Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1949)

Traveler of the Month (Continued from page 23) money and packages began coming back to Scotland. That wasn't enough, though. And neither was the dole — about $40 a month. Thus, it was up to Elizabeth. And while her husband stayed home, trying, in his sightless way, to keep track of the younger children, Elizabeth began going out every day to scrub and clean and serve in the homes of others. Sometimes, sitting alone in her kitchen at night, Elizabeth allowed herself a luxury — she took the time to dream of life in America. In that dream there were picture shows and dinners at fine restaurants and bright colored clothes. It was a dream, though, and the tea pot oyer there, the tea pot with the few "shillings in it, was the reality. IN 1933, James McDonald, a good man, a man conquered by the madness of a world he didn't make, finally died. Mrs. McDonald's brood began to move away. Two daughters and a son came to America. They, at least, made the grade, and they did well. This was some relief, of course. Meantime, back home, there still was the business of getting up early to go out on domestic work. A grandmother, who should have been home by her fire, going off to do the work of a younger woman. The cavalcade went on. World War II this time. Bombers roaring out over Scotland. American soldiers in the streets — young laughing kids with independent, friendly ways. Elizabeth looking at their well-fed bodies, their innocent swagger, and wondering if her own boys would have been that way had she gone to America years ago. Finally, though, the war was over. And Mrs. McDonald began thinking more and more about America. Her daughters and son wrote urgent letters. They would gladly pay her passage over. Then, as she put it: "All of a sudden, I just took a notion. I wouldn't take one of those frightening boats, of course, but I would fiy. Yes, I'd fly to my family in America." After fifty years of waiting, the arrangements were astonishingly simple. Almost before she knew it, she was tightening her safety belt in a huge airship which would take her to Ireland, Boston, New York. Had she found her relatives here different from the people back home? And if so, in what way? "Oh yes, my people are all Americans. I mean they smile more, and don't seem to have to count their pennies, and every day is a holiday. Yes, I'll say they're different all right. Now, me, I always had something to keep me back. Nothing really seems to keep these people back." One of these days, Mrs. McDonald will be going back to Scotland. All of her children are away now, and she'll be living in that house all by herself. I wondered if she'd be lonely. I "Lonely?" she asked. "No, not hardly. < For I'll still be going out to do my do ' mestic work three or four days a week. j And the rest of the time, I'll be glad ' to ,iust be home taking it easy." I Well, I hope this wonderful little old I lady really has a chance to take it easy. And as she sits near her fire, and maybe drops off to sleep, I hope she I dreams again of her rare and wonder I ful holiday in America. I hope she's I stored up enough memories to make up 1 for those fifty years of waiting. xiave you ever wondered if you are as lovely as you could be— are you completely sure of your charm? Your deodorant can be the difference . . . and you will never know how lovely you can be until you use Fresh. Fresh is so completely effective, yet so easy and pleasant to use . . . Different from any deodorant you have ever tried. 85