BY-WAYS - 7/27/39 - Fear. We're Home!

What a foolish thing is fear! Fear is a sort of negative attitude toward life. Lucky for us that love and courage and ambition are strong enough to push fear out of the picture. I started the "column" with fear in my heart; the first letter had barely gone to print, when the thought came, "Why, this isn't my column; it's our column. The world is full of fine, high-minded people, who love to pass along an inspiring thought, and I'll just be a radio station, to carry the message into the zone I love best." Sure enough, here comes two messages from Adella McQuiston Harmon, one of which I'll reserve for the "Mailbag." But she writes, "Have you ever 'looked up' the meaning of hyacinth? I imagine when old Omar Kayam wrote, 'If I had two loaves of bread, I would sell one and buy hyacinths to feed my hungry soul.' He included the sacrifice and grief and blood elements of its legends, as well as beauty in fragrance, early coming, and color." Just that message on a postcard tells me I have so much to learn, and I am grateful to those who lend a hand.

The Pennsylvania Lines are busy this weekend, bearing precious cargo - my childhood friend, Martha Kennedy Robinson, returning from a week's visit here - and my husband coming home after a week's vacation near the beautiful hills of Saltsburg. I almost sent an S.O.S. for him ahead of time. Supposedly sane, white, and slightly past twenty-one, I still need a guardian. But if Martha Robinson tells any tall tales - of how I ran out of gas one evening, parked without lights the next, and reported my car stolen a third night, because I had forgotten which street I had parked on - don't believe a word she says.

Two little Taylor boys (not so little, either) are utterly spoiled. When Cousin Ina was here, she gave them a complete vacation from dish washing, and nearly all other sordid household tasks. Martha was almost as bad and now I loom up as a sort of tyrant. The boys found a kindred soul in Martha, who is a baseball fan. She and I attended a big league game on Ladies' Day - Friday. It really is a great sport. I hope the Cleveland club will soon see their way clear to have a Boys' Day - such as Pittsburgh has. Oh, "wad some power the giftie gie us" - to see what goes on inside a boy's head. The other evening - in a sand lot game, a heavy rubber ball struck little Virgil in the eye - or rather, the rim of his glasses, which fortunately did not break. But the impact was pretty painful, and I wanted to put some ice on the sore spot. "No, no," he pleaded, "I'd like to have a black eye." But Dame Nature was not accommodating.

Nevertheless, she is an exacting tyrant, who demands heavy toll when we break her laws. Right now she makes me feel as if a steam roller had passed over this bit of flesh and bone. When the frailty of old age comes, I pray I may meet the Great Change as serenely as does a precious 81-year-old aunt of mine who writes, "If I am called to occupy the mansion which I trust is prepared for me, I want you to feel it is a happy solution of life's problem." I shall be looking this week for letters for the "Mailbag." Let's make it extra good.

Faithfully yours,
Florence B. Taylor
4501 Lilac Road
South Euclid, Ohio

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