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Show ' My s' ': Dick had just finished grooming The Heap." "f could drive you into San Fran- generously. ciseo," the older P had a nightmare vision of myself and white-glovfurred, fancy-hatte- d, being propelled up Nob Hill in the monstrosity and jarring to a clattering stop in front of the elegant hotel. "Oh, no, you couldn't!" I said crossly, "because I wouldn't go to a dog fight er in that that "Rattletrap" Dick corrected absently, while Bobby . looked wounded. "At any rate," I begged, "please drive carefully." called out a happy" Neither Mother's Day after me, but it seemed to me forgetfulness was only what I ' '. justly deserved. !. boy-offer- ed Finest dermassane ed I Mothers Day trap-rattl- - c FAST RELIEF . from uncomfortable, dry, irritated jskin v a f m. ar (Continued) will be just as good to see you then." But it really wouldn't be, I thought v despondently. "Happy Mother's Day," I said to my husband as he passed me in the hall on his way to work. My voice was bitter. , '"The boys didn't get you a present?" FAST from sore, aching, strained muscles with a v , "Don't," I said bleakly. "I don't want you to remind them or to give them money. Let it go" ,At 11 o'clock, in my Sunday best, I went out our, front door to catch the bus to San Francisco. Bobby and ar - I gave my speech as best I could. my heart wasn't in it It was across the Bay, with the mother who had jriade all this possible. As I trudged back up our hill that evening, I was relieved to see"The Heap" back in place on our lawn. I opened the front door, and there to greet me was my mother! "Mama!" I hugged her joyously. My mother was a tall, stately woman who always carried herself with great dignity. I noticed that she looked just a bit rumpled. He started to put his hand in his pocket. : m But "No." Dermassage massage raw- jof-the- "Mama!" I said again, "what are you doing her el" "It seems," my mother said placidly, iU-aJripurMoth The boys came overhand got me." I.pointedto the lawn. "In thati You 'rode down here in . . ?" "Bobby's car," my mother nodded. "Grandma sat between us," Bobby '. began. "Like a queen" Dickie supplied. "And botoed to every car that passed' us!" Bobby added. "Chee," Dickie chimed in the final accolade, "is Grandma ever a good sport!" "They let me pull the wolf-whistl- e," my conventional mother said, "all the way across the bridge!" Tearfully, I looked at my sons, standing there beaming at my delight I longed to reach out to those big, awkward, grinning boys," put my " arms around them, and give them each a resounding kiss. I caught myself 'in time, remembersturdy and touchy ing the teen-ager- 's dignity. Instead, and true to the code, I thrust out my hand to be shaken. "Thanks. Oh, thanks." And they laughed out loud, while they grabbed me. And they kissed me. "Happy Mother's Day," they yelled in my ear. "Happy Mother's Day!" And it was. The happiest 1 FAST RELIEF from hot, tired, -- 1 aching feet I ;, r FAST RELIEF from pain of sunburn with menthol-colubrication ' I ol ? the years, her shadow-has Through across these columns. I have recounted our chats about The Store: I have exposed her as- a simultaneous painter of canvas and herself, as a secret drummer and, a candidate for king on a platform of no more motorcycles. Sometimes -- 1 - have - received - letters from readers who feel they know her or wonder if she isn't just 1 a little ' peculiar. , AH this enchants her, because she is less peculiar than honest and thor- - USED IN OVER 4,000 HOSPITALS - Offer Get-Acquain- ted Limited Time Only ,Reg. $1.59 Economy Size - J U no fed. tax with FREE DISPENSER . . mm tttmwM "V oughlyrunpredictable-It-is-she-wh- o A laughs hardest at her own escapades. 1, You may have seen her in a grocery store, wearing an apron over her house dress and a petticoat that shows, or , at -- White Sulphur Springs or at the Waldorf in an Oleg Cassini gown.' nkn ttMtCTtC Regular Price of $1.59 kwnL"" Refunded if not ' " LOW . fully satisfied expires May 31. 1960 . . Vl M H lr1 n V 1 , i i . AT LEADING DRUG COUNTERS " v. 'IC J I I J 1 Vi ) ' v - May 'I. 1960 Family Weekly, ' 9 i l , That is, if you're lucky. It was a long time ago, but I have never been able to write seriously about her because I have read top many Saccharine sonnets and also because a .blinding devotion makes it impossible to see her clearly. And how is it possible to write sentimentally of a woman whose hair won't turn properly silver and who talks : to birds as fhough they, were people? How do you communicate what it is which makes her neither 'pretty, nor striking but strangely beautiful? She's --no- Grandma -- Moses wit-h- a paintbrush. She's no Eleanor Roosevelt on the podium. She toils some, sews a poor seam, and does a thousand kindnesses for others which both they and she have long forgotten. She always smells good. There's that. i v 1 And she has dimples because she smiles so much. She is never offended, only hurt, quietly by herself so that no one will be bothered by it. She was born to ;give. Herself .and the blessing of her humble, gentle spirit which forever underestimates its powerful goodness. This is all I can write about this improbable, malapropable, wholly wonderful woman Decause the tears will come to my eyes and then, without even knowing what moves me, to hers also. For she bears all my burdens for me and therefore lightens From her life to mine have, come faith, hope, and love. And thq greatest of these is Bernie. , . , my-hea- My mother. rt- |