OCR Text |
Show Do You Remember? . . . By 4 MAUDE H. BENEDICT Home again, and the mountain sides aflame with Autumn's salute to Winter. Mosaic colors on every hillside and the lovely tang of fall in the air we breathe here. Autumn is like the mid-years of life. Some of the trees are already al-ready barren of leaves, while others are green as in the Springtime. Spring-time. Like life, for some of us are more favored than others, in health, wealth, and happiness. Why this is so, no one knows. But midyears mid-years find more of humanity trying try-ing to live today and not looking too far ahead, as younger folk do. The years have taught that we cannot have everything; that some have talent, and nothing else, while others, with no apparent gift of the spirit, have more in a worldly way. An evening up of living, we suppose. By the Autumn time of life, we have lived to the fullness of human existence tasted of both joy and sorrow, and the effect trouble has made on our dispositions and characters char-acters proves whether we have faced obstacles with courage or fear. We have learned to wait patiently, pa-tiently, where in youth time dragged drag-ged on feet of lead. The Autumn of life can be beautiful, beau-tiful, as can the later Winter years be severe and worthwhile. If we have tasted of life to its full depths, for even a little while, we should feel that our existence has been worth all the in-between errors. Lovely to be home at this time of year when the late flowers, asters, and chrysanthemums are blooming. And we saw along many a path to a door in Springville the lovely petunia, in radiant colors, gracing the homes and the lives of those who plant and tend them. We notice the new Bank building build-ing in process of construcion its modern beauty adds a new and pleasing note to Main street. Remember how old-fashioned the other one looked by comparison? While in Springville we visited Evergreen cemetery. What a change there! We remember when one waded in sand shoe-deep there; when there was no water for lawns and flowers and many sand burrs grew all over the place. Today it is second to none in beauty of paved lanes and grassy loveliness. We remarked to a friend that it would not be bad to be there until Gabriel blew his trumpet, and she answered, answer-ed, "No, it wouldn't, if you could just stay on top!" Joking aside, the Evergreen cemetery holds no terrors for anyone any-one now. A hallowed spot, indeed! Lastly, but not leastly, we saw a familiar face at the Orem depot today Al Packard, who has serv- ed as baggage man and station agent there for many years. Always Al-ways the same jolly, pleasant, likeable like-able chap we remember years ago. In friendliness and in richness rich-ness of spirit he has not changed at all. Do You Remember? |