Verhovayak Lapja, 1940. január-június (23. évfolyam, 1-26. szám)
1940-05-09 / 19. szám
Page 4 Verhovayák Lapja THE PRIDE OF RICHES What a life a rich man leads! Nobody stops in front of his house on a balmy summer evening to pass the time of day. Nobody strolls up on his big front porch and settles himself down in a big easy chair and chats until bedtime. The rich man just sits up there all alone —sits all alone with his thoughts, such as they are. I’m sure I wouldn’t want a rich man’s thoughts as my sole companions on a balmy summer evening. The long, cold winter nights pass in silence, too, save for the crackle of logs on the hearth. There is no tap on the door as Neighbor Jim drops in for a smoke and maybe a spot of tea. The lights are all ablaze in the rich man’s home and it’s probably warm inside, but somehow the rich man’s gold has served notice to the world that he is to be left alone. Of course, when they’re invited the friends will come, but it won’t be like dropping in unbidden, with a cheery “Hello!” to greet you as the door swings wide. Maybe the rich man is just the same as he always was: maybe he longs for company just as he used to in the old days. But somehow, his money has grown up into a kind of fence that has no gate and no one wants to climb over. Mothers Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall: A mother’s secret love outlives them all. ■—Oliver Wendell Holmes. WE FEEL very humble, writing about mothers. The subject is such a reverent one that mere words can give no picture of its true import. "A mother,” said Coleridge, a famous poet, •‘is the holiest thing alive.” After that, any puny praise of ours would only spoil things. So below we merely describe mothers of other lands ... Boys and girls reading these words will notice that we have not mentioned the mothers of America. We thought they would like to do that, for they know their own mothers so much better, of course, than we do. We think their teachers—and their parents, too—will be pleased if they write a little story about the one they love best—their mother, j IN AFRICA. Mothers in the | Central African jungles do not t have to spend much time in housework. Parents and children live very simply. Their home, which the mother has helped to build, is merely a hut of thick grass. There is no furniture, but bright decorations give the little house a certain attraction. Even the wooden cooking pots are carved and painted. African mothers need not bother making clothes for their youngsters, for it is so hot in that country that wearing ap- j parel is really a burden. For supper the African mother may prepare a treat for her family: boiled green bananas and roasted grubs, which are big, white worms that have been caught by the children. The water used to boil the fruit is heated by dropping hot stones into it. Like all happy women, mothers of the African jungle enjoy dancing on occasion. They love to join their husbands in cavorting around a great fire during hunting feasts. IN HOLLAND. Dutch mothers have fresh, rosy cheeks and are usually pretty in a plump, solid way. They owe much of their health to the rich milk, butter and cheese that they consume. Dutch children, who are just as sturdy and pink-cheeked, shout with glee when their mother agrees to skate with them, which she often does, on the frozen canals in Winter. Mother’s bunchy skirts—she wears several in cold weather!—short sleeves and white cap frame her in an appealing picture as she skims across the ice. Most of the time, however, mother cooks and knits and scrubs. To Dutch mothers justly goes much of the credit for making Holland renowned as the “spicand-span” country. IN CHINA. China is the oldest nation in the world; Chinese mothers, having so much experience to guide them, ought, therefore, to know how to bring up children in the best way possible. One thing is certain: the children of no other land are as respectful to their parents and as obedient as are Chinese youngsters. When a Chinese baby is one month old he may have cake end tea; at four months he is given pig's feet to eat to help give him the strength to walk, I and when he is one year old he I gets rice. When a baby falls, its mother, in mock anger, beats the floor and sings a rhyme which means: "One, two, three, four, What are you hurting baby fort” While their daughters are still small, mothers teach them embroidery. In the villages, girls and boys and mothers, too, go out to the field during harvest time and help gather the rice. The dress of I mothers who still cling to traditional costume is quaint and colorful. Bareheaded, the women are arrayed in coats of red, blue, ! green or purple, with gaily colored trousers and silk shoes or slippers. IN FRANCE. Life in France is not very much different from ours. It is only in the villages, where old customs linger, that we see peasant mothers dressed in snowy white bonnets, brightly colored shawls and ample aprons of blue and white print. The French are a thrifty, providentpeople, and mothers are very careful to teach their boys and girls good habits that will make life easier for them as they grow older. French mothers, as their husbands and sons and daughters like their homeland so much that they very seldom leave it. IN INDIA. Mysterious India, country of fabulous wealth and wondrous tales, is not a land of enchantment for mothers. It is the custom there for women to marry when they are young girls. Their husbands are often much cider. And women in India must work very hard. Thus they grow Cld quickly and have neither the time nor the energy to romp very much with their children. The caste system prevails in India, which prevents anyone from rising above his family's station in life. Poverty is the condition of most mothers, but there are wealthy Hindu women who enjoy draping themselves in bejeweled dresses embroidered in silver. Even their babies are bedecked with costly jewelry. IN LAPLAND. Laplanders, who are found in Finland, Norway and Sweden, live in tents, for they must move frequently in search of food for their reindeer, of which they keep many herds. Thus you can readily see that Lapp mothers are kept rather busy breaking up house and starting anew every few months. The scene inside a Laplander's tent is a simple, but cozy one. A fire in the middle of the floor lights up the entire “room.” Over the blaze hangs an iron pot in which reindeer meat is being boiled. Mother has wrapped the baby in dried grass and reindeer skin and fastened the child in a little box up near the top of the tent, out of the way. Every so often hungry wolves attack the reindeer. When this happens mother puts on skis, calls the dogs, and joins the men and boys in chasing the marauding beasts. IN NIPPON. Japan, or Nippon, has been called a paradise for babies and children, for they always seem to be having such a good time. One reason for this is that grown-ups, especially mothers, play with them so much, joining in games and telling stories and posing riddles. Japanese children seldom cry. Much loving care is bestowed on the young children by the mother, and although she rarely kisses them—kissing is not considered very healthful—she has quiet little caresses to lavish on them. If she is an old-fashioned mother she will wear the picturesque kimono, really a loose dressing-gown, with a girdle of gay sashes. For the mother of the higher classes the day begins with a stroll around the garden before breakfast. There she tends her plants and waters her flowers. Japanese love flowers and decoiate their homes with them, as we do with pictures. After the children are off to school mother frequently starches old clothes and stretches them on a large board to dry in the sunshine. Nearly all Japanese women make their own and their children’s clothes. An old custom compels the mistress of the house, even if she be of the highest rank, to serve her husband and children herself at meal time, instead of letting the servants wait on them. THE MAORIS. The Maoris are natives of New Zealand, which lies near Australia in the Pacific Ocean. The people belong to the May 9, 1940. Bela Bartók in New York By Betty Carol Balega “The night shall be filled with music And the cares that infest the day, Shall fold up their tents like Arabs, And as silently steal away.” The concert in honor of Béla Bartók at the McMillan Academic Theatre, Columbia University, on May First, was indeed a night filled with music. brown Polynesian race. Maori women are very friendly and upon meeting each other they rub foreheads. Such a greeting is fun to watch. Mothers often carry their babies on their backs, wrapped tightly in enormous shawls. Women, as well as men. are excellent swimmers, age being no barrier to the sport. During respites from their household duties Maori mothers derive pleasure from carving ornamental designs on wood. IN HUNGARY. It is hardly necessary to write about Hungarian Mothers. All of us know very well, how dear they are to us. Since 1920, in many localities in Hungary also, “Mother’s Day” is celebrated. It is not celebrated on the same date as here in the United States but a date is set aside to honor “the holiest thing alive.” The many American-Hungarians, returning to Hungary, have been instrumental in establishing “Mother’s Day” there. In Hungary also, “Mother’s Day” is celebrated by holding banquets and gatherings of various proportions at which speech es are given and poems recited, songs sung in honor of the mothers. Perhaps nowhere are the relations between mothers and children as close, warm and spontaneous as in Hungary. The loving care, selfsacrifice and solicitude of Hungarian mothers is reciprocated by Hungarian children with the utmost love, respect and obedience to them, equaled only by that tendered Chinese mothers by their children. This is true of all classes and creeds in Hungary, the hum blest peasant mother as well as one living in the most luxurious palace. If the idea of “Mother’s Day” should gain impetus and become universal, there may come a day when “they” will raise their voices in World affairs and thereby be instrumental in making this “Vale of Tears” a less trying and tumultuous place in which to live. A capacity crowd filled the Theatre to hear the great master perform, and were amply rewarded by his efforts. In some of Mr. Bartók’s music heavy and unnatural chords predominated, but nevertheless, it could be distinguished as unmistakably Hungarian in origin by the subtle underlying suggestions of tempo and rhythm. I can truthfully say that “Night’s Music” was the most remarkable piece of piano interpretations - of night sounds that this writer has ever heard. A fantasy woven with delicate intricacies around the calls of night birds and insects that wandered off into a silver thread of melody, “Night's Music” held the audience in its spell until the last note was played. Other compositions rendered were: “Quartet No.l,” ‘ Rhapsody No. 1 (1929),” “Petite Suite—in five parts/’ “Hungarian Folk Songs,” “Mikrokosmos,” and “Opus 7” (1908). ^ Assisting artists: Joseph Szigeti, violin; Enid Szanthó, contralto; New York Philharmonic Symphony String Quartet: Michael Piastro, Imre Pogány, Zoltán Kürthy, Joseph Schuster. After the concert Mr. Bartók was téndered a reception by the Hungarian Reference Library at the Master Institute of Arts on Riverside Drive. There 1 discovered that the artist was truly as great a personality and as charming as his performance had indicated he would be. Many notable Hungarians were present at the gay and socially significant affair, a few of whom I shall mention here: Dr. Roland de Hellobranth, of Ventnor, New Jersey; Mr. Andrew Pavlish, of Athens, Ohio; Count and Countess O. Lefebre d’Ovidio, from the Italian Consulate; Mr. and Mrs. André Kertész; Prof. Clarence A. Manning, Columbia University; Mr. James A. Bellah; Emery Kálmán; Mr. and Mrs. Ä. Silberman; Mrs. Robert A. Barry, President of the New York Society of Women; Dr. and Mrs. Tibor de Cholnoky; Prof, and Mrs: E. Gergely, Chestnut College; and Herman H. A. Heydt. «/ ntut r ^Itching;«. 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