And now Floppit was dead. . . . A month ago when Daddy had said, “We’ll have to kill the kitten Joe gave you, dear. He can’t eat yet," the child had taken him in her arms and fed him with a spoon. She had prepared a tiny bed for him in a box, and every night she saw that Floppit was snug before... Show moreAnd now Floppit was dead. . . . A month ago when Daddy had said, “We’ll have to kill the kitten Joe gave you, dear. He can’t eat yet," the child had taken him in her arms and fed him with a spoon. She had prepared a tiny bed for him in a box, and every night she saw that Floppit was snug before she slept. It was she who playfully named him Floppit. He had become a play- mate and a friend for the lonely child. Tenderly she cared for him, and joyfully they played together. The parents marvelled, and rejoiced to see the child so happy. Then came the day when she complained, “Mother, Flop- pit doesn’t want to play with me.” And she noticed re- proachfully that his lovely white coat grew matted and dirty, and Floppit cared not at all. Tearfully she begged, in vain, to eat. When mother said gently, “You must not handle Floppit, dear. He’s sick, you see,” her soft brown eyes filled slowly, and her lips quivered, but she said nothing. She knew. After that she never touched him when they were near, but when she was alone with him she held his little form close and whispered passionate words of comfort and love. At night she said her usual prayer and added, “And God, please make Floppit be well tomorrow.” But tomorrow found Floppit more haggard. Finally, unable to raise his head he lay still. The child’s plead- ing he answered With a dull look. At sundown he was dead. 22 ___THE DIAL Show less
Slowly you turned, the song ending . . . And the breezes inspired come near, Softly and gently pretending At playing with your moon crowned hair; And now when the dew is glistening And the stars overhead dance slow; And the wind sighs gently . . . I’m listening To your voice in my dreams sing low... Show moreSlowly you turned, the song ending . . . And the breezes inspired come near, Softly and gently pretending At playing with your moon crowned hair; And now when the dew is glistening And the stars overhead dance slow; And the wind sighs gently . . . I’m listening To your voice in my dreams sing low. LE ROY ELSTER, ’39. skit? God gives, man takes, and returns what He doesn’t want for Himself. MARION LUND, ’39. *xi‘ri’): Tribute to Father Old, gnarled? Perhaps—yet the years have been kind to you. They have softened that rough exterior and pol- ished to a burnished gold that heart of yours. You still say time has been harsh? Well—your fingers are knotted and your limbs are stiff, your hearing isn’t as it used to be, and you do wear spectacles, but I still insist—- You are being shaped for a statue whose memory shall stand in Eternity. , The marble has been tough, but the more the beauty of the finished product. The sands of time have continually chiseled away until the specimen is nearing completion. This frame may be forgotten by all save one, two, or pos- sibly three, but your spirit shall live on forever. INEZ HINRICHS, ’40. THE DIAL_____ 21 Show less
20 ZheSongoFCadcu-e Once when the great moon was gleaming And the breezes murmured so low; Through the trees a star was peeping Like a rogue winking its eye slow; And the fragrant summer flowers Like incense was scenting the air; Till stopped was time and its hours Bewitched by your song of Cada... Show more20 ZheSongoFCadcu-e Once when the great moon was gleaming And the breezes murmured so low; Through the trees a star was peeping Like a rogue winking its eye slow; And the fragrant summer flowers Like incense was scenting the air; Till stopped was time and its hours Bewitched by your song of Cada-re. Softly you sang of the evening, 0f flowers, the birds, and the trees; Till hushed was the night by your singing, And still was the murmuring breeze. Ah, what a picture you made there . . . Your face turned into the night; A goddess you were with your dark hair Aflame by the silvery light. Like songs of brooks in the forest That tumble and leap to the sea, Wildly singing of their conquests . . . Your song, like their music, was free; Like winds that blow a wild tempest Your song was of things that men fear; Filling with unrest and conquest Till moved by your song to a tear. Then . . . suddenly . . . like oceans in motion . . . Your voice was like waves on a shore, Telling of strife and commotion, That have been but can be no more; Its message like fires of sunsets Was setting my soul all aflame, And naught but your voice could quench it . . . Or my thoughts all aflight reclaim. ___THE DIAL Show less
close the melodies of the day. In reality the symphony plays on ceaselessly with quiet interludes, but to mortals the hum ends with sleep. This morning the Minneapolis City Symphony began, as far as I know and am concerned, with two sharp, and sud- den knocks on our door. The tripping upstairs... Show moreclose the melodies of the day. In reality the symphony plays on ceaselessly with quiet interludes, but to mortals the hum ends with sleep. This morning the Minneapolis City Symphony began, as far as I know and am concerned, with two sharp, and sud- den knocks on our door. The tripping upstairs and rush- ing about in preparation for the early outdoor breakfast complicated the melody. The running of water, the rub- bing and stomping of clothes in the wash tubs, the ringing of the telephone, the practising of voice and piano in the music room and parlor, served as my prelude of the city’s symphony of sounds, and continued as I proceeded along Seventh Street and Cedar Avenue to Brodahl’s, where the clanging of metal ware and clatter of dishes, orders given in different tones, and waitresses calling out the orders, joined with all the outdoor sounds of birds, street cars, noisy cars and quiet motors. The evening postlude was most enjoyable, for we went down to Minnehaha Park where we strolled leisurely through the tall avenues of trees, over stones and puddles, on over a bridge to the Mis- sissippi. Gentle raindrops fell upon the trees and were shaken from the leaves with a subdued swishing sound down upon us; little streams of water trickled down here and there, and in the distance came the lone call of a bird. Thus the oncoming night seemed to soothe and play beauti- fully the music which eased my longings and quieted my fears. SYNNOVE STENBERG, ’41. SWWSW Jesus mark my path for me, Step by step make Thy will clear, Point the way that I may see H ea‘ven’s way and there draw near. Lord wilt Thou to me reveal What Thou would’st have me to be, Fill my heart with Thy true zeal, Let me follow only Thee. FERN O. HANSON, ’41. THE DIA L_____ 19 Show less
The City’s Symphony The raucous sounds of the city create a harmony all their own. The hum of industry proceeds from the mills, fac- tories, newspaper plants, foundries, and other business establishments. The variant noises, for such they are when analyzed separately, combine to make up a... Show moreThe City’s Symphony The raucous sounds of the city create a harmony all their own. The hum of industry proceeds from the mills, fac- tories, newspaper plants, foundries, and other business establishments. The variant noises, for such they are when analyzed separately, combine to make up a symphonic whole. In this orchestra of life are such instruments as auto- mobiles, street cars, lawn mowers, trains, vacuum cleaners, hammers, laughing children, ticking clocks, bells, and springs. What a composition of heterogeneous elements. Paradoxical as it may seem, out of this confusing mass of teeming life wells forth a music pleasant to the car. As one can enjoy and appreciate more the music as it reaches one from a distance, it is always more impressive to listen to it from a quiet retreat rather than from a spot in the midst of the medley of sounds. The opening notes and themes may vary, but the general impressions remain similar. Usually the warbling, chirp- ing, and singing of the early morning birds strike up the introduction in a major key. Gradually as life awakens, the sounds increase. Usually the faithful alarm clock rings out the opening notes of the day for me, and the tempo re- mains quite constant throughout. One day is like one number, and in each composition pre- sents three outstanding movements. If it opens with an animated tempo, it is generally impassioned and brilliant, progressing with diverse modulations. This first move- ment pictures the morning with its freshness, brightness, and vivacity. The second movement develops as we ap- proach the tumult and rush of the noon hour. Following that, the recapitulation of the evening which sums up the whole, completes the number. The coda of twilight brings the soft, sweet, tranquil strains of duties ended and of happy, though brief, leisure time begun, which brings to a 18 ___THE DIAL Show less
The flowers blooming in valleys green Reveal the beauty of life unseen; The smallest bud that burst between Bright leaves are signs of God. We cannot see the diamond-stone, Where crystalline it lies alone; But deep down in that hidden zone It is a sign of God. The soul, that fills the body’s frame... Show moreThe flowers blooming in valleys green Reveal the beauty of life unseen; The smallest bud that burst between Bright leaves are signs of God. We cannot see the diamond-stone, Where crystalline it lies alone; But deep down in that hidden zone It is a sign of God. The soul, that fills the body’s frame, And looks beyond with conscious flame, Beholds with joy from whence they came, These myriad signs of God. P. A. SVEEGGEN. THE DIAL_____s 17 Show less
to learn how to live is an education in itself. Even though we remember but a few concrete facts from a complete four-year course, yet we shall be educated if we have learned to use our time to the best advantage. What we do with our leisure time is a great fundamental problem of life. Man is in... Show moreto learn how to live is an education in itself. Even though we remember but a few concrete facts from a complete four-year course, yet we shall be educated if we have learned to use our time to the best advantage. What we do with our leisure time is a great fundamental problem of life. Man is in such a hurry when going through life that he often overlooks the vital issues before him, and foolishly spends his time and his life on that which is not only useless but even harmful. Man is in a great hurry. but does he know where he is going and what he will do when he gets there? I think not. There is a very com- mon illustration of that in everyday life. The family gets together on Sunday and father drives about a hundred miles for the picnic dinner. Father wonders if the car is still as lively as it was four years ago. He races with past records for the entire distance, trying to outdo last year’s sensational record of three hours, fourteen minutes, and eight seconds. But unfortunately he has a sneezing spell and loses one minute and eighteen seconds during the volcanic eruptions. What does father do after his noble work, even though in vain, has been completed? He goes to sleep un- der a tree and dreams of passing all the new cars on the way home. There is no denying the fact that man is in a hurry and is getting nowhere fast. What is the result of the fast-keyed life of today? Man is becoming ever more efficient and always more insufficient. After all, what does he do with the extra minute or two he saves through his planning and great efforts? Man spends several minutes’ time trying to find how he can save a single minute; when he does get his minute, he forgets to use it. I think it is unfortunate that so many lose the real mean- ing of life in their search for the trivial. An education’s foremost work should be to help adjust individuals to so- ciety and to the natural world about them. True education is not an end in itself, it is rather only the tool in the hands of the wise that brings them back to nature, and therefore to God- MARION LUND, ’39. 16 ___THE DIAL Show less
Of Education I believe that education is the process by which one learns to live effectively and harmoniously with one’s fellow be- ings. True education is not learning the chemical formula for sulphuric acid, the relative importance of Milton, and the functions of an obtuse triangle. These... Show moreOf Education I believe that education is the process by which one learns to live effectively and harmoniously with one’s fellow be- ings. True education is not learning the chemical formula for sulphuric acid, the relative importance of Milton, and the functions of an obtuse triangle. These things are valu- able only if through them we are able to live a life that is of some value to others. Learning how to live is really of far greater fundamental importance. If we do not give others a share in that which we have learned, We might just as well have stayed ignorant. What value is that knowledge which we acquire and then store back in our brain cells some place where it has not an op- portunity to enrich and to ennoble life? If we discover something beautiful and then show it to others, not only will they benefit from it, but we ourselves will gain a bless- ing. What use would some of Edison’s ideas have been, for instance, if he had not shared them with the world? Our ideas may not be so great that they will revolutionize the world, but they will in all probability benefit ourselves and others if we express them. A golden rule policy may be applied in the field of knowl- edge as well as in other phases of life. It is more blessed to give than to receive. It is a wonderful experience to learn, but it seems more wonderful yet to be able to share with others something that we have acquired along life’s highway. I believe that we even receive more out of open- ing some one’s eyes to a particular beauty of nature, for in- stance, than that person himself gets out of the new revela- tion of life. There is a certain undeniable joy and satis- faction in the assurance that we have aided some one in his search for life. Why do we go to college? Probably all would answer unanimously, “To get an education.” What then is an edu- cation, and are we accomplishing our purpose? Certainly THE DIAL__—_ 15 Show less
tied about Granpappy. He weren’t nohow happy which he should have been with that masterpiece 0' his. It weren't till a couple 0’ days later he had the courage ta tell me, in fact it was when I was a goin’ ta give him the plug 0’ to- bacco, that he told me what was eatin’ him. He just sat that in... Show moretied about Granpappy. He weren’t nohow happy which he should have been with that masterpiece 0' his. It weren't till a couple 0’ days later he had the courage ta tell me, in fact it was when I was a goin’ ta give him the plug 0’ to- bacco, that he told me what was eatin’ him. He just sat that in his chair, his chin on his chest, and then he looks at me sad like an’ says, ‘ “Catfish” you know! I can’t take that plug 0’ yours. It ain’t fair, cause I got my direction all mistaken and hit the wrong eye.’ Yup, it was a tragedy . . . but it were right comical, too.” LE ROY ELSTER, ’39. 7mm Noiselessly within the heart of me God’s fingers move; he is creating there His Holy Kingdom; t'is with finest care He takes His first creation’s majesty And builds a conscious life of charity. For out of time with fear and deep despair He still createth, and, with peace will dare To build a sunset o'er a wavering sea. How could it be that this eternal God Completes each new creation well, and looks But one brief moment at the work so done, Then hides us in the earth as one by one An author files away his finished books, Forgetting us forever ’neath the sod? MARGARET CHRISLOCK, ’40. Reminiscence The humid air; the constant drone of the listless bee; the whirring of the farmhand’s mower; an occasional bleat of a lamb who wandered too far from its mother; the gentle whispering of the leaves, eagerly spreading the news the south wind brought them; a rumble of thunder in the dis- tance predicting soothing rain to freshen the tired earth.— Things such as these inspire the poet, yet seem so common- place to ordinary man. INEZ HINRICHS, ’40. 14 ___THE DIAL Show less
Jim didn’t have a lick 0’ chance an’ went down like a dead log . . . an’ didn’t move none. The Sheriff seen the whole thing an’ come arunnin’ over, an’ seein’ the big hole in Jim’s head an’ him not breathin’ much, he grabs a hold 0’ Jim and tells him he’s under arrest for murder. George looks at... Show moreJim didn’t have a lick 0’ chance an’ went down like a dead log . . . an’ didn’t move none. The Sheriff seen the whole thing an’ come arunnin’ over, an’ seein’ the big hole in Jim’s head an’ him not breathin’ much, he grabs a hold 0’ Jim and tells him he’s under arrest for murder. George looks at the sheriff sort 0’ funny like, an’ just raises his am like a boom and tosses the sheriff out inta the street. Afor the sheriff could get hisself up George was atearin’ down the street toward whar Granpappy an’ me was a sit- tin'. The whole thing happened so quick I hardly knowed what was up, but Granpapy leans over an’ he says, ‘ “Cat- fish” what you all a bettin’ I can hit him in the right eye?’ I was takin’ plum backward, but I knowed what he was up ta . . . an’ I knowed too he’d do it. But I was hopin’ he’d put a little more juice ta the cud and give a little more push for me, so I bets him a twist 0’ that black tobacco they sells for tencents. I told Granpappy that, an’ he says, ‘Right . . . and I’ll eat my last weeks socks if I miss !’ “Well, thar was George a comin’ down the walk like the old man hisself was ahangin’ on his coat tail, an’ the sheriff right behind, but makin’ no headway, cause he was gettin’ ta fat. But Granpappy didn’t seem riled atall, ’cept he was chewin somethin’ terrible and I knowed it was a wad ’nough to choke the Mississippi that he was a workin’ on“ I was a watchin’ Granpappy, then I knowed what was comin’, cause Granpappy just leaned back slow like an’ cocked one eye. He worked that cud close ta his lips and waited, an’ J umpin’ eel pie! that was the biggest wad o’ tobacco I ever did see that arched out in the breeze and winged George’s eye just like a long Cotton Mouth struckin’ out o’ a bush. Never in all my born days did I see a man act up like George did, cause that stuff Granpapy chews wern’t no licorice. George just opened his mouth and howls like my hound does when he sees the moon, clawin’ at his eye like he was goin’ ta pull it out. It didn’t take the sheriff long to snap his cuffs on George, but it weren’t necessary, cause George was right tamed sort 0’ fella now. “Best part ‘0’ the thin’, it turned out Jim weren’t dead no how . . . just got hisself stunned a bit . . . but I was wor- THE DIAL_____ 13 Show less
house at the end 0’ town, and George sure like her some- thin’ awful, but she were sharin’ them feelin’s none with him though, an’ right out told him so. Course George didn’t like it none, cause that weren’t the way he was used ta bein’ treated. No, sar, he didn’t like it a tall, an’ I was feelin... Show morehouse at the end 0’ town, and George sure like her some- thin’ awful, but she were sharin’ them feelin’s none with him though, an’ right out told him so. Course George didn’t like it none, cause that weren’t the way he was used ta bein’ treated. No, sar, he didn’t like it a tall, an’ I was feelin’ like Loleta was, an’ she had a right good reason, which were this Jim fella I told ya about. Jim Higgins was his whole name, and they was figurin’ on gettin' mar- ried ’long in the fall. But George he didn’t care nothin’ for that, he just kept right on a courtin’ Loleta, till one day Jim up an’ told him he was trespassin’ on ground out of his own jurisdiction when he was payin’ court ta Loleta. That riled George up somethin’ terrible, and he tried ta splatter Jim across the street with them big fists 0’ his . . . ’cept he weren’t quick enough. “But George weren’t the forgettin’ kind, and he swore up and down he were goin' ta get Jim, so that was how Granpappy an’ me knowed who he was lookin’ for. I couldn’t help remarkin’ ta Granpappy that I felt sort 0’ sorry for George, cause I guess he liked Loleta somethin’ terrible, which I an’t a blamin’ him none. She sure was a right pretty gal. You know them dark eyes what makes your knees feel all watery when they looks at you. She had pretty brown hair too, most pretty hair I ever saw . . . but them eyes 0’ hers, ummm. I remember a gal like her once. I thought she were the prettiest gal on the river, dark eyes that make you feel all funny like when she tilted her head ever so little and looked at you. Yup! she were pretty. But gettin’ back ta the story. “Anyhow, George was lookin’ around for Jim . . . course he didn’t know what Granpappy an’ me knowed. We knowed Jim was up the river a piece dealin’ with Sam about that boat 0’ his. Least wise Jim was supposed ta be up thar . . . but shootin’ snake slivers if Jim didn’t come bustin’ around the corner right in sight 0’ George. Course George spied him right off an’ took after him like a bellerin’ bull, mad with the heat, an’ smashed him down afor we could holler at him. It was wicked the way George come at him . just like a freight train pilin’ inta wagon o’ straw. Poor 12 “THE DIAL Show less
bit hole under a dewberry bush. But a gettin’ back ta the story. Like I said, George was right handsome . . . and a ladies’ man, remember that. Course there was no gettin’ round the fact he was a man’s man too. Thar weren’t no- body ’round har what could take him in the knuckle game. He was tops... Show morebit hole under a dewberry bush. But a gettin’ back ta the story. Like I said, George was right handsome . . . and a ladies’ man, remember that. Course there was no gettin’ round the fact he was a man’s man too. Thar weren’t no- body ’round har what could take him in the knuckle game. He was tops at that. The boys down at the old Settlement sure respected George, but I ain’t sayin’ they like him none. No sar! his habits were against him . . . a habit o hittin’ first and apologizing latter, when he got around ta it. His fist felt like quarry rocks when they plopped my nose out . . . that’s what makes me look not so good. All I can say is that George was built most like the front end 0 a steam boat. But like I says, he sure was a man’s man, too. “Well, one day Hank and George come ta town an’ like as usual Hank takes off for the tavern and get hisself loopy, while George loafed ’round the streets . . . you know, like as if he was lookin’ for somebody. Course I knowed who it was he Were lookin’ for. Anyhow, ’bout noon George was gettin’ sort 0’ impatient, and makes off for the tavern. Granpappy an’ me was sittin’ in front 0’ the general store a watchin’ him, an’ as George come by Granpappy’s foot sort 0’ stuck out in George’s way, and George splayed his- self out on the plankin’. I ain’t a saying Granpappy knowed it was out thar, but it riled George some, an’ for a moment it looked like as if Granpappy was a goin’ ta get a boot in the face. But Granpappy was lookin’ so innocent like . . course maybe the sheriff over across the street had some- thin’ ta do with it . . . that George just cussed a bit and took off. I could see that George was sure enough burnin’ up about somethin’, and the way he went through them doors 0’ the tavern, he weren’t fit company for a bobtail. But George didn’t stay in thar long . . . guess the somethin’ was bother- in’ him ta much. Like I says I knowed who it was George was a lookin’ for, an’ Granpappy knowed it too. It was this young Jim fella what was goin’ with this Loleta gal. “I guess I told ya George was a ladies’ man, well, any— how, he got along fine with them . . . that is all ’cept this Loleta gal I mentioned. She was livin’ in the little white THE DIAL 11 Show less
roundings. “And what was that tragic miss?" he asked interested. “ "fivern’t a tragic miss, but the afiair was tragic," he answered as he eyed Lory from under his battered straw hat. “I’m listening,” Lory prompted. “Catfish” sighed, and shook himself straight in his chair. Knocking the ashes from... Show moreroundings. “And what was that tragic miss?" he asked interested. “ "fivern’t a tragic miss, but the afiair was tragic," he answered as he eyed Lory from under his battered straw hat. “I’m listening,” Lory prompted. “Catfish” sighed, and shook himself straight in his chair. Knocking the ashes from his pipe he refilled, and puffed slowly in quiet till a huge bank of smoke half obscured him. He sat leaning forward as though thinking out the details, and then leaned back comfortably and began. “Yup! Grandpappy sure ’nough missed once, and like I said, it was tragic, but right comical too. But mind ya, it’s the only miss I knows of. It was a few years back, about the time the Steamer Jackson got itself hung up out on the towhead there in the river. We had a sheriff, a right re- spectable sort 0 fella about that time, and he used ta live in that big white house you passed up the levee a piece the other day. It used ta belong ta old Colonel Wright, who won it from Colonel Shaffer in a game 0 stud poker in back 0 ‘Muskrat’s’- place at the end 0 the street. Seems like as if he won it from Colonel Taylor in a hoss race, and it plum near busted the old Colonel ta see that hoss 0’ his lose. Just whar he got it I can’t say, cause that was afore our time. Well, like I says, the Sheriff was livin’ thar in that house about that time. “Then thar was Hank, a big fella who was biggern you, cause you ain’t so very big. He was a trapper from back in the bayue, and he’d come ta town once in a while an’ get his self tolerably drunk, and the sheriff’d have ta store him away for a couple a days. Course he an’t got nothin’ ta do with Granpapy missin’, ’cept he was George’s partner, an he’s the fella I’m getting ta. George, he was big, too . . . biggern Hank even, but a right handsome sort 0 fella. He was what ya’d call a ladies’ man. Yup! he sure was hand- some all right, more so than Hank. Course Hank weren’t so handsome, not specially since he got them two front teeth 0’ his ajar’d loose in the settlement fight. It sure was right funny ta see him grin . . . sort 0 reminds me o a rab- 10 —THE DIAL Show less
and listening to the sounds of the night. Soft and low the dark whispering waters of the lonely river murmured to the darkness, keeping time to the gentle creaking of the long looping vines swaying back in the bayue . . . all this was music to the old man’s ears as he sat like the others, swaying... Show moreand listening to the sounds of the night. Soft and low the dark whispering waters of the lonely river murmured to the darkness, keeping time to the gentle creaking of the long looping vines swaying back in the bayue . . . all this was music to the old man’s ears as he sat like the others, swaying in his old rocker, his feet propped carelessly on the railing. Occasionally he paused in his movements, leaned back a little and spit a streamer of tobacco juice into the river. If one were to watch him closely for a time, one would come to the conclusion that he was aiming at his big toe, for he would bend it ever so little to let the rifle-like barrage of fluid glide by. Just why he was called Granpappy, no one seemed to know. True he was an old man, but spry,—-that is when he so chose. Otherwise he was no different from the rest of the Shanty folks, easy going, except there was no one who could spit like he could. It was Grandpapy’s boast that he could outspit any man from one end of the river to the other, both for accuracy and distance, and drive a tenpenny nail for good measure. Perhaps he was right in his claim, for there were times when he would sit all day in the shade of his shanty with his eyes half closed as if dreaming, but if a bluebottle fly lit on the plank within ten feet of him, Granpappy would lazily open an eye and take aim. From his puckered lips would squirt a thin streamer of tobacco drowning the poor unsuspecting fly. It was this tobacco spitting ability of Granpappy’s that was the subject of talk between “Catfish” Jones and the city stranger sitting on “Catfish’s” porch. The stranger went by the name of Lory . . . down for his health as he put it, and had been rather amused at the uncanny accuracy Granpappy displayed. “Does the old man over there ever miss and splatter his foot?” Lory had asked. “Catfish” rubbed his whiskers with the back of his hand and grinned slowly. “Well, can’t say as if I knowed of him a missin’ his aim on his toe, but he sure enough did miss once. A right tragic affair it was.” Lory sensed the story he hoped would come, for he felt there must be a story somewhere in these romantic sur- THE DIAL______. 9 Show less
v-vw Granpappy A ‘Eale of the £ower (River If one didn’t know better, one would certainly believe that the huge yellow moon was going to set itself in the middle of the lazy river. But knowing better did not re- move any of the romantic powers it possessed. In fact, all of the Shanty folks were... Show morev-vw Granpappy A ‘Eale of the £ower (River If one didn’t know better, one would certainly believe that the huge yellow moon was going to set itself in the middle of the lazy river. But knowing better did not re- move any of the romantic powers it possessed. In fact, all of the Shanty folks were out on their floating porches en- joying the quiet and cool of the beautiful summer evening. It was the mysterious quiet, and the magnolia scented cool- ness that can be found only along the Southern bends of the South Mississippi. With the Shanties tied up close un- der the flowering Cottonwoods, the River Folks could hear the giant bull frogs booming loudly back in the bayue, and the sound of the sleepy breezes stirring among the willows, and they thought this was the most glorious night they’d ever seen. Now and then the low ripple of laughter would mark the progress of some courtship, or the low murmur of voices, and twanging rattle of a Banjo drifted from floating struc- tures told of the peace with which these people lived. Every- one was out sitting. The women sat and knitted as they talked of the latest gossip that came up from New Orleans or Natchez. The men were sitting too, smoking or chew- ing, but mainly doing both, . . . nodding their heads now and then to affirm a wife’s or sweetheart’s statement. Up at the head of the row lay Granpappy’s shanty. Like Old Man River himself he sat out on the porch chewing, 8 ____THE DIAL Show less
7chdu Awake at night with restless head Pillowed deep in my sleepless bed, With visions that the moonlight brings I wonder on the strangest things. I wonder what the front door thinks of its squeeky hinges? the door bell thinks of the fingers that press it? the flowers think as they bend in the... Show more7chdu Awake at night with restless head Pillowed deep in my sleepless bed, With visions that the moonlight brings I wonder on the strangest things. I wonder what the front door thinks of its squeeky hinges? the door bell thinks of the fingers that press it? the flowers think as they bend in the breeze? the porch swing thinks of the young lady’s boy friend? I wonder what the microbes see in their sphere of life? the angleworm sees as it bores in the earth? the car wheels see in a hot dusty road? falling stars see as they shoot through the sky? I wonder what the rain drops say as they fall on the roof? the west wind says when it howls through the trees the pigeons say when they coo to each other? the angry fly says when stuck to fly-paper? I wonder what the artist would do without his paints? the sculptor would do without his chisel? the piano would do without its keys? Uncle Tom would do without little Eva? I wonder why it is so light, For surely it must still be night; But no, I see the sun is up— I wonder why I don’t get up? OLAF G. JOHNSON, ’39. THE DIAL____ 7 Show less
Conversation began to lag, the food was cold, and Grand- pappy was getting impatient to feed his two cats—it was time for Granny to begin her dinner. Grandpappy went over to the calendar and remarked knowingly, “Yah, it’s a good thing you brought them ‘vittles’ today; it says blustery for... Show moreConversation began to lag, the food was cold, and Grand- pappy was getting impatient to feed his two cats—it was time for Granny to begin her dinner. Grandpappy went over to the calendar and remarked knowingly, “Yah, it’s a good thing you brought them ‘vittles’ today; it says blustery for tomorrow and it don’t look any too good out now.” This was a gentle hint that we start for home in our modern contrivance or we might not make the unfathomable distance of ten miles before the storm came. The old clock was beckoning for us to go even if it was a half-hour slow; Grandpappy no doubt set it by the town siren which he could no longer hear. The sun, too, was sinking in the west, giving promise of a beautiful day on the morrow, so with a lump in our throats we bid them good-bye—our own dear Grandpappy and Granny. MARGIE ENEMARK, ’39. This morning I looked from my window, On a world that was radiantly bright; For the sun had arisen, smiling, And it beamed on my face with delight. By noon, I had almost forgotten That the day had started so fair; For my heart was heavy with burdens, And the darkening clouds filled the air. Tonight, as I glance out the window, My thoughts filled with cares of the day, Lo! a star meets my gaze with a twinkle, And my worries are lifted away. MILDRED OUDAL, ’40. THE DIAL Show less
Augustine,” and was hopping about with the teakettle in one hand and the stove poker in the other until Grand- pappy told her to stop. Then she trotted off to the guest parlor to bring out some ice-cold chairs for us to sit on. All at once she remembered it was time for dinner and began lamenting... Show moreAugustine,” and was hopping about with the teakettle in one hand and the stove poker in the other until Grand- pappy told her to stop. Then she trotted off to the guest parlor to bring out some ice-cold chairs for us to sit on. All at once she remembered it was time for dinner and began lamenting the fact that she had only nine potatoes on boiling. She and Grandpappy had had chicken for Sun- day dinner and all through the week, but unfortunately it was all gone now. Then the old black cookstove wouldn’t heat, and when she was going to fire in more fuel, Grand- pappy remonstrated, “No, no, then I only have to go and haul more coal.” Next the table leaves had to be carried down from some remote convenient place, and Granny’s best tablecloth brought out; this called for an historical account on her part. While there was much mathematical computation as to how old it was, the nine potatoes happily boiled away on the stove until they had lost all signs of any individuality. After much bustling about, dinner was ready and all was peaceful until after the blessing had been asked, when up bobbed Granny—she never could sit still and eat when she had company. The nine potatoes had no more been passed than she started them off on another merry chase around the table. “My goodness, ‘mine kind,’ you must eat some- thing,” she would keep on saying even after the third help- mg. Finally she sat down as if to at last begin eating; but no—she began an expostulation on how she had caught cold in her neck while hanging up clothes on washday, and how Grandpappy had lost his hearing in the same enter- prise. He not being able to hear naturally couldn’t dispute her word, but could very nicely carry on his owu conversa— tion at the same time. He was complaining about his twelve hens who never sat on the nest to lay eggs, but to keep their feet warm. Granny, immediately rising to the de- fense of the hens, bobbed up again to bring in a small bas- ketful of eggs from the pantry. Grandpappy vowed she had either been saving them up on the sly or had borrowed some from the neighbors. THE DIAL 5 Show less
Grandpdppy and Granny “Come and bring us some ‘vittles’ it’s going to storm," came the plaintive plea on a penny post card one bright sunshiny winter day. The threat of the coming storm was traditional, but nevertheless it expected action on our part; and in no time the car fairly “protruberant”... Show moreGrandpdppy and Granny “Come and bring us some ‘vittles’ it’s going to storm," came the plaintive plea on a penny post card one bright sunshiny winter day. The threat of the coming storm was traditional, but nevertheless it expected action on our part; and in no time the car fairly “protruberant” with the so- called “vittles” was carrying us along to Grandpappy’s “slothful” farm. The car had no sooner stopped when out came Grand- pappy beaming at seeing not only us, but also the “follow- up-work” of his penny post card. He was quite a sturdy Danish fellow, who despite his eighty-four years had a vigorous sense of humor which boomed as loudly as ever. He had on a faded blue jacket and overalls, with big patches on the knees; how he wore them out was a mystery to me unless it came from holding so many grandchildren. One could see a steel grey mustache and pale blue eyes peeking out of a gray woolen cap which he had pulled dOWn over his ears to prevent him from hearing as “little” as usual. A pair of one-buckled overshoes completed his outfit; he had ordered them by freight to save postage, but evidently after three weeks of patient waiting he had gotten them in time for winter—or at least before any visible signs of his weather forecast had appeared. There was Granny waiting for us at the kitchen door; she was now eighty-one, but acted like eighty-one turned around every time company came—much to Grandpappy’s consternation. She was a typical German from the top of her head to the tip of her toes which was a distance of about four feet nine inches. Despite her smallness, she always said that Germany took Denmark and she took Grandpappy. She was attired in a bright print dress and home-spun wool stockings which called for shoes a size or two larger than usual. But did that stop her from hopping about? Oh no! The first thing you knew she was singing “Ach Du Lieber 4 ___THE DIAL Show less
DEDICATED IN RECOGNITION of PROFESSOR CARL FOSSE “Find me a man,” the angel cried, “One in whom great truths abide; Seek me a man among the wise, Such a one who’ll not despise Even the meanest work of men And I this day will honor him!” L. E.
