How's the weather where you are? We've been griping so much about the cold weather; we'd better make the best of this hot weather. Aren't we funny creatures? Never satisfied. Before I go a word further, let me correct some of my glaring mistakes in the column. I don't know where my mind was when I wrote about the "Constellation" plane when I meant the "Constitution." The former is, of course, a passenger ship. The mighty "Constitution" cruised briefly over downtown Cleveland one morning on its journey to Detroit and points west of here. Virgil Jr. and I rushed over to Lakeview cemetery, and climbed the winding steps to the top of the Garfield monument, but the workmen below said we were five minutes too late. Hundreds of school children had been dismissed at ten o'clock, to witness the mammoth ship, which we thought would surely encircle our city. Great indeed was their disappointment. The kind commander, Bill Collins, has promised us a real visit (overhead) when they return eastward. Theirs is a mighty and alluring campaign to recruit men for the navy. I hope you read the news analysis on Page 2 of last week's Saltsburg press. A gifted and pungent writer reveals the danger of "free speech" that runs rampant in such vilification as was heaped unworthily upon James Forrestal. I hope the guilty are truly repentant.
If this column shows signs of its writer going nuts, it's because I am completely fenced in by baseball. It was bad enough last fall with four male fans, but now there are five. Dr. Phillips' nephew is home with us from Western Reserve Academy at Hudson, O. The dinner conversation is very sad and depressing these days, because the poor Cleveland Indians are having, not only a streak, but a wide swathe of bad luck. A completely dissecting post mortem is held over every base play; five analytical minds go into a huddle, and the one poor woman, who loves to talk, goes around trying to warm up the tea that has gone tepid in their cups.
I got even today. While out shopping today I came across a working television set in a store that was selling the enticing things. There was the baseball game, right before my eyes. I was so fascinated, and stood right there with a bunch of men, determined to tell the family all about it at the dinner table. But Dr. Phillips was right in the Stadium, saw and heard everything. He came home so excited over our horrible defeat that he kept up a running conversation with the boys; my erudite remarks either went unnoticed or slightly corrected. I have always considered the radio a special blessing; but now that all four in our house are tuned in on baseball night and weekends, what is a poor, defenseless woman going to do? If they weren't such princely men on other counts, I would go around like Carrie Nation with my hatchet. I don't mean to joke about Carrie Nation. Would that there were two thousand more like her.
Florence B. Taylor
Next - 6/30/49 - ANOTHER MIRACLE - Douglas Richard Young
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