Verhovayak Lapja, 1943. július-december (26. évfolyam, 26-53. szám)

1943-07-08 / 27. szám

July 8, 1943 Tage 5 Verhovayak Lapjc The Ferret m m WHITMORE LAKE — JUNE 30, 1943 Guess where I’m writing this column — right on the end of our dock! The typewriter i s raised upon good old Webster’s Dic­tionary, m y feet are dan­gling in the water, good Mrs. Jolán Lucas old Sol is beating down— about time too, after the 47 degrees cold weather we've been having the past week, and all I’ve got to do now is think up things to write about. This lovely situation I'm in at this moment is going to test my wiiting ingenuity, so let’s see what develops. * 4* * Received a letter from Amelia Nyers, our very good editor, asking me why I haven’t written lately. Well, it’s kind of a long story, and numerous friends have asked why I haven’t written them, so if I give you a short resume here, perhaps it’ll save me loads of time, and I can spend it having fun. Came out here Sunday, May 30; it was raining buckets, had a flat along the way, parked on a soft shoulder, couldn’t get the 'dern thing fixed, paid five bucks to a farmer out here to tow us in, and finally we reached the lake; drenched, cold, tired, thoroughly disgusted. When we reached the cottage, we built a roaring fire in the fireplace, put lots of warm dry clothes on, made a pot of tea, put the kids to bed, put the lights out, and stretched our feet, Roasting our toes — gee, the solid comfort of it all! You know, I’ve learned a lot of things out here — the patience of Job is needed to exist without the comforts we’ve been accustomed to. My son Skipper had to stay in Detroit to finish school, Luke (Mr. Ferret to you folks) worked the grave­yard shift; that is, he started at 4 in the afternoon and reached home at four in the morning, which left my 4% year old Larry and me to try amuse ourselves. We had no boat for the first two weeks, it rained nearly all the time, too cold to go swimming, fishing season wasn’t open yet — gee, when Luke left for work, it was so still here in the grove, you could have heard a pin drop. But we managed, somehow; in fact, it developed some patience in me. After our supper at night, Larry and I would pedal into the vil­lage, about a mile and a half from here, or we’d pedal the other way about eight tenths of a mile, just for an ice cream cone, or a bar of candy — it gave us something to look for­ward to each day. I’d exchange my views about the weather, the shortage of certain foods, and miscellaneous other subjects, with the natives and other re­sorters, and can you believe it, soon the war, and Verhovay work and city life were things of another world. The only im­portant events which remained were to eat, sleep, and swim each day. I can honestly say that I ran the gamut of human emotions; disgust, fear (nights when there were thunderstorms and lightning, and only Larry and I in the cottage) lone­someness, economy (doing with­out things I’ve been accus­tomed to, delight in the at­mosphere and the lake and the beauty of sunsets, deep re­laxation, finally peace settling on my weary soul. Then Skipper was excused from school a week early, the kids began dropping out for an evening, or overnight, fishing season opened, we got our row­boat, and first thing I knew, I was alive again! Things hap­pening every day, getting ac­quainted with my neighbors, swimming every day, pedaling the bike around the lake every day, going to the free movies in the village — everyone sits on blankets or camp chairs which are brought from home, mos­quitoes eat us up, we walk to the village green, the pictures are old, but good, all the farmers, natives and resorters are present, and it’s so much fun! Never noticed before how friendly a small place can be — folks you never knew before talking to you. In Detroit, you can go day after day, without anyone caring if you were alive or dead. Even the coming district con­vention is just a pleasant, hazy dream to look forward to, and the Verhovay Journal is some­thing I’ve been bragging about to the resorters out here. Guess it was Miss Nyers’ -letter which finally woke me up to the fact that it was about time I wrote again. 12:01 A. M., June 25 — BASS SEASON OPENS ON INLAND LAKES! Mr, Ferret decided to take off from his T. A. duties (Technical Advisor) at the Bomber Plant to get home and cast off the very first minute the season opened. I went to bed about 10 o’clock the evening of the 24th because I knew very well that I’d have to be up all night, trying for those first fish. Just about a minute before' midnight, the silence of the night was rended by motor boats starting up, subdued talking by excited disciples of ole Isaac Walton, Luke’s old tub pulling in ex­actly at midnight, and two minutes later, out in the boat, pulling away from the dock! Gee, it was exciting! Soon the cacophony of sounds settled down to a silence as remote as the stars which shone above us. Every now and then an excited voice in the stillness of the night broke out with, “Boy, what a beauty!” We both got our limit of bass about five in the morning. Did you ever stay up to see day break? Well, it’s twice as beautiful at a Lake in the month of June. One minute it’s dark, then the moon comes out, and you fish in the moon­light all night, then a slight graying of the sky in the east, the old rooster in the farm­yard across the Lake starts crowing, which gives the signal for the rest of them, birds start twittering, golly, it would take a poet to describe the beauty of it all — I’m ' just a budding journalist! Funny thing just happened — Which just goes to show you how far my sense of humor has been developed out here in the country — the milkman just tooted his horn, so I went up to be sure he left a quart of chocolate milk (another thing Which is hard to get in Detroit). He told me that my skin was getting nice and brown from all that chocolate milk I’ve been drinking — he told me further that if my skin got any browner, he’d call me Flossie. Can you beat that? Which should be about enough of my private life for the moment. Can you folks under­stand why I’ve neglected writing? Too many little, new events happening. * * * President John Fisher and qther members told me at the last meeting held in May that they’d like to come out, but due to gas rationing etc. it’d be im­possible. Now, however, several members have asked me how to get here and when were we going to have that weiner roast, so here’s the data: Our usual third Sunday falls on July 18, but due to not knowing the date of the district convention, it may be that July 25 would be a better date. Soon as I know, I’ll call President Fisher, and those members wish­ing to come out to the lake will call Fisher and arrangements for transportation will be made by the Entertainment Committee. Fisher’s phone number is Vine­­wood 2-4517, or call Mary Hor­vath at VInewood 2-8668, and they’ll give you all the in­formation you need. The Enter­tainment Committee will have to arrange for cars with C gasoline coupons to bring the gang out, you’ll all have to bring your own weiners or lunch and we’ll pitch in for the drinks. Here’s how you come out — if you take Ford Road or Michigan Avenue to Ann Arbor, you take US23 to Whitmore Lake, 11 miles out of Ann Arbor. Turn right at the Mobilgas Station and drive a mile and a half to cottage 641. It’s in the midst of a grove of oak trees, about 100 feet off East Shore Drive. You can’t miss it. Or if you get as far as the Lake and cáh’t locate the cottage call 3342 Whitmore Lake and we’ll come and escort you in. Our address is 641 Kempf’s Grove, Whitmore Lake. So keep either the 18th or 25th of July open for a grand day at the Lake! * * * Bits of news of far-off mem­bers: W.A.A.C. Helen Zaker had ; her picture in the camp paper of Fort Eustis, Virginia, when she was in the choir singing at Easter services. She certainly sends me interesting letters. Helen expects to be home very shortly and will try to make it out here to the cottage to see us. Daniel L. Robb has been con­fined to the University Hospital at Ann Arbor with a sinus operation. I believe he gets his release in a day or two and plans to spend a few days recuperating at the Lake. Casmer Bores used to be an old member of 429, and recently married Mrs. Mary Bores, is now a member of 429. Now that Mary is our newest member, she ought to get Casmer to join up again. Josephine Pomroy is the mother of a darling little baby boy. I didn’t get his name, but I suppose it’ll be Edward, after Daddy. Congrats, Josephine. Some of our older members should come out to the Lake some Sunday with my mother and have a good old-fashioned szalonna sütés. We have a nice beach and the kids and I built up a small outdoor fire-place. Lot« of fun. Come on, Mrs. Anna Horvath, Mrs. Samuel Toth, Mrs. Theresa Sara, Michael Kuritar, Daniel Robb, Mrs. Peter Soos and the rest of you nice members. You are all welcome. Call Mom at Vine­­wood 1-7547 and she’ll give you all directions. Since I’m not in town so much, I don’t know what’s going on, but my beloved bowling team told me it’s about time they heard from me. Ethel Koy, Helen Kastura, Marie Gallovich, and Mary Raffee, please send me your bowling sanction cards so that I can mail them in with the men’s sanction card to the Bowling Committee so that we may receive our $10.00 con­solation prize. Velma Handa, one of our newest members, and Mary Kuritar, a first year bowler, also have varsity sweaters like the rest of the bowling team. Velma is very conscious of being a Verhovay member and I’m tickled, because when the bowling team used to go for the monthly outing, Velma felt left out because all we ever discussed were Verhovay activ­ities. Now that she is one of us, she’s right in the midst of dis­cussions. Mary Kuritar works days again, so she will probably be with the bowling team this year. Mary is another mem­ber who plans to spend her vacation with the Lucases. The more the merrier! * * * i***­Thank goodness, there is another young member who sides with me about holding the convention this year of war. Thanks, John Sabo, for airing your views — I don’t feel so badly now about attacking our mutual friends’ opinions re­garding the convention. I hope that Bill Kohut doesn’t feel as though I picked on him per­sonally; it’s just that the way I had it figured out, and the way John Sabo so nicely expressed it, the convention to be held in Pittsburgh in September wouldn’t need to tax the needs of the army and navy and defense plants to such an extent. On the other hand, if the big-wigs in Washington can plan for "after the war” why not Verhovay? After all, when the majority of those boys and girls come home, something will have to be offered to them to boost up their morale, and lift up those let-down feelings. We must make them feel a part of normal, every-day life again, and the only way I can see to do this is to offer them some new slant in Ver­hovay life. What we should do, when we go to the convention, is to offer up new ideas to interest the younger generation. It should be something besides the insurance protection, be­cause after all the death and sickness the boys have seen, they’ll want to be reminded as little as possible of these things. We must think up new sports ideas, new social activities, to make the group come together again. Now, more than ever, I feel the need of discussing "after the war” problems is urgent. So let’s not always be giving things up “for the duration” — let’s think of “after the war” for a change. Guess I’ll be going to the district convention as delegate for 429, and who ever gets elected as National Delegate from District 34, please bear in mind that you are representing the younger generation of Ver­hovay, and all their needs must be brought to the attention of the convention delegates. This is your opportunity for settling old disputes and new ideas. Let’s get good delegates to represent us! Thanks to Mrs. Mary Hor­vath, who was elected as District Delegate; she is letting me, as Alternate, represent the branch, and I hope to do my best for all of you. If you have anything you wish me to bring up at this district convention, please let me know within the week, as the meeting will come off very shortly in Toledo, Ohio, and I must know all your desires. •.» * * * 1*1 I certainly hope that the editors forgive me for writing so much at this time, but not having written the last two issues, maybe I’ll be forgiven. Will try to have more news for you next Issue — in the mean­time, don’t let the heat get any of you down. So long until next issue and keep smiling! FULL SPEED AHEAD —Wjg

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