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Show Katlil een Norris Says: Take It ami Like It Bell Syndicate. WNU Featurea. "My father-in-law is a fine old man, but so close that a light left burning or a faucet left running will give him a chance to scold for hours. I use too much soap in the baby's bath ; I leave good gravy and potatoes on my plate." By KATHLEEN NORRIS THE trouble with Helen Johnson is that she won't accept the inevitable. She hates the conditions of her life, and yet she can't seem to find any way of escape. es-cape. So many women are in her position now that it seems worth while to quote her letter. let-ter. "I married at 20, six years ago," writes Helen. "Lewis, my husband, Is two years older; he is now with the army in France, but before the war he made a good living as a contractor con-tractor and builder. He worked with his father, and now that he is away I live, with my two little children, with his father and mother. "Lew was happy that I should coma to them, when he went away, almost a year ago. The lease on our apartment had expired, we could find no other place, and this roomy country bouse seemed Ideal Domestic Domes-tic help simply doesn't exist in this neighborhood. I was worn out when we came here, and expected a rest "Instead, nothing is right My father-in-law is a fine old man. but so close that a light left burning or a faucet left running will give him a chance to scold for hours. I use too much soap in the baby's bath; I leave good gravy and potato on my plate; I think my children have to have fresh clothes every day. What Way Out? "As for my mother-in-law; she works all day, cooking, cleaning, gardening. She adores the children, loves to have them with her, but her attitude toward me is quietly critical Wouldn't I rather buy another an-other bond for Lewis Jr. than buy a dress? What are my plans when Lew comes home? Isn't it better for little people not to talk at all at meals? This means Sonla, for little Lew doesn't talk yet "I drive myself almost crazy all day trying to think of a way out, and lie awake at night planning it. But it seems impossible. Living space is at a premium. It would mean that I get a Job, and what of my children? Here I have no expenses ex-penses whatsoever, my husband's parents even buying the children's clothes and paying doctor's bills. Do you suppose there is a nursery, in the city, where I could put the baby, If I tried to keep Sonia with me?" It is a pity, Helen, that a ministering minis-tering angel can't appear to you, and say to you that your destiny is to remain where you are, and that dire misfortune and evil days will follow upon your being anywhere else. Such a visitation would Impress you, you would awaken from a dream, face facts, settle down Into the life you are living, and find in It not only content and usefulness, but deeper happiness than you have ever known. Your husband is enduring far harder conditions than you are, and be has no way of escape. Millions of other men and women in the world are facing situations that they thought, a few years sgo, utterly Insufferable. Change Would Harm All. No conditions remain Insufferable, the minute we decide to accept them, make the best of them, Improve Im-prove upon them. Your husband's people have made you welcome; they pay your bills; they love your children. That the old man la thrifty is perhaps a good training for you; these aren't the days to waste soap, waste grsvy and potato, waste effort washing and ironing. As for your mother-in-law, she sounds like a fine and useful and generous worn 'She is cuteiy critical , , ," ENDURING CRITICISM Sometimes little nagging annoyances an-noyances loom like grave hardships. hard-ships. It depends a lot on the vietvpoint. Helen, for instance, can scarcely bear her lot. She is a soldier's wife with two small children. They are living liv-ing with his parents in a big country house. The old folks pay all the bills, and do a good deal of the work. Helen has only to take care of herself and the children, and to help a little with the general housework. house-work. But what wean on Helen's nerves is the constant criticism from her parents-in-law. They are thrifty to a fault, hardworking, hard-working, and old fashioned. Her father-in-law raises a fuss about waste lights left burning, burn-ing, soap used in excess, food thrown away and keeps nagging nag-ging for hours. Her mother-in-law makes pointed suggestions sugges-tions about rearing the children, chil-dren, saving money for the future, fu-ture, dressing plainly, and so forth. This is day in and day out. There is nowhere Helen can go, as she is dependent, having no means excepting her government allotment. It would be difficult for her to get a job, or find an apartment. apart-ment. She would have to place the babies in a nursery, too. an, who helps endure the burning anxiety she must feel for her son, in practical hard work. Now just for fun, begin to tell yourself that you would be "unlucky" "un-lucky" if you tried to make a change. That it would be harmful for Lew, Sonla, little Lew and yourself. your-self. This isn't as superstitious or fanciful as it sounds, for I can tell you from my older experience that it would be unlucky; any such course would certainly bring upon you the evil eye the evil eye of doubt, responsibility, discontent, fatigue, bills, anxiety beyond bearing. bear-ing. It would deeply hurt Lew's parents, par-ents, hurt Lew, hurt the children, and perhaps lessen his affection for and confidence in you. Make yourself the angel of the wartime household. Win the older couple with a truly daughterly cooperation co-operation and affection. Turn out lights, turn off faucets, serve yourself your-self to only what food you want; we're all learning lessons In that sort of niceness. And just between ourselves, take the children off for a fortnight In the mountains this summer, and make that little break the time of a break in your whole attitidue. "Who so loseth his life shall find It" is just as true today as It was 2,000 years ago. |