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Show iBalile Creek I Breeze BY K. B, A nondescript gentlemen in his late fifties strolled into the Empire Room of Hotel Utah the other day. His clothing was of pre-war II vintage; wrinkled, greasy and torn. A week-old gray stubble covered his grimy chin; and his unkept hair reached down below his frayed coat collar. Seating himself at a table, without benefit of the charming hostess, he extracted a dingy newspaper from his pocket. Unfolding Un-folding the same he produced a bread and butter sandwich; which he proceeded to consume with evident relish. Approaching his table the com-ly com-ly waitress, in her most courteous manner .said, "Is there anything more you would like, sir?" "Yes," said he, with a glance at the vacant orchestra stand, "What the hl's the matter with the music?" ! Americans, accustomed as we are to luxuries, right, and privileges that are enjoyed by no other people; have a habit of taking things much for granted. j Our liberties, our freedoms, our entire way of life were given to us by the toil and sacrifices of those who have gone on before. These benefits did not come easily; nothing that is worth while comes easily. It is only when we fear we might lose some of these priceless heritages, that we give them any serious thought. One needs only to glance" through the daily papers, pap-ers, to see how individuals, groups, and factions raise a thunderous furore whenever their pet activities activit-ies are curtailed in the slightest degree. Yes, we are willing to sacrifice; willing that is, so long as the burden is borne by someone else. Of course, we believe in liberty; if others are willing to do the fighting. It is only when we have, personally to give up something some-thing that we have always enjoyed, enjoy-ed, that we are inclined to exclaim, ex-claim, "What the hl's the matter with the music?" So-long 'til Friday. |