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Show ONCE OVER . . 11 Birfliday Cake Bitter to Cynics I By H. I. PHILLIPS BABY, you "ain't poifect," but you're pretty wonderful. You have much to learn, but you're learning fast. You look bad at times but, after all, you're engaged en-gaged in something more important than a beauty contest. You fumble the ball, bunt when you should slug, forget to touch second sec-ond and try to steal third with the bases full, but the errors are all excusable because you are in the "epic contest," the "world classic," the toughest and most important battle in history. Even on your off days you hold the world's brightest promise. . Five years old! But in yon are the yearnings of 2,000 years, the echo of the Sermon on the Mount, the prayers pray-ers of mothers over their sons down through the centuries. You're a kid In years, but through you the world may find the wisdom of the prophets, the longing of the patriarchs, the sagacity of the wise men and the fortitude of the martyrs. Yes, babe, you're sneered at and belittled by the cynics, but you will- live to make them "eat crow" and to repeat one day the words "You believe because you have seen; blessed are those who believe, yet have not seen." Yu haven't been able to end double talk, give the slicker the works or eliminate the gas man in international huddles, but you are making swell strides in that general direction. You still endure bores and long-winded long-winded diplomats too patiently, proceed pro-ceed too timidly on occasions and take too long to reach decisions now and then, but are entitled to demand, "What do you expect of a five-year-old? Miracles?" Let the critics scoff; you have the prayers of families in every land on earth. The guidance of Providence is asked for you in straw hut, igloo, cave, dugout, trench, shanty, bungalow, tenement, cabin and castle. At your best you lift our spirits, stir our hearts, make our blood tingle and make us want to dance in the streets, sing in the shops and give thanks at the nearest altar. In the moments of snafu you make visible the goal posts and you keep them from being moved all over the lot. You've tagged the tyrants, the dictators, the foul balls, the aggressors ag-gressors and the double-dealers; and labelled them to a fare-thee-well. You're making goose grease, ma-larkey ma-larkey and banana oil scarcer, and over the seats of the international delicatessen dealers you have raised in neon lights, "No matter how you slice it, it is still balony." You've got a long way to go and a lot to do, but you're no front runner. You've got what it takes. Happy birthday, kid! (With simultaneous si-multaneous and consecutive translations.) |