DIARY Friday, January 30.
The Mile o' Dimes becomes for one young man a gleaming, silver road, leading straight to paradise. You remember, at the time of Estelle's wedding, my mentioning a young man, son of a good friend of ours, who was stricken with infantile paralysis. Twenty-four years old, active and ambitious, he was suddenly laid low last October. At first his whole body seemed paralyzed; slowly life came into his arms and torso, leaving only his legs completely helpless. After much correspondence and anxious waiting it was finally arranged that Edward should go to Warm Springs, Ga. Today - our President's birthday - became indeed a red letter day for our young friend. This tall, quiet, clean-cut young man - so long "on the horizontal" - was beside himself with joy. "Mother," he confided to his best friend, "if you just get me down there, I'll be hitch-hiking home." The eternal optimism of youth! "Mother" went with him - in the drawing-room of a train - leaving here at 3 p.m. today. I will keep you posted as to his progress.
At ten o'clock tonight our doorbell rang; then began a merry, rhythmic tapping on the front door. Who could it be? Except for a slumbering daughter I was alone in the house, and slightly dishabille. But the gay, insistent little rat-a-tat told me to hurry down. There was Virgil's and my niece, Gladys, Phillippa's oldest girl, and her "boy friend;" and there, on "Glad's" left hand, fourth finger, shown an exquisite diamond ring. In Glad's clear blue eyes and open countenance shown all the happiness and radiance that goes with that first real love and betrothal. Elwood grew up on the farm, and has the wholesomeness, the depth of character that belongs to those who have lived close to Nature. He goes into the army next week. But in the stiff drills and long marches he will carry something that makes his step lighter - the heart of a bonnie lassie so "gude and true." It is just like thoughtful, unselfish Gladys to share her happiness with others. She and Elwood made the rounds of relatives tonight. Oh, dear God, keep them happy.
Saturday - Pinochle tonight, by the open fire - with good friends - who happen to be Estelle's parents-in-law. The howling blizzard outside only accentuates our comfort and cheer within. Our boys are growing up. Virgil Jr. works as pin boy in a bowling alley after school and week-end evenings. The new financial independence has hastened the growth. Suddenly he is taking no more bossing from his big sister. Virgil, the gentle, the deferential one, is telling his sister where to head in at. Estelle stares in amazement. I remember - 'way back, years and years ago, at a Sabbath school convention in Blairsville, a wonderful person, a Mr. Stevenson, said it would be like that. Suddenly a boy asserts his manhood. His Declaration of Independence is not always couched in graceful language - but it is to be respected. I have discovered that the new coat of mail is vulnerable - to a very soft voice, and a disarming smile. (Oh, we're learning, aren't we?) I must jot down two things about this "suddenly grown up" member of our family. Virgil would not let me tell you two weeks ago that the term, "Victory Bond" used in the poem, was his idea. "We're past defense now, he said, "we are out for victory." As long as V. Jr. is around we will have with us the modern version of the "absent-minded professor." He puts the sugar in the refrigerator, (frozen assets), burns the toast all the time, leaves his hat at church, his rubbers at school, and his flute at home the night of a concert (or would do so if his father didn't follow him up). The other morning he was searching everywhere for his flute. "Isn't it in your case?" I queried. "Yes, but where is the case?" Right under your arm, dear." Oh, dear!
Sabbath - I was about to pass softly over this day - on which your heathen correspondent prolonged her vacation from all church and club activities. But I thought of something to share with you. It's too good to keep. (I have my beloved's permission - which proves what a good sport he is.) Virgil Sr. played a cello solo at Sunday school this morning, accompanied by his twin sister, Phillippa, who is a piano teacher. And that reminds me of a story. You remember "Beulah," the colored woman of generous dimensions, who attended Estelle's wedding? Before the ceremony she served as assistant "wrap-remover, lady-in-waiting, corsage-pinner - everything but kitchen-clearer-upper, as she was supposed to be. But she took such a personal interest in the whole proceedings that she attracted the favorable attention of most of the guests. At least three housewives resolved to engage Beulah for the first needed help - at weddings or window-washing; Phillippa hired her right on the spot - for weekly cleaning. Some friends of ours took Beulah to the street-car after the reception. She was quite pleased with her suddenly acquired new job that promised to be steady, and shared her enthusiasm with our friends, Jimmy and Marcella. Jimmy volunteered the information that Beulah's new employer is Virgil's twin sister. Now, Virgil is only 1-1/2 inches over five feet in height, whereas Phillippa tops him by at least three inches, and about 25 pounds in weight. Besides, my husband has dark hair and eyes, Phillippa is very fair. Beulah couldn't believe the twinship. "Lan sakes, you doan mean it." Pause. "Well, I must say she sho' grabbed off mos' of the nou'ishment." Beulah continues to polish up Phillippa's house and entertain the whole family with her quaint remarks.
Sincerely,
Florence B. Taylor