| OCR Text |
Show Kathleen Norris Says: The Man led Siren Mi ll Nvjiillcntr WNII li'mitiirra. Our sreond Utile boy was born invert months ago; my oldest is six, a rarely bright und loveable boy, but crippled, be cannot walk. WAR TOUCHES US ALL Even though ive may not be at the fiphting front carrying a gun and running the risks of battle, the war usually alters all of our lives to some extent. A tyjiical illustration is the story of a wife and mother whose comfortable home has become a trailer because her husband's work has forced them to move. Added to her worries over her little lame boy is the disreputable action of her husband who has been spending much of his time in the home of another woman. Kathleen A' orris advises her to bury herself in the work of rebuilding re-building a home for her children chil-dren and her husband when he wakes up. By KATHLEEN N ORRIS WE NEED a great deal more simple, old-fashioned morality in this world of ours, which of course is simply to say that we need more of God; more faith, more charity, more decency, more goodness. Or, to use very old-fashioned words indeed, in-deed, more sanctifying grace. Grace! What a beautiful old word that is. Grace to be strong and good, helpful and hopeful, firm in holding to our own high ideals. "Plain living and high thinking are no more," Wordsworth said a hundred years ago. One wonders won-ders what he would have said today! If we know that men and women are honestly trying to be better themselves, and make the world a better place, it is easy to have dealings deal-ings with them. They keep their promises, we keep ours. They bring to any ditTiculty, any problem, a true desire to solve it according to the laws of justice. They make mistakes; mis-takes; we all do. But the mistakes of honest persons are much less dangerous than the success of dishonest dis-honest ones. Ethel Mayers writes me from a trailer camp situated near one of our largest ship-building plants. Ethel is 31; she has been married for seven years. This is her problem. prob-lem. Trailer Life a Struggle. "Two years ago," says her letter, "I was a happy wife, living modestly mod-estly in a little home we owned, in Cleveland. Fred's salary ranged about $150 a month, which was plenty plen-ty for me, and I kept a nice home, free of debt. Then came the war and Fred was sent here, his salary jumped to anything between $200 and $2C0 a week. Our second little boy was born seven months ago; my oldest is six, a bright and love-able love-able boy, but crippled; he cannot walk. Conditions here are difficult; there being no house available we live in our trailer; four of us in two small rooms. Fred sleeps in a comfortable arrangement in the car, and I manage both children in the trailer, but on hot nights, what with the racket all about us, talk, singing, Victrolas, radios, and sometimes some-times quarrels, we don't get good rest. Marketing is hard, too; I wheel the baby to the shops, stand in line, bargain and wait. Even if we leave a list the day before we have to wait our turn; clerks are overworked over-worked and unfamiliar with the stock, and altogether this whole summer has been a struggle for me. "But that isn't the worst. In the suburban town near us there are some beautiful homes, and in one of the most beautiful there is a woman wom-an whose husband is an army captain, cap-tain, over in Africa somewhere, and who has plenty of money and leisure. She is very hospitable to the defense-plant defense-plant men, and my husband often goes there with the other boys. They play card games and have a regular regu-lar spread at 10 o'clock every night; cold meats and salads and drinks; of course our crowded camp has nothing to offer in comparison to it. My husband denies that he has fallen in love with this woman, whom I will call Rose, but he is often there at times when the crowd isn't has more than once occupied her spare room when he was late or tired, and tells me he enjoys the big cool showers, show-ers, fine linen, and quiet. Rose is about 35; my husband a year or two younger. "Never having been a jealous woman, even though Fred is an unusually un-usually handsome and attractive man, I have let this go on, glad that he could find so much relaxation and amusement. But now things tire getting bad at home; orderly housekeeping in a trailer, with washing wash-ing and toilet facilities at a distance, dis-tance, is impossible. Until my darling dar-ling little Bruce can have an operation, op-eration, he will be lame; the baby is of course exacting, still at the formula and didy-wash stage. I get tired, rumpled, discouraged, lonely; the injustice of the whole situation irks me into occasional ill-temper. And Fred is either silent, absent-minded, absent-minded, or cross and critical. There does seem to be a queer irony in the fact that now that so many of us could afford better living, we can't find it. Can you suggest some way in which I can bring my husband hus-band to a sense of the unfairness of demanding so much of me, and wandering off himself to comfort, coolness, amusement, flattering companionship? com-panionship? He has always been considerate before, affectionate with me and the children, and we miss it." Marriage Suffers During War. My dear Ethel. I say in reply, the cost of war isn't paid entirely in precious lives and expensive guns. So tremendous a world upset as this demoralizes us, every one, tears all our lives up by the roots, shatters our life-long ideals' of honor and decency. de-cency. On all sides there are strange outbreaks of immorality; racial troubles that have slept for almost a century; young blood recognizing rec-ognizing no authority and obeying no law. And on all sides, also, thank God, are titanic efforts to stem this tide of lawlessness. Fine men and women wom-en everywhere are giving their time and their money and their most earnest ear-nest effort to get at the sources of criminal outbreaks, to protect youth, to improve living conditions, to safeguard safe-guard marriage. You must put yourself in line with these workers. You must overlook the shameful facts that the woman you call Rose is deliberately breaking break-ing up your marriage, evidently in idle fun, and that Fred has tem-poiarily tem-poiarily forgotten that he promised to stand by you no matter what conditions con-ditions arose in your wedded life together. to-gether. Fred is excited, tired, dazzled daz-zled by novelty and flattery. Like some of the European travelers of yesterday, he has left his code behind be-hind him; he has lost the guiding strings of home, neighbors, customs, self-respect. His new work, his big salary, his right to enter Rose's handsome home all these have gone to his head. But this is only a phase. Do the best you can to weather it; save what money you can in solid government gov-ernment bonds; wait for saner times as we all must. No life is untouched by today's holocaust; if you can keep yours serene and normal, you will emerge from these times somewhat ahead of the rest. |
