Fulton County tribune. (Wauseon, Ohio) 1883-1925, 1917-09-14
in STRANGE CITY
Lot of One TranspIanted From
Small Town Is Hard.
Know Until You Know, Which
Makes Things Complicated.

It gives you a queer feeling to be
suddenly transplanted from the little
home town to a crowded city street
made up of houses, houses, houses,
where you don't know a soul, and never
expect to, says writer Ii the Indian
apolis News. City folk don't care who
lives across the street or next door.
They have their friends scattered about
in various places where they can find
them when they want them. But we
small town folk just wonder and Won
der who lives behind all those lovely
front doors, and when we catch a
| glimpse of the inhabitants we're inter-
ested in them and wonder where they
came from and what names they all
| bear.
If by chance we find, from the tele-
| phone directory, that the people just
back of US wear the very same name
we wear, we wonder If they might be
some of our long lost kith and kin,
and if we'd like 'em if we knew 'em!
It's always risky business hunting up
kinfolk, so we'n not try it; but really,
|
so cunning, and the young man who
comes home in the machine at the end
Of the day is so proud of both of them,
that we'd just like to say "Howdy-
you've got the same name we have!"
and take the consequences.
There's the twO-year-old baby three
houses down the street, who waves her
| 10 IQx-5 51x-D
pass. We'd like so to know her name,
and answer the friendly little greeting.
And there is the lonely boy across the
street, who isn't used to city ways yet.
He sits on the front steps with his
elbows on his knees and his chin in
his hands, the most detected looking
lump of boyhOod that you could imag-
inc. You want to cheer him up, and tell
him things will be better when he gets
acquainted, but how in the world is he
to get acquainted? And the young
woman who walks up and down the
back yard of the house across the al
ley, carrying a tiny baby in her arms
and looking anXiously down into its
little face. If was only a little grayer
I'd risk assuming a grandmotherly air
and ask her if the baby is sick And
there's the old man who sits on the
front porch of the handsome house
nearer the car line. We can't decide
for certain whether he is sad OF
grouchy-feeling the bitterness of hav-
ing to live off a son-in-law-or wheth
er he is a hectoring old duffer, worry
ing the soul out of his daughter-in-law
Back home we'd know all about it. And
the handsome woman who sometimes
buys fruit on one side of the Italians
cart while you're buying on the Other
side-you'd like to know her, or yor
think you would.
That's the trouble in the city. Yor
can't know for certain whom you want
to know, until you know-which makes
things complicated. Gradually you
grow accustomed to the strange houses
and strange faces, and form your OWL
ideas.
Gradually you get on speaking terms
: with the shy baby boy next door, sc
that when you go out on the bach
: porch he doesn't make a wild dive fol
: his back porch, but stands up in hi:
sand pile, waving his hands excited,
: while he tells you some wonderful riga
? marole about his bucket and spoon
: and you find him quite as lovable a
: any baby at home.
The city throws the spell about you
$ and you find it mighty interesting ant
4 entertaining, and you grow to love tn
t strange street because it seems hom
e after the little trips away from it. bu
r for country folk used to country ways
e give us the home town, where ever.
e house beams on US like a familiar fac
l as we pass-where we know the peopl
g behind the front doors, and love then
s just because they are our home folk.