Evening star., 1943-05-04


Henry McLemors. didn't do this
deliberately, of course. He has too
much on his mind for that. but an
invitation to attend a party he Is
giving tomorrow for the correspond
ents under his command sent me to
the washtubs and in hurry. When
I received his invitation I made
quick check of my wardrobe. Even
Mother Hubbard would have been
surprise at what l found, and it's
even money that Mahatma Gandhi
could come up with better supply
of clothes.
My laundry isn't due back for two
weeks, as I sent it out only three
weeks ago. So, there was only one
thing left for me to do and that was
to start washing and ironing. 1t
made no difference. l had no
choice. I started with a handker-
chief, figuring that what I learned
from the handkerchief would stand
me in good stead when I advanced
to such haberdashery as shirts and
shorts. My experience with the
handkerchief only discouraged me.
Recalled Sisters Plan.
In my youth, remembered. my
sisters used to stick handkerchiefs
on the windows in order to dry them
quickly, so I tried that. Either
there is trick to sticking hand
kerchiefs on windows or English
glass Is different because mine
wouldn't stay put. The handker-
chief would stick about minute and
then fall on the floor. making it
necessary to wash 1t all over again.
After about 10 washings, I decided
to risk the generals party without
a handkerchief and to trust my
robust health to keep me from
snifhing.
Then I tried a shirt. A khaki
shirt. Washing shirt isn't mucn
trouble unless you forget and let
the basin run over-which is what
I did. There were times when I
couldn't tell whether I was wash
ing shirt or it was washing me.
But washing the shirt is only the
beginning There is the blueing, the
starching and the ironing. All I
could recall about blueing was that
Nom Cherub, 300 pounds Of de-
lightful ro-American, when she
was washing clothes in an iron ket-
tie in the backyard, used to put in a
little blueing between dips Of SNUFF.
Having no snuff, just had to guess
when to shake it in and as a result
I got the shirt the color of Max
field Parrish sky.
My starching was even worse. The
tail of the shirt was as stiff as a
brick wall and the collar was as
limp as leaf Of tired lettuce. One
cuff was as rigid as Buckingham
Palace guard and the other dropped
like spaniels ears. As for myself.
was starch from head to foot and
walked about like Boris Karlof
playing the part Of a robot.
But He Ironed the Shirt.
Then I started ironing the shirt.
I used borrowed electric iron and
an ironing board that goes with my
apartment, it being one Of those
affairs that drop from the wall. I
wish you could see that shirt right
now. One cuff is burned off, the
bosom of it has more wrinkles than
the face of Grant Wood painting
OF a pioneer woman, and the collar
is combination Of sports collar
and gates ajar. One side of the COL
lar hangs down and the other sticks
up.
To make matters worse, the man.
agement of the apartment in which
I live twice called to ask me to
please use the emergency fire buck
cts and sand If I were going to burn
down the house
won't even tell you what hap
pened when I went to work on a
pair Of socks. They shrunk so much
that they look like a midget's nit
tens.
All can say is that when I walk
into Gen. Andrews party, the gen.
eral is likely to Jump back IA feet
and exclaim, who is this? A SOY
from Capt. Billy's Whiz Bang or the
Police Gazetteer"
distributed BY McNaurht Svnd,rats Yn.N