Friendship Come, my boy, and share my joy, I’ve more than enough for me. I’ll share a crown or get a pound—— 80 cast that frown from thee! We’ll head for town—oh, any town— And spread ourselves around. We’ll see the Fair and if you care To a gurdy show I’ll pay your fare. I’ll try my luck at... Show moreFriendship Come, my boy, and share my joy, I’ve more than enough for me. I’ll share a crown or get a pound—— 80 cast that frown from thee! We’ll head for town—oh, any town— And spread ourselves around. We’ll see the Fair and if you care To a gurdy show I’ll pay your fare. I’ll try my luck at shooting ducks And the prize I’ll give to thee. We’ll buy some flu]? and with it stufl The maids we’re sure to see. Of ale and such I’ll buy you much And the cost to you is free! So come, my boy, and share my joy, I’ve more than enough for me. ——DON HEGG + WE THANK THEE, LORD For crystal snow, For sunset fire, For fields of grain, For heads of dew, Metallic stars For blades of grass, And silver rain, And skies so blue, We thank Thee, Lord. We thank Thee, Lord. For gifts that come From Thee above, Which show to us A Savior’s love, We thank Thee, Lord. IRENE JOHNSON 49 Show less
quito lotion. I asked the clerk where the nearest and best lake was. “Lake of the Woods,” he said, “ ’bout seventy miles west of here.” I mentioned to him that a friend had said that Bill Slocum had said that there was dandy fishing right near Oula. The clerk just looked at me for a minute. Then... Show morequito lotion. I asked the clerk where the nearest and best lake was. “Lake of the Woods,” he said, “ ’bout seventy miles west of here.” I mentioned to him that a friend had said that Bill Slocum had said that there was dandy fishing right near Oula. The clerk just looked at me for a minute. Then he smiled. “Oh, you mean my cousin Bill” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t need to know what to say. “I’ll close the store,” the clerk went on, “and go with you.” Together we went back to the car. I tried to ask him who Bill was, but he only smiled. I wondered what magic there could be in the name of Bill. I wondered how Bill could be everyone’s cousin. We got in the car and drove on down the narrow road. Pretty soon we came to a gate. “Will you open the gate?” I asked my friend, the clerk of the general store. A man ran out of a house that was almost hidden in the trees and dense underbrush. He came up to the car. Apparently he didn’t see the clerk first because he came up to me and said, “What do you want?” I don’t know what made me mention Bill again, but I did. His face lit up and he said, “Oh, you mean my cousin Bill.” He opened the gate and we drove through. After another couple of minutes the clerk turned to me and said, “We’ll have to leave the car here. Have you got much stuff with you?” I said, “Not too much.” We took my eleven suit cases, my outboard motor, and my seven tackle boxes out of the car and laid them on the ground. We took as much as we could carry and followed a narrow winding path through the woods. Sud- denly the trees thinned a little. I looked ahead and stood trans- fixed. Way below was a jewel of a lake, small but beautiful. I had seen a lake like that before on the calendar of Dr. Pops Little Liver Pills. At the edge I could see a small white cabin and a boat tied to a dock. “You will like it here,” the clerk said. “I must get back to the store. You can make your way down yourself. You can pay when you are through using it. If you need anything, call at the store.” For a moment I didn’t say anything. I was too surprised. Never had I started out on a vacation as strange as this one. I turned to say something to the clerk. He was gone! 11 DIAL Show less
/ Was find It had snowed hard all morning—not the kind of snow that is light and fluffy, like feathers, but the kind of snow that is soggy and wet. I had cleaned my house that morning, and now only one task remained to be done, that of shaking my rugs. I opened the door and proceeded “ddiiny n5k.... Show more/ Was find It had snowed hard all morning—not the kind of snow that is light and fluffy, like feathers, but the kind of snow that is soggy and wet. I had cleaned my house that morning, and now only one task remained to be done, that of shaking my rugs. I opened the door and proceeded “ddiiny n5k..As Ilooked out upon the snowy street I saw a child stumbling, shivering, crying. “Little girl,” I called, “won’t you come in and get warm by my fire?” She stopped crying and came in. Inside, I found a chair for her, and moved it closer to the fire. “What’s your name?” I asked as I began to unloosen her scarf and well-wom cap. “Kathleen,” she said. “Do you live far from here?" “About ten blocks,” she answered. I stooped to take off her shoes that her feet might get warm. She had no overshoes, so her feet were very wet. I laid out her things to dry; then gave her a banana and a cookie to eat. Finally, Kathleen was warm again. I helped her with her coat, tied her scarf tightly around her neck, pulled her cap down over her ears, and started to draw on her steaming wet mittens. Then I stopped. The mittens were in shreds, and at least two or three sizes too large for her tiny hands. “Just wait a minute,” I called as I began to ascend the stairs to my bedroom. Returning, I handed her a pair of my old mittens which I had now outgrown. She smiled with delight as I pulled the soft, dry, white mittens onto her red, chapped hands. “See,” she shouted, as she pointed to her left mitten, “it’s got a red heart on it!” I led her to the door, said good-bye, then watched her trudge slowly down the street. “God bless you, little girl,” I breathed as I closed the door. Then I turned to straighten my rugs and finish my cleaning. Now it was easy to work, for I was glad. —4WARH:CUENWCK DIAL 18 Show less
0/) Being small It is an obvious and indisputable truth. No matter how I argue the fact remains that I am small. With a standard ruler I measure only five feet and one inch tall. Time was when I did not feel so completely resigned to the inevitable as I do now. When folks would smile at me and say... Show more0/) Being small It is an obvious and indisputable truth. No matter how I argue the fact remains that I am small. With a standard ruler I measure only five feet and one inch tall. Time was when I did not feel so completely resigned to the inevitable as I do now. When folks would smile at me and say, “My, I don’t think Arabella will get so big either,” I would stand up very straight, gulp, blink the tears back and return (very casually), “But I am taller than my sister (who is older) already.” I wondered at the time why folks would be so very unkind as to air their pessimistic views in regard to my growth. When the sense of frustration became too acute I would retreat to a solitary room, and give vent to bitter tears of vexation and resentment— vainly wishing that I would grow. I resolved to wear high heels just as soon as I was allowed to. I envied my older sisters who were already wearing them. Eventually, I abandoned all hopes of getting tall. With as much grace as was possible, after hoping and expecting for the greater part of sixteen years that I would grow “up”, I resigned myself to the decrees of Fate. But time has healed the wounds inflicted by cruel circum- stance. The edge of what was once such a bitter disappointment has been taken off. Now I ask myself such sensible and comfort- ing questions as: “Well, what is wrong with being little?” “Who wants to be a skyscraper, anyway?” Such contemplation brings great peace of mind. Consider carefully, with me, and you will discover that there are a great many advantages to being small. For example, this mat- ter of class recitation. A difficult question is asked, and, rather than suffer the embarrassment of revealing ignorance, I can shrink up and conceal myself behind the big person in front. Then there are such incidentals as being able to wear a size 5 shoe instead of 91/2, and being able to curl up comfortably on the seats of a bus or train. And above all, let us consider the “character-developing” i5 . DIAL Show less
Pancfared Plat/fades A rolling stone, the proverbs say Can gather little moss; Yet such a stone, it’s evident Obtains a lovely gloss. To nestle in a cozy spot Protected from the sun May gather moss—huge quantities. But is it any fun? The early birds may get the worms; In fact, they often do.... Show morePancfared Plat/fades A rolling stone, the proverbs say Can gather little moss; Yet such a stone, it’s evident Obtains a lovely gloss. To nestle in a cozy spot Protected from the sun May gather moss—huge quantities. But is it any fun? The early birds may get the worms; In fact, they often do. Consider then the eaten worm, For it was early too! ’Tis better far to middling be, Whate’er good folk affirm, For no man knows which part he’ll play, The early bird, or worm! — CLODAUGH NEIDERHEISER find Ng'g/If Came Long, rosy fingers of light stretched across the horizon giving the sky a brightness that almost equalled noon. The clouds, behind which the sun finally slipped, were soft and radiant with golden light. Behind, the moon began to rise, as a quiet, solitary sentinel of the night. The sky darkened, making the clouds turn gray and soft blue. The moon, no longer robbed of its glory by the shining sun, climbed steadily higher, casting forth shafts of beams which fell broken upon the rippling water. All was hushed and still. And night came. ——MARIE G JENVICK DIAL 4 Show less
George vaerdruup Library Minneapolis, MN 55454 THE [lIHL May, 1944 Co-Editors . . . . . . . . . . . . CLARA GUDIM MARY LOU MORTENSEN Business Manager JUSTIN TORGRIMSON VOLUME SIXTEEN Published by THE AUGSBURG COLLEGE WRITERS’ CLUB Augsburg College, Minneapolis, Minnesota
how, I bound the two pieces together. Now my hopes were high again. Maybe Trixie could be saved, maybe we wouldn’t have to kill her, maybe— The days passed by slowly; they seemed to linger and drag on as do entire years. Not being able to endure the suspense any longer, I started to remove the... Show morehow, I bound the two pieces together. Now my hopes were high again. Maybe Trixie could be saved, maybe we wouldn’t have to kill her, maybe— The days passed by slowly; they seemed to linger and drag on as do entire years. Not being able to endure the suspense any longer, I started to remove the bandage. Searcely had I begun when I smelled the odor of decaying flesh. That seemed to be the waning of the last hope. Undoing the bandage I saw that the wound showed no signs of healing. Grief-stricken I picked up an old burlap sack near at hand and a heavy piece of iron. Yes, Trixie must die. The sooner, the better. I called my uncle, who fully agreed with me, and so, while I tremblineg held the sack over Trixie’s head, he raised the iron above his head, poised and motion- less, as though reluctant to strike. Then suddenly he let the blow fall, and it struck with a dull thud on poor Trixie’s head. Wrapping her in the sack, I carried her into the midst of the woods where I prepared a shallow grave for her. Gently I placed her lifeless body into the earth, and slowly, so slowly, I covered her with the black dirt. I thought then of God, and dimly won- dered if He had made any provision for dogs to enter heaven. If he did—then my speculation stopped and these somewhat reas- suring words of an old western folk song rang in my ears: “Now if dogs have a heaven Then there’s one thing I know—- That old Shep (Trixie), has a wonderful home.” —]Usr1N TORGRIMSON 21 DIAL Show less
Musing: It is one of those exquisite, cold, starry nights. Cassiopia and the Big Dipper are etched out clearly against the deep blue. The air is pungent and fresh—invigorating with every breath. Tall oak trees make a faint black silhouette against the darkened sky. The grass is wet with a heavy... Show moreMusing: It is one of those exquisite, cold, starry nights. Cassiopia and the Big Dipper are etched out clearly against the deep blue. The air is pungent and fresh—invigorating with every breath. Tall oak trees make a faint black silhouette against the darkened sky. The grass is wet with a heavy dew, and I can feel the damp- ness of it making my feet feel uncomfortably cool. I shiver in my light-weight sweater; but I dare not move for fear I may break the spell of wonder and awe that has enveloped me. “O God,” I cry within my heart, “Thou who hast made the heavens and the earth in all their beauty! How canst Thou be mindful of man who has wrought only havoc with Thy creation? . . Give me a clean, new heart, 0 God, that I may be strong and beautiful like this.” firfi' I walked down the dusty country road. The trees were friend— ly, bowing low as if to touch me as I passed by. The tall stalks of corn whispered and murmured softly in the summer breeze. Gold— en yellow daisies and black—eyed Susans smiled up at me. The little overalled farmer’s son whistled cheerfully as he herded his father’s cows into the pasture. And suddenly, I forgot the gnawing care that had clutched at my heart; I forgot that life was hard and toilsome. Lifting a hope- ful face to the blue, cirrus—clouded sky, I breathed a prayer of thankfulness to God. — CLARA GUDIM DIAL 8 Show less
long May Oar [and Be Brig/If Freedom brings a million things to mind. I think of children’s laughter, gay and loud . . . soap box orators proclaiming their rights and ideals, punctuated by the halting noises of streetcars, buses, and trains that carry the free to their goals. And the white picket... Show morelong May Oar [and Be Brig/If Freedom brings a million things to mind. I think of children’s laughter, gay and loud . . . soap box orators proclaiming their rights and ideals, punctuated by the halting noises of streetcars, buses, and trains that carry the free to their goals. And the white picket fence that guards each neighbor’s yard, only to keep the infant from escape. I think of the telephone wires that stitch the states together oe’r mountain and dale—the channels of thought where ideas run rampant. I think of little red school houses, steeped in the tradition of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, that dot the country with regular precision in their march for truth. I think of America, synonym of freedom. Truly, the land of the free and the home of the brave. — MARY LOU MORTENSEN You Walking by your side Thrills me to the core— And when you speak, It’s music to my ears. Your smile makes me yield To your trivial wish. Long are the hours Of your absence. You are like a Beautiful melody— Always with me, Yet so far away. —MARY LOU MORTENSEN 29 DIAL Show less
The sun was just going down as I walked around the little white cabin. I saw something on the wall—a sign of directions. The sign read: “You are in for a treat. In the evening try throw- ing bread crumbs on the water just beyond the dock.” This certainly was strange I told myself. I was almost... Show moreThe sun was just going down as I walked around the little white cabin. I saw something on the wall—a sign of directions. The sign read: “You are in for a treat. In the evening try throw- ing bread crumbs on the water just beyond the dock.” This certainly was strange I told myself. I was almost scared when I thought of the strange things that had happened during the day. I got some crumbs from the cabin, and walked out on the dock. I threw them into the water. Almost at once I was conscious of a tremendous action. The water literally churned. I looked down and could see many fish come to the surface for crumbs. I had seen tame fish before at Crooked Lake, but never this big. One huge northern caught my eye especially. I ran back to the cot— tage for my rod. 1 came back with a net. I’d get that fellow. That would really be something for me to take back with me. It was too easy. I reached in and netted the big fish. I was just going to conk the northern on the head when a commanding voice arrested me. “I wouldn’t do that. That's my cousin Bill!” As I turned to see where the voice came from I heard a great splash. The big fish was back in the lake. I looked at the clerk. “I don’t understand you. Did you say that he was your cousin Bill?” He roared. “It’s a little game we play with all tourists who come up here. Only a few select fishermen ever come to this out of the way spot. And we like to keep them guessing.” “Do you really mean that that is your cousin Bill?” “Yes,” he said and laughed again. “I’ll go with you out tomor- row, and we’ll get some real fish. You found out faster than they usually do who cousin Bill is.” Later when I drove back to the cities, I vowed that when tires wouldn’t be quite so precious, I’d tell someone else that a good friend of mine had just got a tip from a friend of his that he had heard from his cousin Bill, who lived in Oula, that in and around Oula he could find the best fishing in Minnesota. —ROBERT NELSON DIAL 12 Show less
25 Reverie I saw a rose last night, A fragrant flower. It’s ruby-velvet petals lightly dewed; Scarce open yet, so young it was. I loved the flower— And thought of you. I heard a song this morn, A happy robin sang enraptured; Song of life, and love, and joy. I heard the robin sing— And thought of... Show more25 Reverie I saw a rose last night, A fragrant flower. It’s ruby-velvet petals lightly dewed; Scarce open yet, so young it was. I loved the flower— And thought of you. I heard a song this morn, A happy robin sang enraptured; Song of life, and love, and joy. I heard the robin sing— And thought of you. I felt the wind today, Fresh with unshed rain upon my face. I felt its soft caress— And thought of you. -—CLODAUGH NEIDERHEISER DIAL Show less
My Edit/en I have a garden, oh so rare, I tend it every day; I water it in carefulness, And pluck its weeds away. My garden’s grown for many a year, But ne’er will it grow old; For the blossoms that are found therein Are worth far more than gold. My garden’s name is friendship; It grows down in... Show moreMy Edit/en I have a garden, oh so rare, I tend it every day; I water it in carefulness, And pluck its weeds away. My garden’s grown for many a year, But ne’er will it grow old; For the blossoms that are found therein Are worth far more than gold. My garden’s name is friendship; It grows down in my heart. The happiness that it has brought Will never from me part. So from the garden of my heart Where happy wishes grow, All fragrant with the tender thoughts Of friends I like to know. I send these blossoms gay and rare, A friendly, bright, bouquet, To wish you every happiness For every passing day. May God be here to bless you, And keep you in His way, With peace and comfort in your heart, And joy in every day. Then will my garden ever grow, And be more lovely too; For added to its blossoms gay, Are thoughts of friends like you. — MARIE GJENVICK DIAL Show less
A Flier's Prayer By Hugh Brodie, Australian Air Force Sergeant - Almighty and all present Power, Short is the prayer I make to Thee, I do not ask in battle's hour For any shield to cover me. The vast unalterable way, From which the stars do May not be turned aside The bullet flying to my I ask no... Show moreA Flier's Prayer By Hugh Brodie, Australian Air Force Sergeant - Almighty and all present Power, Short is the prayer I make to Thee, I do not ask in battle's hour For any shield to cover me. The vast unalterable way, From which the stars do May not be turned aside The bullet flying to my I ask no help to strike I seek no petty victory not depart to stay heart 0 my foe, here, The enemy I hate, I know, To Thee is also dear. But this T pray, be at my side When death is drawing through the sky. Almighty God who also died Teach me the way that I should die. From Lutheran Life Light - Feb. - Mar. 1943 - Show less
27 To .S'pring Tinkling in the soft spring air, Music comes from everywhere, And it brings a new spring song. It is so frail; it can’t last long. It seems a web of ecstasy Is spun, connecting spring and me, With one glad song, so sweet and free. Ah, spring! What happiness you bring! My soul is... Show more27 To .S'pring Tinkling in the soft spring air, Music comes from everywhere, And it brings a new spring song. It is so frail; it can’t last long. It seems a web of ecstasy Is spun, connecting spring and me, With one glad song, so sweet and free. Ah, spring! What happiness you bring! My soul is thrilled to hear you sing. Above the earth, above the trees Are clouds—of endless fantasies; Of dancing fairies in the snow, Which left the earth not long ago. My soul soars high on wings of song To heaven’s gate, where you belong. —EVELYN LANDSVERK 0w “5/” His stately walk, his piercing eye, Caught our respect as he passed by. His nature staunch, his stature straight, Beckoned us toward the golden gate. His comforting talks, his outspoken prayers, 7 Gave us a glimpse of the Christ he shares. His loving smile, his cordial ear, Turned our problems to heavenly cheer. But now he’s gone, the battle’s o’er. He’s taken his place on deity’s shore. Now we may say, how privileged I—- To have known God’s man, our saintly “Si.” DIAL Show less
suddenly spring out into the air out of the sickle's way. This oc- curred again and again, and finally I relaxed my vigilance and payed less attention to where she was. About half-way through my third round I noticed that Trixie had stopped in front of the sickle and was curiously watching the... Show moresuddenly spring out into the air out of the sickle's way. This oc- curred again and again, and finally I relaxed my vigilance and payed less attention to where she was. About half-way through my third round I noticed that Trixie had stopped in front of the sickle and was curiously watching the noisy “thing” move toward her. Closer and closer it came! Trixie turned to go at last, but alas, too late. I saw her foot slide into the teeth of the bar, then I heard the sickening sound of a knife cut- ting through bone. Instantaneously with a bark of pain she jerked away and hobbled toward the middle of the field. By this time I had stopped the horses and had started to follow Trixie. How— ever, I couldn’t leave the horses alone, so I had to wait for an opportunity to attract my uncle who was working in the next field. After some time, I managed to get his attention and hurriedly attempted to explain what had happened. He quickly ran to the place where the dog lay, and came back with the report that the leg was cut through—clean through—and that the foot was attached by but a thin piece of flesh. Needless to say, I was horri- fied and pained beyond words at the thing which I had done. Then, right at this inopportune time, it started to rain. My uncle ran to his tractor shouting over his shoulder that we should go home, then return in the car to pick up poor Trixie. Jumping on the seat I slapped the horses hard, and set off at a dead gallop across the field. Home, I feverishly unhitched the horses, jumped into the waiting car, and drove down to pick up the dog. Arriv- ing at the field, we found Trixie bravely trying to hobble home on three legs, while the fourth flopped and bobbed in a most gruesome manner. Tenderly, lovingly, I placed her in the car and in spite of intense pain she looked up at me, and feebly wagged her tail in appreciation. My uncle had said little since the accident. Now, however, he informed me that we would have to kill Trixie. “No!” I cried. “No! Give me a chance to try to help her. The leg might mend together again.” Although my uncle was not convinced, I pleaded as I had never pleaded before. Finally, my uncle weakened and agreed to let me try. So, breathing a prayer for help I took Trixie out of the car and carried her into the barn. I rushed to the house, and with the help of my aunt, mixed some disinfectant, found some cloths, and made some splints. Then, as tenderly as I knew DIAL 20 Show less
DEDICATION TO THE MEMORY OF Jo/m Sigurd Me/by He left us this year . . . a big man, in stature and in the estimation of the students . . . happy and cordial . . . benign and appreciative . . . a great sportsman and a strong coach . . . courageous and devoted to God. His door was always open to a... Show moreDEDICATION TO THE MEMORY OF Jo/m Sigurd Me/by He left us this year . . . a big man, in stature and in the estimation of the students . . . happy and cordial . . . benign and appreciative . . . a great sportsman and a strong coach . . . courageous and devoted to God. His door was always open to a troubled heart, a lonesome student, or a dear friend. I oy and sorrow intermingled in God’s pattern of his life. He knew loneliness in the city and on the farm, but he also knew God intimately. Our “Si” is only a memory now, but a living memory in the hearts of people scattered all over the world. Show less
Now Gramps is called back to the middle west. Here he lives on a farm. His salary? It is pitifully little, and when the church treasurer vanishes with all the funds, Gramps says “skip it” to the church council, and lives on no salary for one year. His generosity is unsurpassed, and this... Show moreNow Gramps is called back to the middle west. Here he lives on a farm. His salary? It is pitifully little, and when the church treasurer vanishes with all the funds, Gramps says “skip it” to the church council, and lives on no salary for one year. His generosity is unsurpassed, and this convenient fact is known to all grand- children, especially during the ice cream cone season. Those of us who have been carried to bed on his shoulders to the tune of “Himlen Er Mit Hjem” will never forget it, nor the bewhiskered, loving kiss that always followed. I would not call Grandpa vain. Yet his ties are chosen with meticulous scrutiny, and I have never seen him untidy, whether in Prince Albert or smoking jacket. Gramps is a humanitarian, always helping someone, whether it’s shelling peas or giving “special delivery” sermons. Now he’s in retirement, so they say. Where the retirement comes in, I cannot see. He attends every meeting of religious or cultural interest that he can, and maintains the same active position of leadership in the Old Folks Home as he has done for so many years in the civic community. Although he hears little, sees less, and walks with difficulty, Grandfather never complains to anyone. Yes, he has lived, loved, and liked it! — MARY LOU MORTENSEN Proximity A star arose. It shone on me. I stood and thought How close God seemed to be. —NORMA SATEREN 7 DIAL Show less
I7 My Friend Sometimes I feel that I am all alone, With none to share my care or dry my tear. ’Tis then a smile can case my saddened heart And make me glad that you are close and dear. Sometimes I’m hungry for a word of love, I come with ready ears to hear your voice. ’Tis then I’m glad to call... Show moreI7 My Friend Sometimes I feel that I am all alone, With none to share my care or dry my tear. ’Tis then a smile can case my saddened heart And make me glad that you are close and dear. Sometimes I’m hungry for a word of love, I come with ready ears to hear your voice. ’Tis then I’m glad to call you my dear friend, That in your fellowship I can rejoice. Sometimes I fear a task I have to do, With trembling heart I come to you for aid, ’Tis then my task is made light by your words And fears and doubtings from my heart soon fade. Sometimes I fall—temptation is too strong I weep and ask forgiveness for my sin. ’Tis then your prayer can cheer my breaking heart And help me fight temptations, help me win. --NORMA SATEREN Rim/5 Drops of rain ’gainst rays of sun, Tiny prisms, one by one, Gently stealing from the blue, Daring beams to fade from view. Beams, defying raindrops’ threat, Plot a triumph even yet. See a rainbow, dance with glee— Banish friendly rivalry. —LORRAINE WELTZIN DIAL Show less
