Evening star., 1946-10-22

too. I spent most of my time Jump
ing through hoops, playing dead,
running away from home, chasing
automobiles, fighting cats, hiding
under the house and refusing to
come out when I was called, and
chewing up my own bedroom
slippers.
It's the same with all the other
weeks. I take nothing but dust
baths during National Bird Week,
and I speak sharply to all arsonists
and pyromaniacs I catch at work
during National Fire Prevention
Week.
Still Writes Downhill.
SO, it isn't hard to guess what I
did most of last week, it being Ma
tional Write-a-Letter Week. The
first thing I did was to get all set.
I bought q box of pencils. a sharp
ener, wheel eraser with q little
broom attached to 1t, and some
lined tablet paper, because I have
a tendency to write downhill.
Then I set In to write to all the
people to whom I knew I owed
letters. I was determined to do it in
order, so I started of with q letter
to Aunt Bess, thanking her for the
Indian suit and feather headdress.
I explained that I had been awfully
busy lately, and would she please
excuse my tardiness.
I then wrote to Oscar Davis, one
time all-America guard from Geor-
gia Tech, who tried to teach me
mechanical drawing in high school.
This was as impossible as it would
be to teach Venus de Milo rope
tricks. But he passed me, and was
graduated. Otherwise, right today
I would be the only newspaper COL
umnist with a high school for q
dateline. I thanked Mr.. Davis for
realizing that I never would be able
to imagine what the cross section
of turbine looked like, much less
to be able to draw 1t.
I followed this with a letter to
an old girl of mine, saying it was
all right that she had thrown me
over for q boy who had a Stutz
Bearcat and a raccoon coat and
that I didn't blame her q bit. Man,
am 7 glad I didn't blame her! II her
initials are what I think they are,
she has kept Dorothy Dix and DR..
Crane busy for many a year.
Letter to q Salesman.
Using a brand-new pencil, got
of a letter to the Encyclopaedia
Britannica folks commencing them
on certain salesman whose name
I couldn't remember. But I can
remember him, all right, and ex-
actly how he looked. I met him
the first year I was in New York,
and he sold me set of encyclopae-
dias, bookcase-equipped, and the
fact that I had no place to put
them, and no money with which to
pay for them, bothered neither Of
us at the moment the big deal was
put over.
But the salesman bothered me
later. He wasn't satisfied with just
the down payment. He bounded me
all over New York for goodness
knows how long. There were times
when even my family didn't know
where I was living, but that sales
man always knew. He knocked on
my door SO much I didn't have time
to enjoy the books. I would be
reading about pottery or Persian
rugs or Pythagoras, and then his
head would pop over the transom
and he'd tell me to come out and
give him some money. My object
in writing the encyclopedias people
was to tell them that If this man Is
not the sales manager, he should be.
What q salesman! What a collec-
tor! He got the last bit Of blood
from "Turnip" McLemore.
am now looking forward to Ma
tional Plant-a-Tree week. I have a
whole capful Of acorns saved up.
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