The Akron Beacon Journal from Akron, Ohio • Page 191

Where it's happening now iff Til isn't one of my hobbies, I've got plenty of solid wooden spools to give the grandchildren splinters in the mouth. And then wrapped carefully in tissue, encased in cardboard will be a genuine Sunsweet quart-size prune juice bottle (green) and a potentially very valuable Regina wine vinegar bottle with its indestructible, painted-on label. Why, it'll be like digging up a Jim Beam bottle under a dead rose bush. Finally, I've stopped using my Dresden Blue round metal tray. It's an authentic Spic and Span.

Wise too late, but learning fast, I've nothing in the house bearing those magic words, more American than Mom and apple pie: Coca-Cola. Page 4 puzzle answer SSE 1 1 2 I EE i Continued from page 13 Eastern Seabords. (Never throw a well-folded map away Is ay they fold up much less obstinately than crisp new ones.) I'll throw in a Bic pen or two since I've read there's a return to fountain pens and some small candle holders which ought to be curiosities when electricity is rationed and big candles are back. The sack will get two Teflon pans I hate; a depleted aerosol can, and a ceramic fish dish signed and dated, Bob French, 1964 THAT ought to throw a dealer someday. WITH RUSTY Prince Albert cans going for $1.50 and Satina tins on velvet, I'm saving those little metal flatties from aspirin, throat lozenges and milk of magnesia.

The milk of magnesia tins are the nicest, I think red, white and blue. From the medicine chest will also go metal Desenex and Dr. Scholl's foot powder cans- And varying sizes of Band-Aid tins, If I can wean my husband away from Old Spice shaving lotion, I might get a golf tee or barracuda bottle for the sack. Noting cookie and candy tins in many displays, I've consigned my sewing materials to an old shoe box so posterity can get a look at my Red Rose cookie tin. And lucky me, I like tea.

Tea tins are big. Very big! From here on, my Wagner's tea cans go into a special sack in pristine condition io earn dividends for tomorrow. A half dozen McCormick's spice cans, a red Calumet Baking Powder and a "Biscuit" tin somebody gave me will never see the trash can. Haven't quite made up my mind about Contadina tomato pastes but with the label stamped on and the smiling lady, somebody-may get a laugh out of it someday. The fair convinced me my husband's aversion to junking worn faucet handles, plumbing fixtures, bits and pieces of lead and copper pipe and cut-off valves is not so kooky after all The faucet handles, particularly, are solid possibles cleaned and polished, they ought to look great in a teakwood display case! I've retrieved old door knobs, unscrewed a couple of brass coathooks, and have just about decided we didn't need doors the hinges should go in the Sack.

And I just KNEW there was a reason for saving all the old keys. AS FOR GLASSWARE, two genuine Service Station Uglies are down for the sack A B. C. Grog Mug and an Apollo 13. We had dozens but I rebelled and threw them out.

Damn! And there are four 10-cent relish dishes used for banana splits and a relish jar embossed with a rope design. (Or is it a caterpillar?) Cleaning out the toy chest had never occurred to me, so I turned up some treasures: six or seven crayon-smeared Whitman kiddie books those "Little Steam Shovel" nickel-to-quarter types; a Boy Scout knife; wooden blocks I almost chucked out when they started using them for weapons; Yogi Bear cards and a Smokey the Bear badge; a bag of Matchbox and Corgi cars (I'll keep the London bus and metal play money in mint condition, the dime looking more real than the dime today.) And there is a neat pile of Classics Comics, but frankly a 30-year-old Dick Tracy or Flash Gordon is preferable. Unfortunately for the sack, my husband traded comic books for marriage. I'm throwing in an old iron without steam holes, some apple corers, a butter curler, and a frozen food saw used only once as the board-stiff hamburger had a stubborn turn of grind. THE WORLD CHANGES, but needles don't, Spools do, however.

PLASTIC. Since mending 1 1 Save 2.01 on Good Continued from page 9 metaphor to explain just what his team is going through. "With us it's like the old Dallas Cowboys," said Bostian, who added that he was a close friend of some of the stars. "When they first came into the league there were more people on the bench than in the stands. They lost games, the fans booed.

But, man, when they started to be a contender Bostian leaned forward on the desk, eyeball-ing his interrogator. "How can WAKR, the rotten little station we are, win the award for the best newscast in the state of Ohio (1973)? And we're better now." Anthony, too, believes the evening news show is getting better, but he shuns full credit. "I think it's individual pride," he said. "This is an ideal market for people on the way up. We know we have to compete in the Cleveland market, and the stations there do an excellent job.

"So we either take the attitude that nobody cares, that nobody ever sees it, or we say, 'dam it, I'm just as good as they and we bust our butts to prove it." ANTHONY USUALLY leaves the station about noon, heading for either a salad lunch or handball at the YMCA. He is five feet, nine inches tall, and he has to work at holding his waistline at 36 inches. Jowls are threatening his face. He is not offensively vain, but perhaps like anyone who is on television five times a week, he is concerned with his looks. In his appearance, he says, lies his strength as an anchorman.

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