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Show KATHLEEN NORRIS Some Husbands Like Dreary Jobs a few months ago he cut out a picture of a whaling boat being tossed about in the ocean, and it makes my heart ache for him. It isn't fair that a man should be tied down by a dependent wife and four husky kids, when, at heart, he's a boy longing for adventure." It doesn't seem to me this is a problem at all, Linda. Martin is doing what millions of men have to do. Reporting at the office, putting put-ting in eight hours with time out for lunch, on rather drab and routine work. If Martin In his heart didn't like this work, didn't find it satisfying, believe me he would have worked his way out of it long ago, and into something that gave his energy and imagination more scope. The truth is that he is a quiet, unimaginative, fine man, who quite possibly likes his work. Many a man would infinitely prefer selling sell-ing other men their overcoats, recommending rec-ommending the cheviot,, discussing the tweed, than handling four lively children for 14 hours out of the 24. You are born with a joyous, courageous, generous nature. It speaks through every word of your letter. Most women want to take; you are that rare woman who wants to give. If Martin works hard eight hours a day; you work twice as hard nearly twice as long. Go on your glorious way, Linda, and don't worry about Martin. As long a3 you all love him, and his dinner is good and hot, he'll be all right. "TSN'T LIFE HARD enough and confusing enough, without having hav-ing to do the work you hate?" asks Linda Curtis, from Albany. "My life is full of excitement and interest," she goes on, ."and I see to it that our four children have a wonderful time. But my husband, patient and good and everything that is satisfactory, satis-factory, plods along day after day, and year after year in the dullest imaginable business selling men's suits. "You see, we've always been poor, hardworking people, and if Martin ever had any dreams of starting out for himself and breaking break-ing away from the rut he is in, he's never been free to realize them. "The children are mixed twins of 7, girl 5, baby 3, and they keep me busy and happy and laughing and scolding all day long. My life has variety enough in it, and I try to share that variety with Mart on week ends and during his brief summer vacations. We have eight weeks in a mountain cabin; he has two. Same Old Round "We're always picnicking and having weeny roasts and treasure hunts; his life is the same old round. Office at 9, stock arranging, doors open at 10, fussy men and fussy women criticizing, lunch sandwich sand-wich at the drugstore next door, four more hours of it, and home on a crowded bus. "Every day with him is the same. Every hour with me is different. The twins hang over me dictating what they want packed for lunch; Madeleine leaves me with a big hug at the nursery school door, Butchy-butch and I do the marketing, market-ing, and stop to gossip, and leave ''1. -s-fe M. . . wub a btg bug . . my watch to be mended and pick up my made-over hat, and go home , for lunch and naps, and quiet mending at my dining-room window until the scholars come shouting and weeping home at 3. Then we all have tea, and perhaps go over to the park for another hour of games and gossip, and it is all so interesting. But Mart comes quietly quiet-ly in during the supper scramble and takes his paper and turns on his radio, and looks on at our riots. "I try," the letter goes on, "to bring him into everything. I suggest sug-gest he take Butchy-butch upstairs, or carry the twins off for a country Sunday if I am kept home by one of Madeleine's bad times with her ears, but he seems too tired way deep down in, too tired to rouse himself to much interest in it. He'll ask me what beach shall I take them to? What'll I do when we get there? Make His Life Fun "Can you suggest," finishes this generous-hearted wife, "some way in which I can shake the best man in the world out of his groove, and make life as much fun for him as for me? The children I can always handle; they are obedient helpful angels, all four, and are all promising promis-ing to take jobs someday and help Mother and Dad and I believe they will. But Mart is 44 now; he is 11 years older than I am, and if he goes plugging on much longer he'll be too old to make a dash anywhere. any-where. "Should we pull up and go to South America and take a chance? Would you advise my taking a job. (I'm almost a professional photographer) photog-rapher) and sending him away? The other night he was reading me an article on the South Seas, and |