The coastland times. [volume] (Mnateo [i.e. Manteo], N.C.) 1947-1959, 1955-12-02
THE HIGHER
THE FEWER
There's Always Plenty of Room
At The Top
By
NANCY J. MIDGETT

at least Tor me, for my parcels
home have to get off early or they
may not get there for the day.
Each year, though even more so
this, the mailing brings on a wall
ing, for it isn't until / start send
ing off the parcels that l realize
just how much is going on those
little squares of paper we stick OH
the things.
Way back, what seems some
times a few hundred years or so,
Christmas used to be a simple
thing. or so l thought. 1t was
case of book or books and tin
soldiers for the boys and books and
a doll or pram or doll house for
the girls the larger folks had more
books, clothes and maybe a cycle.
Not so now. Still there are clothes
of course but ninety nine more
shades and materials to choose
from. The toys just never finish
in variety of types, uses and ma
terials: the latest l see, is selec-
ton of marvellous plastic toys that
are finished down to the engine
parts of planes, boats and what
have you, and need merely glue
to put them together. That at least
is all the working material needed.
What they don't mention is at
least fairly large and pliable
amount of gray matter to know
what the heck one is doing. | have
sent one of them to great
nephew the intention was good
but since mailing it l have visions
of either mummy or daddy taking
over with much semi-dignified
argument, while the three children
stand around moaning, or, should
it happen that l have under-esti-
mated the nephewss ability, he will
have managed to get it half way
together, when one or both of the
girls, quite playfully of course, the
little dears, will give it a passing
smite, when all attention for the
next hour will be given over to a
'free for alp. l will open my
niece's first letter after Christmas
with an aspirin and strong cup of
tea within reach,
On radio and in the movies,
stores and books, space and the
conquering of same or it of us,
seems to have taken over in large
way. Once upon a time Twinkle,
twinkle little star" was a nice,
simple little jingle that meant
nothing in particular to me at
least and l was we'll on the way
to becoming young adult before ]
even wondered or could realize just
what space meant. Now or in the
near future, one of the space mind
ed children would be able to tell
you what the "little star" was, its
weight, light miles from the earth,
and so on.
For the Davy Crockett suits
there is the song Davy Crockett;
nothing innocent and peaceful
about them thar chil'n,-like him
they are all potential bear killer,
in their estimation. l often wonder
what some of them would do if
they found one when roaming tn,
woods these days on Roanoke Is
land; l have sneaking idea tha,
like me, they would hightail it for
home and call somebody else up
to do the dirty work.
The dollies now say Mama!-
no simple eye shutting and keeping
their mouths shut and likewise the
babies. Instead of staying more or
less inactive until six months,
they are born with teeth, try to
stand up by, the time they are
three or four months old and start
practicing on their own doll babies
so early that l wonder that they
need diapers themselves at all. It is
all getting very complicated for an
old-timer. With space to conquer
perhaps it is just as well that the
young get flying start at the all
important act of merely living on
this earth, though at this time of
the year with hunting on, l am
always worried unless a few of
them make a too early flying start
off this earth. Living with guns in
ones blood so to speak, seems to
make some people careless about
the necessary care that should be
taken. A bullet or shot is very
much like words but twice as final
Once let loose you can never
call them back.
Speaking of the hunting season.
and with apologies to Twinkle
! twinkle little star"
Little Quack-quack flying high,
Calling up there in the sky,
Won't you come a little lower
So my dad can look you over.
He is really very kind,
And sitting out there in the blind
Has food for him and some for you;
Tho Warden mustn't know it too.
My daddy is so very good
He'll save your hunt for daily food,
Your yearly journey for a bed,
If you'll just let him shoot you
dead.
Little Quack-quack up so high.