The Omaha guide., 1948-06-05
CORNHUSKER

and vacations. For that reason
this weeks column by Mar
garet Chambers is a descrip-
ton Of one place popular with
tourists.)
Sleeping in the sun, or
shrouded in the velvety black
ness Of a Mexican night, Tax
co, ancient pueblo of the Az
tees, welcomes the visitor with
the gracious hospitality Of Old
Spain.
One comes upon Taxco all
at once a sharp curve in the
road and there it is, clinging
to the mountainside. There is
a charm in the antiquity OF its
adobe houses and stone dwell
ings with their red tiled roofs.
One has the feeling that they
climb eternally to meet the
igray old cathedral whose gaunt
stone towers and gilded domes
reach toward the sky.
The pueblo is built around a
charming plaza. Here the sell
yer workers have their shops.
Here the people come daily
to draw water from the open
well. Here children play on a
rock-walled ledge while their
elders gather for a bit of
gossip.
Narrow, cobbled streets es-
cape from the open square to
struggle up the mountain. Bur-
ros, goats, chickens and pigs
roam at will through the
streets and plaza. AT one cav
ernous doorway, a gorgeous
parrot preens his red, orange,
green, purple plumage, scream
ing betimes at the jostling hui
mainly. Sadfaced little people
come and go, bearing faggots
of wood or the daily supply
of water, Oriental-wise, upon
their backs.
Night comes quickly in Tax
co. The sun drops out of sight
and darkness wraps her shad-
owy mantle about the noun
tain. Only the stars and the
gray old cathedral are left to
guard the sleeping pueblo. In
dreams Taxco relives the
grandeur that was hers ages
ago, when princely Aztecs
lived and Eeigned upon the
mountain.
Editors Note: Entitled
Help Wanted this weeks
column is the work o Bill Fosh-
Ter, a senior in the University
Of Nebraska School of Journal
ism.)
Mr.. and Mrs. Smith had liv-
ed a normal life in a very nor
NAL Nebraska town. They had
paid for their farm out of the
back breaking efforts of Mr..
Smith and the saving, scrap
ing cooperation of Mrs. Smith.
Their children were all married
and away from the neighbor-
hood.
Smith was the sort of a man
you would ask to sit on a pile
of dollar bills that belonged to
you while you left to get a
drink of water. His wife was
the kind of woman you would
ask to keep your kids when
you had to go into Chicoga for
a couple of days. No one could
ask for better people.
The Smiths had three child
rem, two boys and one girl. All
were married now and busy
building regulations as darned
good people. There had been
lots of notwithstanding all
the children to college, giving
them clothes, and keeping them
fed throughout the lean years.
Smith was too old to farm
now and had done hard grub
bing to get by in lean years.
He was a proud man and proud
of his amily. He asked nothing
from anyone without giving
ample payment in kind. He
liked to look people in the eye
and give everyone he met a
happy word.
But Smith had a little tough
luck. About four months ago
he began to have trouble with
his health. His stomach panied
him almost unbearably. He
didn't tell his wife. He hated
to worry her. Finally, he had
to see a doctor. The doctor
checked him quickly and gave
him the hard truth-cancer.
Smith just hasn't the dough
for an operation. He, wouldn't
have a cent left to keep his
wife in groceries and a roof
over her head. He isn't COM
planning about himself. It's
just that he feels so powerless
to whip this thing alone.
Smith will never ask, but
you can help. A couple Of pen
%o z1