The Sauk Centre herald., 1941-11-13

years of doing nothing but give to the end. But
now blotted memories, in dark attire, Sinking by.
Lest remember it. Somewhere out
the great, uninterrupted plains of Russia probably
| a German laughed, grmly and ironically. Rus
sian may have dug in little harder A Frenchman
looked bitterly at the ruins of great nation.
An Englishman wondered how long.
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And America? The veterans Of that war quietly
supped together in little gatherings up and down
the land. Sure, their task had been finished but
someone forgot. The lights still blink here Our
schools are still free to teach The men work but
a hungry great monster Is eating into the work Of
man. The sinister shadow Of rides close
heels. The navy is in shooting And
million and half young Americans look the
tented rows of army camps. In Sauk Centre?
We step faster Armstice Day gdes by. There is
no holiday in school. Businesses do not close. We
think more of the blizzard on November IL, 1910
than the November IL, 1918 when fire engines blast
ed their way through muddied streets and people
sat back stunned after the single effort. . Yes a
lot of people saw Armistice Day go by and they
remembered without looking back. But the world
forgot.
Knitter-
Into the Red Cross sewing rooms and into the
fearsome (to the average male) atmosphere Of sole
ly feminine occupation walked a brave young lad
the other day. :. 1t was courage you know
Courage to walk into the group and courage to make
the announcement he did. "Is this where you get
the yarn for that weaving-wth the sticks you
know" he inquired. 1t Could he have some.
He could although the announcement nearly floored
those in charge. He was bundled off with skens
of maroon yarn and the promise that the purling
would be done for him. He is Dickie Polipnick,
of Mr. and Mrs. Ed Polipnick and his knitting
career is already under way He has completed
couple of scarfs, of which he wears constantly.
His knitting has been done with pegs, but now he's
determined to take up the needles and do it in the
approved fashion. With him in his enterprise
is young Robert Vogel who is his knitting partner.
Don't get this wrong These lads real boys too.
They play football and otherwise display a genuine
boyish nature, but have shown some versatility in
adopting knitting Mrs Polipnick is reminded
that elo ooI hrat6n rxr;%,k kI1a@@
He'd stand his mother while she knitted
crotcheted and beg to be taught He taught and
often in his spare time he running up bit
of something or other Sort of runs in the family
maybe, she opned. So Dickie and Robert will
together turn out scarfs. That soldier
| may warm his neck.
Since Sinclair Lewis was red-headed lad in
grade school here play-actng has been his madness.
:. Now the latest from Virginia Stafford is that
Lewis wrote and produced his latest play Broad
way Good Neighbor." It lasted exactly one
performance and it Lewis admittedly dropped
s256oO bringing his total losses in the theatre to
we'll 100000. But undaunted the Sauk
Centre-born author is already at work plotting a
dramatic effort, Felicia Speaks" Lewis is reported
to have said: I'm just like the man who's been in
a plane crash. I've got to go up again-immediate-
| ly." Why Lewis can't seem to write play that
will je just doesn't add up to either his critics or
| main Street." "Arrowsmith" and others touching
on greatness certainly has had experience in the
theatre-by now to the tune of sixty thousand.
In fact his experience in play acting goes back to
this hamlet from which he sprung. For
lad in the old barn Of the Dr. e. ]. Lewis home he
acted in plays for which admission several pins
|. And they withstood no losses.
sSss
| Planes
think in a letter received from Mrs w. G.
Wedge of Portland, Oregon, is described rather
vividly what many of us feel about arpanes.
We're in of their marvellous performance, but
a bit fearful of the unseen danger too. T have
been trying to write letters but cannot the
Moorhead plane crash from my memory because
it comes very close to home" she wrote. "It has
| been habit with us, when out riding in the
ning to stop at the airport to watch the planes
| take off. presume have watched that
| plane take off for Chicago, perhaps many times.
There is something fascinating about air
plane. One stands riveted to one spot straning to
catch that last glimpse, little ball of light. It's
departure has left me with feeling of homesick-
| ness and have wished going back. Yet
| to me there is also something awesome about
plane feeling of treachery. Mr. Wedge has flown
on business trips and Nancy has come home by plane
at various times cutting a day more to three
hours, but I am always relieved when they reach
home" She goes to tell about a portendng
planes for several days, since the city is the
beam of the transports. She tells of the quietly
humming bombers and the rackety high-powered
pursuit ships like angry hornets in the sky. Port
land is now the site of large air base and
engineers unit
Alley
The alley behind our house is the regular avenue
of traffic, particularly pedestrian, by daylight.
At night, have SHE'D away from its gloomy gulf.
But the other night just for the sport-or
perhaps because it was habitual gesture in which
found myself too late to retract-I threaded my
way in the inky backness Strange how ones
sense of balance is almost certainly destroyed in
the dark. Shapes of things knew barns
and garages leaped up in gargantuan sprawing
blotches of deeper darkness. The roadway
unsteady under my feet. The blackness seemed
to close in about me all sides. But ahead
ahead was the oasis the desert-the steady light
of home at the other end of the block . AS I
walked along I reflected (aside from holding my
breath to discover what might be lurking in the
thckest alongside) that it not too long ago
that the main thoroughfares just as dark That
in the early days it was unsafe to go about
Thank heaven for Edson-and a glowing bit of wire.