Arizona Republic from Phoenix, Arizona • Page 151

Girls, Don't Be Like Foolish Chickens I By KATHLEEN NORRIS HEN chickens are first let out of 'the shed in morning they rush madly in every direction. They up on the chopping' block, make for weed pile, change their direction and scuttle through the gate, abandon the corn pan for a useless ba-' nana peel, abandon that and attack a rotten apple over which several other fowls are pecking, and finally rise in the air with agitated squawks, before fluttering down to recommence business over again. They act this way because they are chickens and presumably have no mentality! When young girls, or even young married women imitate them it is more surprising. OOME of the girls who write me are in the same pitiful flurry as'tiie chickens. They are so afraid of missing something that they miss everything.

Then, heartbroken, they chafe through perfectly useless and uninteresting days, feeding their minds and souls upon the rich fare of movies, movie magazines, radio stories, and feeling that life has passed them by. It seems to me we could burn about two thirds of the school books we use, if for all the useless lessons we could substitute a few of the real lessons of living. These lessons, of course, ought to be learned at home. But very few homes are real schools of character and philosophy now, and children arrive at school years without a proper, base upon which to build.culture and learning. One of these bases surely ought to be the simple fact that it is much more intelligent to get ready your opportunity when it comes, than to waste time trying to create it artificially.

By rushing from one thing to another, attempting to grasp at openings for which they are entirely untrained and unfitted, girls have found Hollywood and every other market bitterly disappointing. About once a week some girl or woman writes me that she would like to be my secre- tary. Often the letter says that, salary is no object. Usually the writer lives in some dead-' ly dull country town and is frantic to get away. to get on a train and go somewhere and leave the tirer some routine of home life and office drudgery forever behind her.

OST of these applicants cannot spell. They don't know how to space a letter on the paper. Some, who can claim 30 years of wifehood, address me as "Miss 1 Almost all spell my name Variations 'are "Cathleen" or Many sign themselves as "Miss Mabel or "Mrs. J. D.

Smith. Here is a typical letter, received this morning: "Dear Miss Norris, would rarely like opportunity to get work either with you or in Cal recommend a warm climate I sometimes get severe bron- chal colds. Am High school gnd and 'have finished iteno course, therefore feel myself 'qualified for your with eventual ambition to. enter movies. Am attractive looking, 5 feet 6, (olden- 1 brown hair, brown eyes, perfect complexion." Perhaps that's enough of that letter to indicate to "you just what this girl's qualifications really are.

But she goes on to say that she lives with -her professor brother arid his Spanish wife, has a job, hates the town incidentally a very lovely Iowa college town and all the people in it, and doesn't propose to marry any of the "heels" of the neighborhood. ESIDES telling me unconsciously that she is not educated at all, that besides being weak in spelling she is inelegant in phrasing and given to the use of abbreviations and slang, this girl, further informs me that she is not strong; apt to be invalided in cold weather. Her worst enemy could hardly have injured her in a recommendation as much, as she has injured herself! But she also tells me that she has Had opportunities for culture, arid has been too blind to see them. A professor brother surely could have helped her at least to write a literate letter, and in company of a Spanish sister- in-law she'might have perfected herself in a very valuable language. HE won't use what is right at-hand.

Like a frantic chicken she wants to fly a fence or two, pull away from some other chicken a useless bit of food, ignoring the corn pen right before her. Years ago, when I was one of many office girls in the dullest jobs, the manager put his head in the door to ask, "Does anyone speak German?" No one answered. But- I had had living with me all my 20 years an aunt who had studied music in Germany, spoke the language fluently, and who would have been perfectly delighted to have any one of my six children take the slightest interest in it. Incidentally, the girl who was presently found to speak German was taken to Rio with a group of scientists, got a job, married a young American who is now high up in business circles there, and generally pulled her- life out of the rut we 'all hate so when we are young. I learned, jealously interrogating her, that all her" German, and it was good, had been acquired from a.

correspondence and record course. PPORTUNITIES, whether they come to a girl of 16, a young married woman of 28, or to older women of 40, 70, cannot be-' grasped by the totally unprepared and unfit. When they are, it is only for a brief time, and they end in" disaster. The history of all great enterprises, the building of all our colossal national successes is the story of two types of men and women. First, the hundreds who haven't been pre- pared, who have rushed in knowing nothing wasting time and money, cluttering up the legitimate workers.

And secondly, the others, who have learned as waiters or bicycle menders or filing clerks or the obscure teachers of rural schools to do ONE thing perfectly, completely, with all their hearts and souls. And have then discovered as those who work this way must inevitably discover, that they don't have to worry about opportunities, or try to get to them or force them or fabricate opportunities come to them, come in droves, and that the upper steps of the ladder to wealth and achievement and power mysteriously appear. in exactly their right places, when the time comes. I MAY be after two years, it may be aftc five, of apparently unrewarded drudgery and obscurity. But one of the things that make all stories of success so fascinating is the inevitable strangeness of the chain of events somehow found out the right person, in the little -job and the little town, and elevated to her rightful place with a speed that leaves her eternally dizzy.

Years ago my father, who was a countr told me that in every office and shop. in every group of workers, there is one that the higher-ups know is the best. The neatest, the most industrious and prompt and cheerful end faithful. And when the moment comes when the still higher higher-up savs, "I want your best girl for something pretty good," that girl it the one who is ready. Record Shows Up Caustic Sister A FRIENDLY, comfortable living room.

The glow of a log fire. Brass andirons glinted by the flames. Always Helen -enjoyed an evening with the Bartons. But now dominated by her sister-in-law's hostile presence! Trying not to think of that. Not resent anything Carrie said.

Studying the Wedgwood platter their hos'- tess was showing. Just inherited from an English aunt. An old one by the original Wedgwood? Or much later? The classic blue with white reliefs still being made. And still with the "Wedgwood" mark. "Afraid I couldn't tell the date," turned it over.

"I know so little about china. But this is most interesting!" see that," Carrie taking it. Then authoritatively, "Why, of course this is early! You can by the glaze and feel. I should say before 1730." "Didn't Wedgwood live later than that?" ventured Helen. "If you know so little about china why argue the date?" caustically.

"We'll look It up," Mr. Barton at the encyclopedia. A MOMENT'S silence as he skimmed through a volume. "Here it it Wedgwood, Josiah. No, couldn't have been that early.

He didn't have a factory till 1759." "Well, I said around 1730," crushing out her cigarette. "Why, I thought 'you said before 1730!" But her protest instantly regretted. "You're mistaken, Helen! I said 'around'." She HAD said But not insist. Never a dispute with anyone yet Carrie always provoked her to contrariness. Warren's grim silence.

Had he heard? But he would never take sides. Now Mrs. Barton tactfully steering the talk to politics. The dubious outlook for the next election. Unhappily Helen shrinking back.

Even though right, made to seem argumentative. As always, his sister had managed to put her in the wrong! And she would never admit being wrong herself. Her maddening infallibility! Never "lig enough to concede a mistake "By George. I forgot!" Warren tossed a match in the fireplace. "Senator Spout's holding forth on-foreign policy at 9." "Almost half-past." Mr.

Barton at the radio. "We'll get the end, anyway." A SPREAD-EAGLE peroration, and the announcer's "You have been listening "Guess we didn't miss much," shrugged Warren. "Same old bunk." 'Yet his is so well placed. He must have had voice training!" laughed Mrs. Barton.

"And perfect breath control "Off again! Since Marion's taken up singing forever analyzing voices." "Hasn't ray speaking voice improved Ev- eryone should study singing if only for that to learn breath control." "Huh, talk control more important!" grinned Warren. "Wish some of the politicians would go in for that" "But almost everyone has some voice defect" Then her eyes mischievous. "Would you like to hear just how you sound to others?" "Fine! give imitations?" "No your own voice recorded!" "Recorded!" thrilled Helen. haven't a machine?" "Yes, my teacher suggested it For self- criticism and correction. Almost $200 but worth it Pve got results in just three weeks!" "Oh, Td love to see the apparatus! Could we?" "Right here," opening the lower part of a bookcase.

IKE a small phonograph, but several dials. A large disk on the turntable. "It's been such fun! We've sent spoken letters to relatives we haven't seen in years. And Christmas we'll send our greetings on -records instead of cards." "We're making sound accompaniments, too for our home movies. And we can record from the radio! Any historic speech "Could we hear some of the records?" Helen's interest in anything electrical.

"Wouldn't you rather hear how your own voice sounds?" "You mean you could make a record now?" "It's already made!" she laughed. "Of all our voices!" An incredulous moment. Then a barrage- of questions. How had a recording been made without their knowing? The microphone concealed behind Mr. Barton's wing chair.

Not noticed when he carelessly reached back to the switch! "Golly, hope we didn't say anything in- criminating!" Warren slouched by the fireplace. "And you can run the record off now? It's all ready?" "We Just switch on this loudspeaker attachment. Now you're going to be surprised at the way you sound "Is there so much difference as- that?" "Yes, we hear bur own voices inside our heads and others hear them outside! Now you're sure you won't be hurt?" "Why should we?" crisped Carrie. "I for one am not so sensitive! And certainly don't lisp or stutter." "Well, let's hear the worst!" chuckled Warren. "Guess we can take it." ITH a final warning, Mrs.

Barton low-" ered the needle to the record. xxx that's lovely! Oh, you DO have such interesting: things Helen appalled. Was that her voice? So thin and fluttery. And so effusive! All listening tensely to the revealing record. The whole conversation how rambling, disconnected Carrie's voice shrill and instructive, with that caustic undercurrent.

Now at last she knew how she sounded! And her monopolizing garrulity. Almost a monologue. Only a few terse remarks from Warren. At least he didn't talk too much. But his pipe- muffled rumble.

Always hard to understand an old grievance. REWARNED, Mr. Barton saying little. Vnd his wife's speech self-consciously careful almost affected! xxx and everyone thinks they thinks he hai a flair xxx Would she have thought to correct her grammar if not recorded? Now the talk about the Wedgwood platter. Helen's hot flush.

Her overworked "How lovely!" and "How interesting!" So that was how she soun'ded! Nervously effusive. Unfinished sentences xxx know so little about china. But this is most interesting xxx Then Carrie's dogmatic: of course this is early! Ton can ten by the glaze and feel. I should say before 1730 xxx GREAT BOOKS IN BRIEF By ELIZABETH JAMES "HEIDI" By Johanna Spyri HE housewives stopped their work and ran out to talk with Deta. She had Heidi with her and they wanted to- get a good look at the child.

Meanwhile little Heidi was unaware of all this. She trudged along beside her Aunt Deta who had taken care of her the four years since her mother's death. Because Heidi's clothes would have made a heavy bundle, Deta hqd put them all on the child; red-faced and hot the child hurried along the -uphill road in the June sun. The village women scolded Deta violently when they heard that Heidi was going to live with her grandfather. He had a bad name.

While Deta was arguing to defend herself, Heidi spied Reter the goatherd. Running toward him, she began to ask a thousand questions about her new. home. As she ran along, the heat became unbearable; so the little girl took off three dresses, piled them in the pathway, and skimmed merrily along with Peter. Meanwhile Deta's conscience was giving her a bad time.

Had she not promised to take care of her But was there not now this position that would pay her well, which she could not take with Heidi on her. hands? V17THEN the two reached the hut of Heidi's grandfather, he greeted them gruffly He disliked Deta and spoke harshly''to hen Leaving-the child without learning whether it was safe or not, Deta ran down the moun- tain pursued "by her sense of guilt. Heidi was entranced with her new world every corner of the hut and stable she peeped, asking "Grandfather, what is this for?" The old man spoke slowly watching the child To himself he commented, "She uses her head." Together they made a new bed, piling hay the )off and covering it with a heavy sheet The old man served a supper of bread and cheese with bowls of warm, goat's milk to the hungry child. She relished everything -she saw and ate. Every morning Heidi went to the higher pastures with Peter who herded the goats for all the village.

The boy was a aimple person whose environment had not incased his brightness. Heidi was his first companion in his lonely business and he' counted the day a loss if she did not go with him. A THE summer passed Heidi's cheeks grew redder and her body stronger. Winter came, then it was June again. One, two, and three years passed much the same for the' three friends.

Heidi was how eight years old and had not yet been to school. One day the village pastor called, urging the grandfather to' come to the village in winter so that Heidi could go to school. But the old man replied bitterly. The pastor left the' hope that the grandfather would make his peace with God and man and would give the child better opportunities. One day quite unexpectedly Deta returned.

She brought word of a position for Heidi in a rich man's home, where she would be companion to a little crippled, girl. Heidi would have the same as Clara Sesemann. It seemed a wonderful opportunity for the little orphan. Heidi's grandfather stormed at Deta who took Heidi by the hand and dragged her away. Deta stopped Heidi's protests by promises of.

presents'for Heidi to bring back to her friends. Deta did not. say that this return might Yiot take place for years. Heidi reached Frankfurt under the impression that she would return, home that night; when she learned the truth her heart ached. To make life-harder, the housekeeper disliked children and hated Heidi.

The woman did all in her power to make the child's miserable. Heidi's urihappiness grew deeper each day. Meanwhile Clara Sesemann loved Heidj and found better for having the younger girl there. HEN some months had pa'ssed, things came to a bad turn for Heidi. Under the constant scolding of the housekeeper who would not let her cry, the child' was repressing her homesickness and unhappiness -within her.

It had to react someway, and she began walking in her sleep. The caught glimpses of her and thought a ghost had come to the house- but Mr. Sesemann and family doctor be- gan an all night watch one night that ended with the disclosure of Heidi's condition. When she walked down and went out the front door, they woke her. The child began to sob, telling them of her nightly dream that she was -with her grandfather on the Alp.

"Home you go tomorrow!" ordered the doctor. Thus Heidi returned to her home on the mountain. With boxes of gifts for her friends she visited them all, overflowing with joy. The grandfather had changed. Softened by his loneliness he had decided to move into the village for winter months so that Heidi could go to school.

Each Sunday morning they dressed in their best clothes and went to church. All the village was agog over the old grandfather and his new ways. A LETTER came one day saying that Clara was coming to visit Heidi. When the men ar-rived carrying Clara in her wheel chair, Heidi jumped up and down for joy. The-two girls were together in the sunshine and wind; every day they found new flowers and told new account's of what they, had done recently.

The passing weeks brought rosy cheeks to Clara and a fullness to her body. Pete alone was miserable. Jealous of Clara he spitefully pushed her rolling chair down the mountainside. Without her chair Clara had to be carried everywhere; this hampered her fun so much that she tried harder and harder each day to walk. And walk she did! Heidi and her grandfather prepared the great surprise for Clara's people.

The time came for Clara to leave. When her father came for her he wept for happiness to see'his daughter walking. He requested to be allowed to make some compensation; the only thing desired by the grandfather was protection for Heidi's future. This was provided for by Mr. Sesemann.

The story ends with happiness in the hearts of all. Buenos Aires reports a fierce battle between German and Polish teams in the world chess tournament there. Nazi players figure a lightning seizure of a corridor to the king should make checkmate easy. "Before 1730!" repeated Helen. Then, as the record abruptly ended, "Oh, you did say "Did loftily, lighting a cigarette.

'1 didn't notice." "Yes, I caught it that time," confirmed Mr. Barton. "On the record!" Warren examining the machine. "Couldn't deny that on the witness stand." "We're not on the witness stand. But might as well be! Recording a friendly conversation to be criticized "Oh, I'm sorry," crimsoned Mrs.

Barton. "1 didn't think you'd take it that way. You said you wouldn't be hurt!" "Of course we're not!" Helen's swift sympathy. "It was most interesting most enlightening!" "That's right, Kitten. Guess we're good enough sports to hear ourselves as others hear us!" "I never realized I was so effusive.

And I'm going to vary my adjectives. Not everything so 'lovely' and 'interesting'!" "And not so argumentative!" snapped Carrie. "Did you hear how you insisted on that date?" "Now that's enough. We'll not start on again," Warren grim. "I didn't think we should make a record without warning you." Mr.

Barton apologetic. "But Marion wanted it to be a surprise." "I only thought it would amuse you," still disconcerted. "Rather tactless amusement showing up our defects! Well, I must make that 10:33." thrusting her cigarette case in her purse. "Coming?" Helen longing to stay behind and reassure their hostess. Make up for his sister's ungraciousness.

Yet no excuse to linger. Trying for an extra warmth in her good-night. OWN in the wind-blown street. Carrie still voicing her indignation. A relief when Warren put her into a taxi that whirled her stationward.

"Now what d'you say, Kitten? Want to walk?" "I'd love to!" Then emotionally, "Dear, I feel so sorry for Mrs. Barton. I know just how she's anguishing "Over that record, eh?" lighting his pipe in a sheltered doorway. "Childish of Carrie to get sore." "Furious because it proved what she said! She'll never admit being wrong "Foi? Pete's sake, don't you start on that never-admit line! One of your theme songs. Ought to make a record of that save you repeating it." "But dear, do I really sound so so gushy and fluttery?" "Well, you heard the record," callously.

"From now on I'm being more reserved! Not so emotional. Not so many superlatives "Huh, that's what you think now. Your resolutions!" "And it certainly proved how you rumble! Half the time I can't understand you and you claim I don't listen. But tonight you heard yourself "Must've had my pipe in my mouth." "You always have! But at least you don't ramble or talk too much. They were careful because they knew about the microphone!" "Not such a bad idea recording gabfests," grinning down at her.

"Might make people talk less and only when they'd something to say!" Then belligerently swishing his cane. "But I'm not so keen on these new gadgets. Trailed everywhere by candid cameras. Now with recording machines and soon television on the phone Fat chance of any privacy!" (Copyright 1939, by Mabel Herbert Harnr-'.