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Show Do You Remember? . . . akin to sorrow, a3 of the razing of the Salt Lake theatre. Eut time marches on! In the warmth and glow of Christmas trees, our homes so snugly safe from cold and war it is hard to believe we are at sword's points, while carolers are still singing over the radio, "Holy Night, Silent Night," isn't it? Hard to realize there are wounded and dying and hungry and destitute ones the world over. A little Japanese girl of Ogden came excitedly into the schoolroom last week, ran up to her teacher and shrilled, "Do you know that the dam Japs have sunk one of our ships!" This is a true story. Poor little innocents who are American-born, American-born, and know of no other country. coun-try. Happy New Year, everybody! Do you remember? By MAUDE H. BENEDICT We salute you, 1942! From your birth may you begin to make this the last world war ever to go down in the hstory of a civilized world! The new year, always depicted as a cherubic infant, finds itself facing one of the most important, yet most dreadful, tasks of bringing bring-ing peace to many countries, our own beloved America included. Father Time, with his scythe or sickle, may well be glad to leave a world of hatreds and bloodshed. New year's day, do you remember, remem-ber, used to be a day of celebration celebra-tion for everyone. We visited our friends and neighbors and made many resolutions, which we broke promptly, as we do to this day. Today, the writer resolves not to make any resolutions for time has shown the utter uselessness of trying to keep them. The reason, we believe, is that we resolve to do, or not to do, the very things foreign to our dispositions, dispo-sitions, so no wonder we break the promises made to ourselves. Do you remember that sometimes some-times on new year's morning, Santa San-ta Claus had miraculously made us another vsit, even filling and hanging hang-ing up stockings that we had forgotten? for-gotten? It was long a mystery to have two visits from Santa in one week! Do you remember that during the holidays that sleigh bells jingled jin-gled on the streets all day long and far into the night? How the whole gang piled into a double-bed sleigh, sitting with our backs to the box, and down the center would be large heated stones for our feet, and blankets to cover us, as we glided along behind a team of horses ? We remember on the cold, clear, frosty nights how steam would rise on the horses' backs, and the breath coufd be seen. How we sang all the sleighing songs: "Merrily We Roll Along" and "We Won't Go Home Until Morning" singing ourselves hoarse, and feeling the throat tighten with the cold. Where has the charm of being half frozen to death gone ? We have ridden in heated cars for so many 9 years that the thought of sleigh rides in zero weather sends chills creeping up the spine. One of Springville's wits remarked that if one wanted all the thrills of a bobsleigh ride, all he need do was go outside in zero weather, sit down in the snow on the north side of a house, and put his feet in a bucket of ice water! We recall wearing brother's long-legged drawers over our shoes and stockinged feet and legs, when we went out with the kids to slide down the hills! There were no play suits, snow suits, nor ski togs, in those days. One wore what one had of warm clothing, whether it matched, or looked "fetching", or looked like a scarecrow but did we have fun! And did we have chillblains, and chapped faces, and hands! Many's the time we rubbed our chillblained feet with snow to bring back circulation, cir-culation, and save having frozen toes. Tonight there's a moon, a clear, cold sky, but no snow on paved streets the youngsters nowadays in a city never know the delight of sleigh rides on country roads where one sees a world all white and sparkling. Our wish for Springville's new year is that the new hospital will be built; that the population of our home town will increase; and that prosperity, health, and unity will prevail in all the projects to be carried out, whether civilian or defense. de-fense. We especially congratulate the Herald on its Christmas edition. It is beautiful, and the poem on the first page, "The First Christmas," by Myrtle H. Conover, was so beautiful beau-tiful and appropriate to the season. We also congratulate Clara G. Boyer on her Christmas poem in the same issue. Nowhere, we be lieve, in a city of Springville's size and population, can there be found more talented ones. Springville's main street will seem a change to us, with "Beefsteak" Harrison's hotel gone. So long symbolic of hospitality, hos-pitality, good food, and good will it will be missed. Leaves a feeling |