Verhovayak Lapja, 1943. január-június (26. évfolyam, 1-25. szám)
1943-06-24 / 25. szám
I June 24, 1943 THE WHISTLING BOY Verhovayak Lapja Page t. t' By KATHRYN RAW The boy's first realization of life came one morning when he was awakened from sleep by the sound of his mother singing. He opened his big eyes wonderingly, and looked at her strangely, as though he had never seen her before. This was the first time In all his three and a half years that he grew conscious of his surroundings, and of himself as an individual. He tried to remember what he experienced the day before — but yesterday slipped into the past — oblivion — and was past recalling Mother smiled at him, and said: “Good morning, precious. How is my little boy today?” He smiled up at her and raised his arms. She bent down toward him, and he slipped his arms around her neck. How cool and smooth her cheek felt when he placed his face against hers. She lifted him out of the crib. Then he was dressed and fed. Afterward, the boy went outdoors and played with the children in the neighborhood. They played all kinds of games —■ some of them amusing, others serious. The cowboy and Indian games were always serious. The boy wondered why he had to be the enemy, falling in battle at the first playful blow. He was always the enemy — which at first he couldn’t understand and protested against in his small boyish way, until he learned he was*the smallest and youngest of them all — and had to obey orders or be left out of the games. He didn’t want to be the enemy all the time, but is was better than not playing with the boys at all. Time passed slowly in those days. Then came the morning when the boy went to school. At first he missed Mother; but, he liked his teacher, and got along fairly well in class. He didn’t learn as rapidly as some of the other 1 boys and girls, but once he grasped the lessons, he never forgot them After school hours he made his way home, whistling the tunes he learned in the music room. He liked to make a series of shrill musical sounds by I forcing the breath through the lips. When he mastered the art, he was always whistling. It made him happy, and sometimes Mother would join him in duets. Those were times of happiness and joy. One day the boy and his best friend had an argument over marbles. They weren’t on speaking terms for a while. The boy grieved over this incident, and his merry whistling ceased. Mother worried about him, wondering if he were ill. But when the boys forgot their foolish quarrel, his jolly whistling was resumed. After that, the years passed quickly. The boy grew into manhood. He had a best girl, and they would spend Saturday evening at the moving picture theatre, or go to a dance. Life moved smoothly, happily. But one day something happened that changed everything. The whole world was plunged into war. Men — sons, husbands, brothers — were all called to arms. The boy went, too. Mother and his best girl were brave when they went to the station to see him leave. He boarded the train, and they waved to him from the platform, glad he was too far distant to see the tears in their eyes, which they could no longer control. He leaned out the window and looked at them as though he were seeing them for the last time — waved good-bye, and, O, joy of joys; — he whistled. That was the last glimpse the spectators had of the boy for some time to come. After a period of training the boy and the other fellows in his group moved overseas. They spent sleepless nights in malariainfested jungles; and days of extreme heat, while fighting the enemy. When it rained, they walked through knee-deep mud, carrying their riffles shoulderhigh. This game of war was so different from the childish games the boy remembered. The noise of the guns was deafening — the roar of machine guns was kept up steadily. This was no child’s game, but hell, the boy thought. Then he fell, a red stream of blood issuing from a wound in his right shoulder. The next thing he knew he was in the tent hospital, a surgeon bending over him. “Just a scratch wound. You’ll be all right,” the doctor said. Somehow, he lived through all the horror of war. But something inside him was changed — it was as though something fine and wonderful had been destroyed. Mother and his best girl could not help but notice the change in him when he returned home, after the war was all over. There were times when he grew morose, and stayed in his room. Mother worried about him. He no longer whistled, even though he could hear Mother’s tunes, as she went about her work in the kitchen below his room. He knew she wanted him to join her in a duet, but somehow, he had no desire to whistle. The change happened on a Saturday afternoon. Some boys were playing in the empty lot next door. The boy was reading in his room. A sudden crash distracted his attention. He looked up to see a baseball in the center of the room and broken bits of glass all around. He dropped his book and picked up the ball — looked at it- strangely for a moment. He heard a boy shout, “Beat it! We’ve smashed a window!” The boy in the room smiled, stepped to the window and called; “It’s all right! Here’s your ball!” He tossed it out to them. A scramble ensued and the players retrieved the ball. For a while the boy stood at the window, watching the game. Then he began to whistle, softly at first, his eyes lighted up suddenly, and he dashed down-stairs, whistling happily. Mother stopped her work and listened, then wiped her eyes, a happy light creeping into them, for at last, her boy was made whole and free! The boy went outdoors and down the street. It was not difficult for Mother to guess he was going to call on his best girl. June 7, 1943 Dear Verhovay Readers: You will probably be surprised to hear that I’m on board an air craft carrier, and to tell you the truth, I was certainly surprised myself. But I like it very much — it certainly is big enough for comfort — and we have movies every night. I wish I could tell you where I am, but that is not possible; so, you’ll have to wait until I get back, and I’ll tell you all about it. I would like to read some of the copies of the Verhovay Journal, if the editors would be so kind as to send me some of the back issues. I would appreciate it very much, for I haven’t received any mail for quite some time. How is the weather-man treating you folks? I should think it is plenty hot back there in dear old Pittsburgh. I would like to be home around August — that’s when our church holds their annual bazaar. Last year I attended and we all had a good time. I wonder if they are planning one for this year? I suppose the readers have wondered why I have not contributed an article to our Journal in such a long time; I couldn’t write anything of interest in it, because of the censors. All it would contain would be concerning the state of my health, and other such uninteresting chatter. But after this war is over, and I’m back in the States again, then I’ll really write an article — it will have to be published in serial form. I’ll close now,, hoping to receive the Journals soon, and v/ith the best of everything. Sincerely, PAUL KUN, S 2/C HELEN PORCH, Br. 356 MEMBER, BECOMES BRIDE OF MARINE OFFICER LIBERTY LIMERICKS A furniture mover from Worcester, Said—“I have become • big booster Of Bonds to help liclc Those Axis guys—■ quick! [(An* I’m savin* much’ more than I lister!”) It’« going to take a lot of money to win the Wer. Do your part by putting of your income into ¥•» Bonds every month» V. S. Treasury Dept. Wedding Climaxes Whirlwind Courtship Miss Helen Porch, one of our most prominent members, was married to Marine Gunner Stanley Eiden AuBuchon, 1803 Vilas Avenue, Madison, Wisconsin. The ceremony was performed in the Christ Presbyterian church of that city. American and maring flags and bouquets of mixed flowers formed the background for the service which was read by the Rev. Edwin O. Kennedy. Immediately following the ceremony, a reception was given by Mr. and Mrs. Noble Sherwood and Mr. and Mrs. E. C. Smith at the Sherwood home, 2339 Monroe Street, Madison. The bride was given in marriage by het brother, Robert A. Porch, who is a member of the U. S. Coast Guard. She wore a white satin gown with a fingertip length veil attached to a seed pearl gown and carried white roses. Miss Lois AuBuchon, sister of the bridegroom, was maid of honor in a pale rose taffeta frock. She wore matching ostrich tips in her hair and carried tea roses. Mr. Sherwood was best man. Both of the mothers wore blue gowns with orchid corsages. The couple will reside at 1803 Vilas Avenue in Madison where the bridegroom is commanding officer of the Marine Aviation Detachment. Mrs. AuBuchon is the daughter of Mrs. Susanne Porch who resides at 2442 Norman Avenue, Detroit. Both she and her newly-married daughter, as well as her son, Robert, are members of the Verhovay of many years standing, and have been active in functions until recently. She was well-known among the younger set and gave freely of her time to charitabla activities. Robert Porch is now serving our country as a member of the U. S. Coast Guard. Best wishes and good luck ara extended Mr. and Mrs. Au Buchon by their many friends and relatives, as well as by the members of the great Verhovay family. RICHARD J. PHILLIPS Secretary-Treasurer, Br. 356, Detroit, Mich. Life In America We can hear the brook’s sweet rippling; Birds singing in the trees; We can hear the tree’s leaves swaying To and fro in the gentle breeze; — And we can hear the rooster crowing So early every morning; — Life moves smoothly when you’re free, In America, greatest land of all. We hear the automobiles rolling Up and down on every street; And the street-car clanking, coming Ringing its bell when traffic’s heavy; We hear the factory whistles blowing, When time for men to start their work; That’s the life of a free people, Living in America, greatest land of all! MISS ROSE SIMO, Box 321, Royalton, Illinois Pay Day I look forward to pay-day, To receive my week’s earnings; And in an imaginative way Expect to fulfill all my yearnings. I:! In line I await my turn, — As do many a Mike and Jake; Yes, waiting, only to learn There must have been a mistake. They take out for stamps and bonds, For Social Security and Victory taxes; I find practically all my pay is gone, But we all readily agree It’s a dam good way to beat the Axis. EMMA JENE EVANS, Age 13, Box 244, Pricedale, Penna. BUY WAR BONDS
