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Show WhyMyYouth Was One Great Rehearsal for Television “One shouldn't waste time.| hate wasting time. People immediately sayto this,‘Ah, very Methodist, very Puritan.’ Whicti may be true...’ By David Frost Especially for Family Weekly “The ability my parents had for ha people seems to have rubbed off on People from all walks oflife found wayin and outof our home.| can ac remembera fleeing convict coming to house. Father counseled and advit themall.” : I was born in a small towa in England called Tenterden. My father told me that Hitler marched into Czechoslovakia two hours later—as soon as he got the news! I ™ wasthe third child in the family, and my arrival came as quite a surprise, since my parents were in their late 30s at the time, and mytwosisters had arrived 14 and 16 years earlier. Myfather was a Methodist minister— which meant that we moved from one House ofIsrael” or the “Jezreelites.” Jezreelites were building a vast tower ne our house called Jezreel’s Tower.The pi pose of the tower was based partly onthe belief that you should not cut your ha but should let it grow as long as poss because eventually you would be to heavenbyit. The Jezrcelites were bu small town to another about every seven years. After Tenterden we moved to Kempston,then to Gillingham,andfinally to Raunds in Northamptonshire. I had a wonderfully happy childhood in spite of the moving around and the fact that my father only mace about 10 pounds (about $25) a week. It must have been very difficult for him to provide the bare necessities for us, and also to be the well-dressed leader of the community that he was expected to be. Wedidn’t eat beef bourguignon, but we did have great roast beef and lamb. And wealways ate very plentifully. I'll never really know how hedid it. ‘There were few if any serious disagreements in our household. My parents had such a good marriage and partnership, ing the towerto get as close to heaven possible. But they ran out of money- now the tower is used as a motorcye racing stadium. Rather sad. In addition to never cutting his hal Harris never washed. As my father there didn’t have to be. Since mysisters were well on their way to adulthood, my mother hadplenty of spare time for me. One of myearliest memoriesis of being with my mother at the age of about 18 ‘ months and sitting outside a grocery store in Bedford. She had left mein the pushcart with some packages. I can actually remember being intrigued by a yellow jar at the bottom of the cart. I opened it and just swallowed all I could get down. It was hot mustard, that’s what, and it was horrible. I've never eaten mustard since. Childhood experiences certainly leave their impres- sions! Our house was a vicarage, and so it was the melting pot of the community and provided me with a whole fountain of experiences I shall never forget. It certainly had the effect of stimulating mycuriosity and intensifying my interest in people. 4 The ability my parents had for handling people and eventsso calmly and peacefully seems to have rubbed off on me to some degree. People from all walksoflife—from church members to escaped convicts— found their way in and out of our home. ‘ Family Weekly, September 26, 1971 I can actually remember a fleeing convict comingto the house,as well ax people who had just been released from prison and people who were destitute. Father counseled and advised themall. The most memorable person who ever came to our house was a man wholived across the road. ‘ et’s call him Mr. Harris. Hewas 80yearsold, and he had founded something called the “New and Latter A ReaderWrites Us:“I Think I’m in Love With David Frost!” Would you believe that a conventional being enamoredof David Frost as long as matron with two grown children could flip with unabashed ardor over David Frost? She could . . . and I did! David Frost has charmed me with his genial wit and courtliness. Heis such a joy. I bet he’s not even grouchy when he wakes up in the morning! Whata greatlistener heis! I havedifficulty holding the attention of my dear family whohave heardtoo often about my aches and pains. David would listen and ask sympathetic questions about myarthritis, my rash, my hangnail . . . My amiable husband doesn’t mind my I stay on my side of the TV set. He has in the past indulged my infatuations with Robert Stack, Mike Connors andthe Galloping Gourmet (I maybe fickle, but I havegood taste, huh?), so what’s one more rival? Would I like to meet David Frost? Of course! But not until I get a blonde wig to cover my graying hair, install a newset ofteeth and Iese 39% pounds. Otherwise it wouldn't be fair to David. After all, he should at least have the privilege of meeting the real ne! —Helen DiMerzio Lynch, Quincy, Mass. the nearest holy man to his house, evl year Harris would bring usthe first fru ofhis fig harvest. My parents used to p that the wind would be blowing m rightdirection. Mother wouldsay, you very much”and take tie figs throu our house and out to the garbage in® back, and that was that. It was 4 male ritual I'll neverforget. My father was a superb preacher, he was never a doctrinaire one. with it was much more a case of teaching? example. I remember in Sunday schog hearing a saying to the effect that the om gospel most menwill follow is the gosP according to you.If that’s so, Father 0 tainly practiced what he preached. In of home it was never sermon time bac that m the ranch. Apart from the fact central, parents’ faith was obvious, and 4 wasn't a holy household in the sense being a preachy one; and I was an unhol terror, I'm sure. of co [attended church a great deal, Sunday was sort of full-time chureh. the afternoon there was Sunday s¢ the kids. I will always remember one 0% sion when I was unjustifiablypraised b isiting speaker. He was talking om SW, SW's—‘Saviour of the World, Samaritta and met to Sychar’s Well, SW, (Continued on page |