Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1948)

*!$&. "Colgate Dental Cream's active penetrating foam get9 into hidden crevices between teeth — helps clean out decaying food particles — stop stagnant saliva odors — remove the cause of much bad breath. And Colgate's soft polishing agent cleans enamel thoroughly, gently and safely!" LATER-Thanks to Colgate Dental Cream Always use COLGATE DENTAL CREAM after you eat and before every dale "NUMBER PLEASE" Radio Mirror's Best Letter of the Month Dear Papa David: When Mother sent me to a famous hospital, desperately hoping that some miracle of surgery could correct my faulty sight, I dreamed of the great things I'd do if a successful operation could be performed. But when three veteran specialists quietly shook their heads, my dream castle was swept away. I came home knowing that I could never see well, and in from six to nine years, total darkness must overtake me. "What do you plan to do, Will?" Mother asked one evening. "I don't know, Mother," I replied. "I think I may try for a job as timekeeper at the limestone quarry. Uncle Jed said there may be an opening there any day. It isn't far away, I know many of the men, and I could look at my time books as closely as I wish." Feeling a bit timid and uncertain about the whole thing, I applied for the job. Fortunately, I knew Mr. Burk, the foreman. "Our timekeeper is quitting," I was informed. "You shall have first consideration." A week later — on my sixteenth birthday— I went to work for the first time in my life. How proud I was of the bright new pencils, the timebook with its leather cover, and the clean white time-sheets! For eight months everything went along in splendid fashion. But with stunning suddenness came the day when I slowly walked home and told Mother the bad news — the quarry was going to be under new management, with a new foreman, and settm all employees would have to wear little numbered badges on their caps. I'd never be able to read those numbers! "I can't tell you a thing — but come to work tomorrow morning — I'll be there to help the new foreman get started," Mr. Burk had said, his voice carrying a tone of sympathy. On the following morning, with dread in my heart, I faced the new foreman. He was big and brawny, with a stern, ruddy face. When he saw my timebook he said, "It'll be numbers instead of names from now on, kid. Understand?" I was trying to gather enough courage to explain about my eyes when Mr. Burk called the new foreman to his side. They talked for a brief moment. The new foreman walked to the front of the rambling tool shed and signaled the workers to be quiet. "Men," he said, "I want you all to understand that the new management has an important new ruling, effective immediately. Every employee must know his number and call it out when the timekeeper says 'Number please.' Now, if that is clear, we'll go to work." A lump swelled in my throat as I hugged the big brown timebook. Days later, when I had proved that I could handle the work the foreman approached me and, smiling, sat down beside me. When he said, "I think we're going to hit it off together pretty well, kid," I instantly saw in my future — even after blindness arrives — a span of happy years that shall hold only brightness and joyous contentment and beauty, for my brawny comrade went on to say, "I'm going to see to it, kid, that you stay here just as long as you can say, 'Number please.' " K. D. S. RADIO MIRROR OFFERS $50 EACH MONTH FOR YOUR LETTERS Somewhere in everyone's life is hidden a key to happiness. It may be a half-forgotten friend, a period of suffering, an unimportant incident, which suddenly illuminated the whole meaning of life. If you are treasuring such a memory, won't you write to Papa David about it? For the letter he considers best each month, Radio Mirror will pay fifty dollars; for each of the others that we have room enough to print, ten dollars. No letters can be returned. Address your Life Can Be Beautiful letter to Papa David, Radio Mirror Magazine, 205 East 42 Street, New York 17, New York.