To hold - above all else - our friendships dear;
To strengthen the resolves of yesteryear.
****
Happy New Year, my friends!
This is not an idle wish - sounding brass or tinkling cymbal - but a wish straight from the heart. "A happy child is a good child." And we are but children grown. This is Christmas Eve - in the morning. I have discovered that, if I am ever to get any writing done in this busy household, it will have to be during the wakeful hours from 4 a.m. 'til it's time to get up. Then I am very sleepy. Oh, the perversity of human nature! Right now I am sick of all Persians, all Jamaicans (including the preacher) and every human being that is brought up with the idea that somebody else should do the work. Isn't that a dreadful way to talk about your guest? Well, they are not my guests. Four years ago Virgil, Jr. brought home from Ohio State a boy from Peru. We were so charmed with "Louie" that we felt we had much to learn from people of Latin America. I am sure it is true of Iran and the West Indies, represented in our household this Christmas vacation. Certainly no humans could be more charming and delightful than these men from Jamaica. But they are so used to having servants wait on them and pick up after them. Of course I won't play the latter role - but I get so rebellious at having to train them to wait on themselves. As for our visitor from Iran, he is very gracious and gentlemanly. But he sits around all day, mooning because no one has time to show him our city. (Our boys are working). Well, he has his own car (and a beauty). Why doesn't he explore by himself? You see, I just don't understand these "furriners."
Now that I have all my gripe off my chest, let me turn to a happier theme - which is the Spirit of Christmas, exemplified in your lovely cards and messages. You cannot know what they mean to me. I am so glad that you are enjoying the letters and stories about the Saltsburg of long ago. Of special joy and interest was the "inside note" from Frances Martin Thornton, my beloved pupil of 33 years ago, whose grandfather was a contemporary of J.C. Moore's. Great were the tales that this grandfather would tell - of the old canal days, the early railroad, and the "drovers" bringing their herds of cattle, to be shipped to "far-away Pittsburgh." Of course it always warms the very cockles of my heart to hear from my beloved pupils of so long ago. In my first letter to my home town paper after I moved to Cleveland I wrote, ."..in my own heart I have adopted those children for life." And it's true. I rejoice over their successes - and long to hear how others have made out. I hear that one of my Nowrytown boys - so full of promise 35 years ago - has slipped downhill. It troubles me deeply., I wish I could reach him. Well - as I read over the first part of this letter, I think I've slipped quite a bit myself the last year or two - and will have to start climbing again in the New Year.
A better, richer, climbinger New Year to you all.
Most Sincerely,
Florence B. Taylor
2907 Hampshire Rd.,
Cleveland Hts. 18, O.
P.S. You will be glad to know that Sister Margery is out of the woods, but she will be in the hospital 'til about New Year's.