Greetings for February, folks!

This is now February 3. Golly, this is Cousin Knox's birthday. Just remembered. Well, yesterday was Ground-hog Day. But don't you worry about his seeing his shadow. If he is as smart as his fellow rodents, he took one whiff of the frigid air, and crawled right back into his bomb and blizzard shelter. According to radio reports, especially from the east and west coasts, Cleveland is again completely buried under snow. The weird statues silhouetted against the winter sky are the foolhardy people, frozen in their tracks. Now, that's the way the other states would like to tell it. After the Big Snow in late November we received all kinds of letters, commiserating with us on being buried under anywhere from 30 inches to 19 feet of snow. Well, don't forget that Pittsburgh had it worse than Cleveland.

The Saltsburg Press has just come. I am unhappily reminded that I promised a good letter this week. Of course I can blame everything on the weather! May I leave this thought with you in these trying times? A Cleveland housewife who is always giving my favorite columnist a boost, writes, "We shouldn't speak dolefully of 'these days'. My own good Presbyterian training gives me assurance that since we are knee deep in them, they must be the days that were meant for us, and by using them the best we know how (and KEEPING BUSY), we'll get through each day as it comes. 'As Thy Days So Shall Thy Strength Be'."

Faithfully yours,
Florence B. Taylor
1711 Preyer Rd.,
Cleveland Hts. 18, O.

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