychologists call phantasy.
He wanted to have the reputation
of being a philanderer and a rake,
and failing to earn it by deed, he
proceeded to invent it by exaggera-
ting his memoirs.
We see him first in Venice at Car-
nival time in the year 1746. Because
of his somewhat embarrassing fi-
nancial condition, Casanova had be-
come a fiddler in a small orchestra.
One evening soon after his return
to the city, he is lucky enough to
save an old and distinguished man
from dying of an apoplectic stroke.
Upon further investigation, it is
found that the old gentleman is the
very wealthy Signor Matteo Gio-
vanni Bragadin. In gratitude for his
having saved his life, Signor Braga-
din adopts Casanova and makes him
his heir.
Meanwhile, Casanova has met a
barber’s very charming daughter,
Guiliana, and has become so enar-
mored that he plans to marry her.
Signor Bragadin, however, anxi-
ous to remove his new son from the
double temptation of a pretty girl
and the gaming tables, gives him
enough gold to permit him to tra-
vel in comfort, and sends him away,
telling him not to return to Venice
until it is Carnival time again.
Thus begin the adventures that
take Casanova to many of the most
beautiful cities in Europe, and lead
him almost into the arms of some
of the most charming women of
those cities. But Casanova, the mas-
ter love-maker, doesn’t seem to be
able to conduct his love affairs suc-
cessfully, His women outwit him
every time, and he is left to move
on to another city and another
pretty face. Even when his con-
science gets the best of him, and he
considers marriage, which phenom-
enon occurs often, he is not taken
seriously. All in all, either because
of his unfortunate love affairs, or
his bad luck at gambling, Casanova
is glad when his year is up and he
can return to Venice, to his lovely
Guiliana, and to further adventures.
John Erskine has written a plea-
ant, entertaining book about a
charmingly conceited man. He cer-
tainly proves that Casanova was a
rake merely in his ambitions,
“The interminable statistics of
Casanova’s boudoir campaigns fail
to convince”, writes Mr. Erskine.
“And”, he adds, “what the ladies
thought of him, we can guess.”
THE SENTIMENTAL SIDE
: By EDITH BLEZ
and moth balls.
Housecleaning, Housecleaning, Housecleaning!
Fall there is no peace until the housecleaning is done. No matter where
I go, with the exception of the gatherings where there are no fair ladies,
the conversation always gets around to housecleaning.
variably begins and ends with a sad sad story about dust, and closets,
Is there anybody anywhere, at this time of the year,
who doesn’t have housecleaning at least on her conscience?
There is always one group who housecleans early and gloats over
the other group who dares to wait until the last part of May or the first
THE OLD
SCRAPBOOK
By "Bob" Sutton
It is the providence and will of
God to give us a hard job.
Trouble is usually produced by
those who produce nothing else.
Eternity has no gray hairs.
: 5
Lord, while for all mankind we pray,
Of every clime and coast;
O, hear us for our native land
The land we love the most.
O, guard our shores from every foe;
With peace our borders bless,
Our cities with prosperity
Our fields with plenteousness.
Lord of the nations, thus to thee,
Our country we commend;
Be thus her refuge and her trust,
Her everlasting Friend.
Better mend one fault in yourself
than a hundred in another.
He that is taught by himself has
a fool for his schoolmaster.
- If you want to be miserable, think
of yourself and your troubles.
“POETRY
A RECIPE FOR A DAY
Take a little of cold water
And a little leaven of prayer,
And a little bit of morning sunshine
Dissolved in morning air.
Add to your meal some merriment
And a thought for kith and kin,
And then, as your prime ingredient,
A pleasant word throw in.
But spice it all with the essence of
love
Add a little whiff of play,
And the wise old Book and a glance
above
Complete the well-made day.
a i
FREEDOM
The columnists and con-
tributors on this page are
allowed great latitude in
expressing their own opin-
ions, even when their
opinions are at variance
with those of The Post
The talk in-
of June. It is practically impossible
to be a rugged individualist about
this business of cleaning house. You
simply cannot say: “I am not going
to clean house.” If you are brave
enough to insist that you keep your
house clean all the time you are
marked for life. You just don’t be-
long! You are definitely and for-
ever “that woman who doesn’t clean
house every Spring and Fall,” you
are that woman who lives in a
filthy house where everything must
be in terrible shape. Imagine a wo-
man daring not to clean house!
You will go down in history as that
woman who didn’t clean house and
you will never live it down. If you
do not believe in housecleaning keep
it to yourself.
dangerous to breathe it to a living
soul!
There are more dispositions ruined
and more families put into a dither
by housecleaning than anything else
I might mention. Poor father, how
he hates the sound of the word. He
hears whispers of it in March, and
loud exclamations in April, and be-
fore he can put a stop to it he finds
himself right in the middle of it.
Father most certainly does not enjoy
being in the midst of a general up-
heaval and most of all he doesn’t
look forward to the day when the
windows will be deprived of their
curtains, and. the house begins to
take on that bare look which fits
in alright with hot summer days
but what about the days when it
isn’t so warm, and it is dampy and
chilly? Father wants curtains at
the windows and when he is told -
that curtains are only summer dust
collectors that blow against the
screens, he isn’t convinced. Father
wants curtains!
‘While we are on this subject of
housecleaning let's straighten out
a couple of very important points.
Who cleans the cellar and under
whose supervision is the third floor
whipped into shape? Does Mother
clean everything or does the head
of the house take some part in the
general overhauling? If father is
trusted to clean the third story
will he make much progress?
he get lost in old magazines; and
there is always the possibility that
he might find a few old pictures and
letters he didn’t know were still
around. Mother knows what is in
the third story but I have my
doubts about turning father loose
up there and what about the cellar?
It seems like Father’s job but he
isn’t so good at discarding things.
He is likely to become distressed
over throwing too many things
away. He can always find use for
things mother believes should be
discarded. Frankly the only real
solution for cellars and third stories
seems to be some neutral person
who is really interested in getting
things straightened out without too
much time out to delve into the
past!
Frankly I will be very glad to wel-
come Memorial Day because, gen-
erally speaking, the housecleaning
blues will be over, at least those
who haven’t done their houseclean-
ing will not have the nerve to men-
tion it, and we can all settle down
until fall when the housecleaning
battle cry will begin all over again
to the same old tune.
SPS 3g
The World’s News Seen Throug
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“I WOULD BE GRUE”
o o ~» HOWARD ARNOLD WALTER. +» ~ »
I would be true, for there are those who trust me:
1 would be pure, for there are those who care:
1 would be strong, for there is much to suffer;
I would be brave. for there is much to dare.
_GREAT'HYMNS
This youthful message was not written to be a hymn, but a creed-
poem, sent straight from the heart of a young man to his mother Ii is
the philosophy of a courageous son who
himself alone, but for those who are weak and suffering. Itisa personal 3
challenge to youth everywhere.
7
{HOWARD H. WDOLBERT
glories in daring. not for |
Yr per
FUNERAL DIRECTOR
(27: at] 400 8 SHAVERTOWN, PA.
Ears SORE mS
Every Spring and
It is really quite"
will
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