Verhovayak Lapja, 1944 (27. évfolyam, 1-52. szám)

1944-01-13 / 2. szám

Page 6. The Ferret Sez... Had three good reasons for not writing the last two issues—Lar­ry, Skipper and Mr. Ferret caught the flu bugs and I had f. ? ÉBL my hands full Mrs. Jolán Lucas trying to exter­minate the hate­ful things. Guess a lot of you were mighty glad, too, that my versions of a certain two weeks remained at home, but may I take this opportunity and say that i' this writer made any remarks which caused some of you pain, please accept my sin­cere anoloiges. You see, my nom de plume, The Ferret, is more than just a nickname—it symbolizes my aims in writing, and that is, that I like to ferret out the whys and wherefores of things and events. So, hereafter, I will keep my ferreting among my intimate group, and they certainly are a swell bunch. / * * * The election meeting of branch 429 rolled off so smoothly, we were all amazed. The current officers for 1944 are the same as in 1913—President John Fish­er; Vice-President Ethel Koy (who had to officiate at the De­cember meeting due to Johnny’s duties at a war plant); Branch Manager Jolán Lucas; Recording Secretary Marie Gallovich; Comp­troller Steve Horvath; Auditors Daniel Robb and young Mary Horvath: Publicity Agent Jolán Lucas; Sick Visitors Mrs. Mary Horvath, Daniel Robb, Michael Kuritar; and the Entertainment Committee being recommended highly for another year, John Fisher, Marie Gallovich, young Mary Horvath and Mary Kuritar. Meetings will be held quarter­ly for the duration of the war, due to time pressing the war­­workers of the branch. There­fore the next meeting will be held the third Sunday in March at 3:00 p. m. at the Verhovay Home. This does not necessarily deprive "the branch of social ac­tivities, as our most successful parties rolled off due to the plan­ning of the small entertainment committee, without being dis­cussed at our monthly meetings. Dues can be paid at the heme of the branch manager at 2522 Car­­son Street, Detroit 9, Michigan, or call Vinewood 1-8779, or you can take dues up to the Verhovay Home, 8005 W. Jefferson Ave., where Mr. Henry Keller, will be very glad to take care of you. The semi-annual allottment, which was divided into two parts at the convention, will remain as the branch manager’s salary, as the branch is able to get along with the branch fees as in the past, plus our jack-pots at meet­ings and the few bucks we make at all our small functions. 1943 will go down on records as our most successful year, both finan­cially and socially, and this in spite of war work, and other difficulties resulting from the war. From the example set in 1943, we will be able to swing into peace-time activities with plenty of experience to back us up on how affairs should be run without committee members cut­ting each other’s throats. We really owe a lot of credit to our president who backed us up in all new ideas, and also to the cooperation of our small active group. Thanks, members, for your help in the past—we will need it doubly in the future as we are out to set a fine exam­ple in True Branch Fraternalism at Dearborn, Michigan. The ladies are the only ones bowling this year, as the men couldn’t get together due to swing shifts and 7-day weeks; but when September rolls around the fellows have planned to have enough men on the team to take up for the swing-shifters. If the talk of swinging back into peace-time labor is more than just rumor here in Detroit, maybe enough men’s and ladies’ teams will be able to have that National Verhovay Tournament in 1945. Let’s hope so, because they are so much fun, and you make innumerable new friends, and you really spread the word around what a swell bunch those Verhovay members are. * * * My tlmee men and I went ice­fishing the first Sunday of the New Year—talk about CLEAN FUN! New Year’s Day was just another Saturday in our lives, after being up all night trying to make ourselves believe we were having a good time drink­ing that stuff they sell you on your liquor “bonus” punch here in Detroit. So Saturday evening Luke and the boys were busy making Russian hooks, fixing tip-ups, scouring the closets of the h'use for high top boots, and old sweaters; and making a “hot box” to sit on (it’s a small wooden box about the size of a stool, just high enough to put an old-fashioned lantern under —you cut holes in the top and sides of the box and the heat from the lantern makes a nice warm place to sit on, when angl­ing for perch through those six­­inch holes you chop in the ice.) Me, I had plenty to do, loo, pre­paring the fried chicken, hard­­boiled eggs, and the rest of the stuff that goes into a hearty meal out on the ice. Went to bed early Saturday, as it’s the early bird who catches the most fish. Sunday morning, the house was roaring with activity, packing lunches, getting the equipment in the car—and putting on layers and layers of warm clothing. Be­lieve it or not, folks, when we came home that night, Skipper (he’s nearly 12 and full of mis­chief) piled up our cast-off clothes on the dining room table, including boots, sweaters, long underwear and all, and it rose to a height of two feet. But were we warm—we rented a small shack about 3 feet by 3 feet, barely tall enough for my six-footer without ducking his curly top—there are a couple of seats nailed down and a small charcoal stove, and the biggest hole in one corner. You sit on the seats, and hold your Rus­sian Hooks attached to a piece of fish-line and a small stick in the hole and lure the little fel­lows in. Sometimes a big baby would glide under the hole, and if he was unwary, Luke fooled him and snapped down a small fish-spear. Caught two fair-sized pike by spearing and about 70 small, 8 and 10 inch perch. Each person is allowed two tip­­ups, so we had seven holes go­ing, all tip-ups bobbing up about the same time. Kept us plenty warm scurrying around, and all around the lake one could hear, “Tip-up is up, Bub” and away you’d go, to find a lit­tle fellow wiggling at the end of your line. Man alive, but was it fun! Towards dusk, you could barely see the tip-up bob up, so Luke decided to put bells on and maybe a small light so they would be easier to see. During the early afternoon, the kids and mothers skated all over the lake, kids and their sleds kept it mighty noisy, so the fish decided to play safe and keep away from fish-hooks. Shortly after five, however, folks started going home, and the lake quieted down to a mere murmur of voices now and then, and that was the time we really started catching them. Luke and the kids were plenty warm—they had learned a les­son from previous trips, by put­ting newspaper- layers in their boots and between their warm socks—me, I didn’t think I need­ed anything like that so I got cold first. Finally, it was so dark we couldn’t see anything—all one crmid hear was ice-cracking or settling somewhere'nearby. We piled the stuff in the car and started for home. Had some chicken left and plenty of warm tea and we ate and drank and listened to Jack Benny. After a hearty meal of Spanish omelets and some hunk of Dutch Apple pie, and warm coffee, we piled into our welcome beds, happy in the knowledge of a day well­­spent—and Monday night’s sup­per waiting to be fried. Some fun—you oughtta try it some time, instead of spending your time in taverns and movies or just playing games at home. * * * Thought maybe an excerpt or two from one of Cpl. Johnnie Phillips’ letter would leave you with a smile. This was written at a time when he was confined temporarily for a mild stomach upset—“Most of this hospital con­sists of tents, but I’m in a ward situted in a Franch edifice con­sisting of brick walls and a tiled roof supported by wooden raft­ers. In and out of the many nooks provided by these rafters our little feathered friends go twittering around and about and hither and yon and fro and back and forth.” “The nurses (the first sturdy specimens of American woman­hood I’ve seen since my advent on this continent) are swell to us. Some look like fugitives from Hollywood, some are fugi­tives from a Dr. Kildare picture, and some are just fugitives. One keeps flying thru our ward “on a broom and keeps yelling, ‘Looks ain’t everything looks ain’t every­thing’.” With that bit of humor to “keep your chin up,” I’ll close, and wish more folks were like Johnny Phillips and could take things in their stride! Affectionately yours, THE FERRET. Verhovay Journal DELAY NO LONGER in GETTING YOURSELF INSURED because LIFE IS SO VERY UNCERTAIN S P o BOWLING SCORES ’ If you are looking for some­thing to do while the weather is still cold and gas is limited, prohibiting the usual drive into the country for relaxation, you need look no further than bowling. This is as fine a game as any that can be indulged in at this critical time in our history, what with a world war being waged, rationing of gas, food and other former commodities to which we had grown accustomed in days of plenty. Of course this is a game that will help liven the dullest season of the year — winter — and right now this season is rather dull, due to the fact that so many other pleasures have been put aside for tl)e duration. Then, too, Bowling has a wide range of entertainment — for it is not only a sport of amusement, but is also social entertainment — a gath­ering where the Bowler meets and mingles with other people of the same pleasurable habits which he possesses; that of indulging in the game of Bowling. This sport gives one many opportunities to meet new people and exchange ideas and opinions regarding the game , as well as many ether subjects that the player enjoys and wishes to converse in an intelligent manner with others of like mind. This is also a good opportunity to discuss increasing the member­ship of the Verhovay Fraternal Insurance Association. For a Ver­hovay member may meet others at the bowling alleys who can be informed of the many fine features of a Verhovay certificate, and asked to affiliate with the Association. Then as the game progresses, so do the friendships, which have come about as a re­sult of teaming together for a game. Somewhere along the stage of the game will enter competition between teams, which acts as an incentive — for competition between teams is necessary in order to spur the players into a determination of action to win the game and win it by good clean sport. The captain of the team w'ill see to it that his line-up con­sists of players who are in­terested in learning all there is to know about the game and whose aim it is to give the best performance they can, in order to bring their team out on top. Each Bowler on the team unites his effort with the other players in a common purpose, for each is determined to roll ball down the smooth shining alley and knock over at least half the pins — wooden pieces that are lined up at the far end of the alley and stand as a challenge, straight as tall humpty-dumpties that topple over as easily as the hero of a well-known nursery rhyme. It is only natural that at first the Bowler feels like a rookie and plays his game as though the ball was something fragile that should be handled like an egg. And when he steps uncertainly up to roll the ball he is loathe to let go, holding on to it while he runs several yards down the alley before finally letting go the ball, and then watches January 13, 1944 RTS anxiously while the ball, by some trick of fate, rolls into the gutter and reaches the end without touching a single pin. He begins to think fate has interferred and is hindering his progress, for he is doing every­thing that the other players do. But after some study and more practice he has learned more about the game and no longer feels like a raw recruit but boldly takes up the ball, fondling it like a pet, then walks con­fidently up to the foul line, swings his arm back a short dis­tance and then sends the ball spinning rapidly over the mirror­like floor, a satisfied smile spreading over his face as the ball strikes its mark and the “wooden men” at the other end fall over one after another. By now he has learned that Bowling is a game of aggres­siveness — for the player must learn self-assertion, and must push the game to a winning conclusion. With team-work this is possible, and what Bowler does not work with the other players to help bring his team out on top as the winner? He wouldn’t bowl if he didn’t want his team to win. And every Verhovay mem­ber of a Verhovay Bowling Team is out to score high and through good clean sport make his group of players come out as the win­ning team. Come on, Verhovay Bowling Teams, let us know what progress you are making. Branches are always interested to know what other Branches are accomplishing in the Sport World; in this way they can gauge the progress their own team is making and arrange for games with those teams that are within a short distance. 429 BOWLING By THE FERRET We are still lopping along with our bowling here at 429 — starting off with some zippy scores the first week of the new year. Mary Kuritar still holds high in the league, with Helen Kastura leading with high average, on our team. Getting the line-ups ready for the city tournament, which is the biggest women’s bowling tournament in the country. December 29, 1943 H. Kastura 105115 147 367 M. Fisher 96139 112 347 J.Lucas,Capt.112 100 109 321 M. Kuritar 103160 124 387 R. Horvath 158 90157 405 Total ........ 1827 L. Bell 165140 119 424 A. Major 132 94106 332 January5, 1944 H. Kastura134 142 133 409 M. Fisher 148114 142 404 J.Lucas,Capt.130 132 99 361 M. Kuritar 89153 152 394 R. Horvath133 137 143 413 Total 1981 L. Bell 128137 164 429 Ann Major 134110 111 355 We certainly hope that Ethel Koy, Velma Handa, Marie Gal-

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