San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1925-08-06

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have been many articles in this de
partment about young people. Usual,
those articles have sided with youns
people and criticized the older genera
ton which refused to adapt itself t.
them. But this time / am making Q
plea for understanding from the young
people themselves. / want to make
them see that there are two sides &c
every question, and that the other side
of this Age-and-Youth question is q
particularly tough one to tackle.
think the best way to bring this fact
home will be to tell of something
which recently happened. 1t is true
story.
A girl lay on n slab in the morgue.
She was n little girl, with slender,
balf-formed body and a tiny face. Her
face seemed even smaller in the white
whitening of death. All night had lain
on that slab and no one had come to
claim her. That seemed strange, for
she was only a child, not more than
16 years of age, and seemed wei!
cared for. Surely in some home a
loved daughter must be missing. Yet
as the hours passed no one came near.
But just as the first weak light of
day broke through the heavy fog u
man and woman entered the morgue.
Their faces were blurred with grief
and fear. They walked as though they,
too, were dead and spoke slowly, with
effort. All night they had wandered
through the streets and parks of the
city. searching, searching. All night
they had gone stumbling, cropping
through the fog. And now, with dawn,
their journey was at an end. In the
next room lay the object of their
scarch-their daughter. There, on q
slab, broken and Geld, lay all that was
and sacrifice. There was the vision
blood, their fire, their utmost wisdom
shattered. There lay the goal OF
their own youth, the hope of their age
wasted.
No. it wasn't the end of a disgrace.
full trail. She'd always been n good
girl. loving, obedient, happy. But late
ly they'd come to the city and there
was so much going on" Shed wanted
to take part in it. She was pretty and
popular at school. And there'd been a
boy-a nice boy-who had asked her
to go for a ride in his fathers auto
mobile.
The mother didn't know just what
to think of that-her little girl out
riding alone with a strange boy in an
automobile. But she hated to deny the
child any innocent pleasure. So at last
she said she might go-just this once
since he was a nice boy and they d
be sure to be home early.
They'd gone. Just this once. Care
free as youngsters are, laughing in
the fog which suddenly shut down
They couldn't see though the fog
What did that matter? When has
Youth ever worried because il
couldn't see through the fog? Sud.
denly there was q binding light and
something hurled itself upon them
from that white wall ahead. A street
car. And now the girl lay in a little
heap upon the slab and the boy was
unconscious on a hospital cot.
Some hours later someone was
tdlhlIlR u Tue loNneL III Inc uaihShSu
home.
at was the fault of the fog-they
couldn't see." the friend said, fumbling
for words of comfort.
And then the mother said some.
thing l am passing on today to that
beloved, reckless younger generation
Eyes. and we parents are in fog
too" said the mother. 1--WE dom
know what TO do about our children
If we keep them at home, deprive then
of all pleasure, they break loose some
how. If we give them permission, as
| gave Mary to go out riding for the
first time with boy, there are those
who will say that we were wrong tC
let them CO."
There, in that death room, thu
mothers Of today voice their problem
Whichever way they turn may prove
wrong. Youth must be served" Never
has il demanded more imperiously t.
be served. Never has it insisted more
holly on its right to rule its own life
and make its own decisions. Yet, il
those decisions are wrong-as they So
often are-the mothers and fathers
must shoulder the consequences.
Stop and think about that, Edna
and George, Don and Lucille. You're
keen on bossing your own affairs
you wouldn't amount TO much IL you
weren't. You're proud of yourselves
and sure you can manage all these