Evening star., 1946-06-20

raey, and all the others you care to
name.
I won't bore you with a recital of
New York's delights. They have
been enumerated and described by
much more facile fingers than mine.
What I want to tell you about
with an abrupt change of pace-is
the greatest drawback New York has
to offer to the man or woman who
once lived here, and who now re-
turns for an occasional visit.
This drawback is the fact that you
run into SO many old friends. Now
don't get me wrong. I'm not knock
ing friendship. Next to the Morris
plan, nothing; can compare r.iti,
old friends. But, when man
reaches the age when he starts
dreading birthdays - and, much
worse-starts lying about them-old
friends make him uncomfortable.
Youngsters don't have this trouble.
All their friends look alike. bounce
around alike, dress alike. talk alike.
and give every sign Of living until
Tie COWS come nome.
Plays No Favorites.
But when middle age stares a
man in the face, and does to the
face and figure what only middle
age can do, then old friends are un-
pleasant reminders that Father
Time Is a most democratic cuss and
treats all the same
He plays no favorites with that
scythe. He cuts crows feet in the
Colonel's Lady just the same as he
does in Judy O'Grady. and he puts
bay window in a House of Morgan
partner with the same sweep with
which he puts one on tire vulcan
izers.
But 1t isn't pleasant to be re-
minded of this. We all live in q
little dream world in which we pic
ture ourselves as just a little bit
different. We look in the mirror
each morning and see no change
stu just strong. lean, 1.-the boy or
girl, who wouldn't be too much out
OF place In freshman cap and with
an algebra book under the arm.
Then we run into old friends we
haven't seen for a long time. Old
friends that are of our same age
It's shocking. My wife and I were
dining the other night when I SPOT
ted fellow from Houston / hadn't
seen for 10 years. I wasn't quite
sure it was George, because his hair
was gray at the temples, he wore
horn-rimmed glasses, and the
douole-breasted suit, though very
we'll cut, didn't completely hide the
fact that he was not in shape to
run a 220.
George has aged quite a bit" I
said to my wife. He must be get
ting mighty close to- 49,"
How old do you think you are?"
Jean asked. you know. you also
have passed the age where. some
one has to cut up your food for
YOU
Both Enjoy Lying.
told George he looked great. He
told me he thought I looked great,
too. He knew I was lying and !
knew he was lying. He gave me a
once-over study and I knew by the
expression on his face that he was
wondering how in the world I had
gone downhill so fast.
That has happened a dozen times
since l have been in New York.
Twice I caught myself wondering
why Jules and Matty had nerve
enough to get out on the floor with
us kids" and make spectacles OF
themselves by trying to do the
rumba. Then I remember that I
had gone to school with both of
them, and that when I was doing
the Charleston, so were they.
Another thing about meeting old
friends, they just won't let well
enough alone, but insist on starting
the conversation with some such. re-
mark as We'll, well, we'll! If it
isn't OIL Henry. 1t must be Is years
since have seen you"
Then there is the old friend who
likes to recall the first time he met
you. That always takes you back
into the days of Wellsbach mantles
Prest-O-Lite tanks on automobiles
and high-buttoned shoes, all OF
which is not calculated to make you
forget your blood pressure Is toe
high.
For young man like me-. it's just
downright depressing.
Distributed by McNaueht Syndicate, Inc)