The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1912-05-17
FRIDAY, MAY, ~, 1912
Have You Written

Have You Written
The following article written by Sam
Clark, was published in the Minot Re-
porter a couple of years ago:
"Have you written to mother to.
day?" While perusing a copy of the
jolly Elk the other evening, we en-
countered the above query. Somehow
it startled us-that bold yet simple
question-"Have you written to moth
err today?" Outside the elements were
in full swing-a strong wind driving
the rain against the windows of our den;
it was just such a night when the pill
grim who has long since wandered from
home and fireside-when who has
not formed new ties and who has set
tied into that rut in life where he is
known as a bachelor-would naturally
be attracted by that question-''have
you written to your mother today?"
What wonder that we allowed the lit
tie booklet to slip unheeded from our
grasp, while we looked into space and
invited the signing wind to carry US
back to the home and mother of long
ago, how willingly we wouldhave grasp
ed the pen and dashed off those lines Of
love and hope to mother as suggested
by the author Of the question which
captions these thoughts! And yet in
the days agone when this would be
possible, how many, many days we al
lowed to pass without writing to moth
err! Now that she has passed from earth
and beyond the struggles ofdaily life,
we realize all too well that there were
countless times during those college
days, or when on a pleasure expedition,
or even when we set our face West to
carve out a fortune, leaving home and
mother behind, that we might have
spent many of those idle hours in writ
ing to mother. It is such a little thing
but it means so much to her. Most
of US have saved some of mothers let
tiers; sometimes in rummaging through
our trunk we onto them-old fash
toned envelopes, yellow with age, and
the address faded and blurred with the
marks of time. 1t may be that we are
for the white cravat or little
pearl buttons that go with the dress
shirt, thinking only of the pleasure of
the coming dinner party, the theatre or
ball; or perhaps we are looking for the
old blue shirt that completes our
or fishing toys; even so; but
the second u eye encounters that
package of old letters, with the famil-
lar old fashioned handwriting On the
envelope-we hesitate-caress the little
package lovingly and for the moment
allow u thoughts to take swift wing,
back, back to the days of home and
mother. If we have time, we settle
onto the floor, lean against the old
trunk, and idly finger the letters; some
times we start to read one, but seldom
do we get beyond the first line-"My
Dear Boy" What wonder that the
eye is moist and the letter is clasped to
our breast while thoughts of the dear
old mother, her love and trust, her
faith and pride in us, crowd upon the
memory and will not shake off!
"Have you written to mother to-
day?" Wonder what thought prompt
ed the editor of the Jolly Elk when he
wrote that line? Had he just written
to mother, or was he, too, spending the
evening at his desk-a bachelor with
but a choice of his solitary, lonely
room, or the Office on a night when the
elements hold high carnival-reading,
writing or dreaming of the past-the
past in which mother always appears?
But the thought no matter what
prompted it was a noble one. He
might hsve spent hours in writing for
his jolly Elk, but no article. or para
graph or thought, in the entire publica-
ton, will 60 to the hearts of men as
will that one simple question. ''have
you written to your mother today?"
It fastened itself upon US and would
not go; we sat for hours-a dead cigar
between our tight-set teeth-thinking,
thinking of mother. Occasionally our
thoughts would bound back to the pres
ent and some business matter would
claim a minutes consideration, but al
ways. always, our thoughts would
drift back to that question ''have you
written to mother today?"
M Not Et.rt pro,nisex