Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1950)

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JUNE found the card two days after John died, in a book about golfing. Memory slipped back to the sunny day long ago when he’d seen her off on a plane to New York. He’d brought her an orchid which she’d pinned to her coat, and the book. As she picked it up now, it fell open and there lay the card: “To June, a sweet swinger. Keep swinging.” Her breath caught. This was what John would have said, had he been here. This was like a little miracle. Else why should her hands have fallen on just this book, and why should the card have lain there untouched through the years? To June, it was a message from John as clearly as though he’d spoken. She took the card, and folded it between the pages of her prayerbook. Sorrow comes to us all. For a girl so young, June’s had her goodly share. Yet she’s been granted a faith so pure and singlehearted that sorrow has come hand-in-hand with the courage to meet life on its own terms. “When people lose someone they love,” she says quietly, “they’re likely to pity themselves. Why did this have to happen, they ask. You’re not supposed to ask why. Someday that question will be answered, but not here and now. Here and now you’ve got to ( Continued on page 91) 43