Evening star., 1943-06-17


Henry MeLemor.. alive by insects
who bite you without showing their
ration cards.
Yet I am glad 7 came on this
English picnic because out OF the
horrors Of it came once again the
realization that the peoples OF all
nations will be drawn together by
the little, everyday things and not
by planned programs drawn up by
statesmen around Grand Rapids
tables.
I am quite sure that on this picnic
Americans who brought their tired,
fatigued sandwiches and Englshmen
who brought their worn-out sand
wiches, were drawn, closer together
under the sun ard amidst beetles
than they ever could have been
drawn together by talks in the White
House, statements from No. 10
Downing street, and pamphlets
gotten out by the Owl.
It's Like America.
A picnic in England is the same
as a picnic in America. You start
off by not knowing what to take.
The Englishman worries about
whether his food is good enough
and the American worries about
whether his food is good enough.
Both worry about the weather. I
kept popping my head out of the
window the night before the picnic
to see if the morrow would be clear.
The Englshman did the same
thing Every step in picnic works
toward complete understanding.
On the railroad platform, We all
wondered whether we would be able
to get a compartment by ourselves
and not have to share our friendli-
ness with strangers. When the
train came in, We all rushed toward
1t and when We sll piled into an
empty compartment that belonged
Just to US, our happiness overcame
all the differences in our language
and our feelings. We were picnick-
ers together. All during the ride
we kept sticking our heads out Of
the window and saying the same
thing: It's about to clear up"
When We got off the train, We
faced the same thing-a long walk
to the picnic grounds. No one ever
built picnic grounds in railroad
station. Every one has to pick up
his bundle and wear himself out
getting to where he wants to 60. If 7
were an inventor, I would invent a
picnic ground smack in the middle
Of a railroad station and make
billions.
When We reached the picnic
grounds every one sat down, just as
We do in America, in long grass that
itches. simultaneously We said,
This is the loveliest spot We ever
cOuld nave toUn0.'
Longed for Fork.
Then the food was opened up and
the wind came up. The wind al
ways comes up on picnic. The
paper napkins blew away. The
tablecloth curled up at the corners.
Half of the food was spilled, and
every one said, MY, but it's good
to be here out of town" This was
a lie in England just as it is in
! America, because We all longed for
table, chairs. knives, forks and the
comforts of home.
I would like to suggest that when
1t comes time for the Allied leaders
to settle the postwar problems of the
world that they meet at picnic and
not in hall of mirrors.
Let Roosevelt, Churchill, Stain,
Chang Kai-shek and whatever
Frenchman wins in their fight for
honor all sit down at a picnic. Stain
will be more human when pickle
Juice is running up his elbows.
Roosevelt will come closer to the
common touch when he finds his
peanut butter sandwiches all dried
up. Churchill will be more a mere
man when he has to get out that
first olive, and Chang Kai-shek will
lose some of his deep Oriental
dignity if he has to scratch chigger
bites. Even De Gaulle or Giraud is
likely to forget himself for a mo-
ment If he has to gather the fire.
wood to toast the ersatz sausages.
Any political columnist is at per-
feet liberty to enlarge on this subject
If he thinks it has merit.
distributed by McNausht Syndicate, Incl