BY-WAYS - 11/11/48 - Hallowe'en!

What wouldn't I give to be in Saltsburg tonight! Think of all the clowns, witches, pirates, hobos, brides and grooms, cullud fo'ks, queens, gypsies, and dear little elves - parading on Saltsburg's Main Street! That community parade and the square and rotund dancing in the Town Hall afterward is just one more of the many advantages of living in a small town. You band together in a common cause, whether it be the hilarity of Hallowe'en or the solemnity of Memorial Day. It all makes for oneness of spirit and purpose. We miss it in the big city; we have to build our own little community - usually within our church or in the fellowship and common interest of a club of some kind. Speaking of club, we readers note, with pride, how the Saltsburg Music Club is really making history. We are really proud of the steadfastness and growth of that club. I just hope you will never be "cliqueish," as some Cleveland clubs tend to be.

In re music, if Jose Iturbi comes to Pittsburgh or any spot within your own commuting distance, be sure to hear him in concert. I have heard many of the artists, but I think never such exquisite playing as was his gift to us early in October. A musician friend of ours says he (Iturbi) puts in several hours a day on the Czerny piano studies. In the Reader's Digest you have read, no doubt, "J.P. McEvoy in Nurseyland." In an issue some months back he tells about his young daughters - how he and his wife tried to inspire them to practice their scales by setting up Yehudi Menuhin, the great violinist, a guest in their home, as a shining example of what practice will do. "Mr. Menuhin practices four hours a day," says Papa impressively. "He must be awful dumb for words (or words to that effect), to have to practice that many hours," replies little daughter. And no amount of argument could convince her that the game was worth the candle. Few of us learn that lesson until it is too late. Or is it ever too late to learn?

I must close for today. Next week I will tell you about the undertaker who went off with the body, and left the mourners behind. With a nostalgic farewell to beautiful October. I'll be with you next week.

Florence B. Taylor
2907 Hampshire Rd.,
Cleveland Hts. 18, Ohio

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