Radio mirror (Jan-June 1948)

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%k/^ ^^w^ r^e//i /L ^^j./mtLwi'i^o^ ^L am, o^ ^L Icfm &i^^ 'J(avm lfmne(^^Ma Jii'/:tm /i/e a/mod u/mtie t^omn IN the Perkins parlor, John Perkins' picture stood on the mantel, just as it had before he went away. It was John to the life — the fine, serious face, the good, clean line of cheekbone and jaw, and the smile ... the rare, quick smile that, Ma always said, seemed to come straight from his heart and go straight into yours. But John was dead — killed, somewhere in Germany, buried in some unmarked grave. Ma knew it. She had accepted it, never once surrendering to the treacherous hope that her son John might somewhere be living, breathing, walking the earth. He lived only in her heart, in her memory, and she lived — for all she had left. For her beloved younger daughter. Fay, and Fay's little Paulette, for her older daughter, Evey, and Evey's husband, Willy Fitz, and their Junior. And for all her friends and neighbors in Rushville Center. And yet, here she was, on a February night when the snow was hip-deep on the fields around the town, sitting beside ShufHe Shober in the sumptuously redecorated drawing room of the old Hamilton place, waiting to see John. No, not John. She fciiciu that. She mustn't let herself pretend even for a minute that this boy she was going to see was John. He was a religious teacher, a Dr. Joseph. But everyone who had seen him — Fay, WUly, Shuffle— had told her, warned her, that he looked exactly like John, had John's walk and John's voice. Ma hadn't wanted to come. She'd been pressured into it. In January the old Hamilton place had been sold, had become Pleasant Haven, a refuge for the bereaved, the heart-sore, the world-weary. Its director was Professor H. B. Bassett, by his own admission an unworldly man, but one of magnetic voice and compelling personality. Gladys, Banker Pendleton's restless, spoiled daughter, had discovered Pleasant Haven first, had been fascinated by it, and by Professor Bassett. She had taken Fay to a "reading" — one of the meetings, and Fay had been shocked at the resemblance between Professor Bassett s young assistant and her dead brother,John. Fay had brought Willy and ShufHe to see for themselves, and yhe three of them had been a long time telling iVIa about It, had told her finally only because they were afraid of the shock she would suffer if she should meet Dr. Joseph accidentally. But by that time Ma herself had oecome involved in Pleasant Haven, unknowingly, without lifting a finger. Professor Bassett wanted to enlarge the retreat, and, oecause it was run entirely by contributions, wanted money from the town to do it. Banker Pendleton was neartily in favor of the plan. He saw people coming irom all over to study and meditate at Pleasant Haven, saw more business for Rushville Center. He saw a erowing tourist trade, saw realty values rising. There were other supporters— Gladys, of course, and through ,5"ys, Fay. Grocer Charley Brown and his wife, after lh» "1 one reading, declared that they had found R>,j.^", "Comfort as they hadn't known since their boy AnS"''* had been killed in the war. /ina yet, the success of the whole plan depended upon tveryone in town knew what Ma's faith meant to everyone asked, "What does Ma Perkins think of her; The story of Ma Perkins' life in Rushville Center is heard d.iily on two networks: 1:15 CBS; 3:15 NBC (EST). mI" 3^f^ by saying nothing, trying to keep out of it. Ma had found her old friends, her very own family turiied against her. Her old friend Mark Matthews, devout and staunchly honest, had told her she was only paying lip service to her religion. Charley Brown said that slie was only trying to hang onto the money Fay naa inherited from her husband. Augustus and Mathilda rendleton said she was a trouble-maker. Mayor Ross said that she was standing in the way of the town's progress. Seems a lot," Mae told Shuffle drily, "for a person whos done nothing but just set." But now here they were in the drawing room at feasant Haven, with an organ playing softly in the distance waiting for the reading to begin. And somehow, all she could think about was John. John, trying to make himself the best basketball player in the state. John, coming to her shyly to ask about his girls. JohnChimes sounded; Ma wrenched herself back to the present as the doors opened and the regular tenants of Pleasant Haven began to fill the room. "Why," she exclaimed, "they're nice looking folks. Shuffle! So sweet of face, such nice expressions! Oh, ShufHe, wouldn't it be nice if this place turned out to be just everything everybody thinks it is? Where they really do good work, and it's sincere and honest, and — " Shuffle leaned forward eagerly. "Ma, you got some idea this place ain't what it's cracked up to be?" But Ma evaded him. "No, Shuffle," she said. "I just don't know nothing at all about it." Shuffle grunted disappointedly. They were interrupted by a sweetfaced old woman, a city woman, from her dress and her manners. "Good evening," she said. "Don't bother to get up — I'll sit here with you. You're new in the abode, aren't you?" "Our first time," Ma agreed. "We live in town, Rushville Center." "Oh, yes." The woman nodded. "Mr. and Mrs. Charles Brown, who are coming to st^y with us — they're from your town, I believe." Ma frowned as Shuffle muttered something that sounded like, "Yep — they're coming soon as Charley sells the Busy Bee and gives all his money to Professor Bassett." "That's right," she said quickly. "My name is Perkins. This is Mr. Shober, Mrs — " "I'm IVIrs. Liss. May the heavenly radiance shine on you, Mrs. Perkins. Every blessing, Mr. Shober." Shuffle turned beet red. "Er — uh — thanii you, I'm sure. And the same to you." "Thank you, Mrs. Liss," said Ma gently. "I take it you live here — you're one of Professor Bassett's students?" "Student." She was gently mocking. "I'm sixty-eight years old — hardly a real student. But the lesson they teach us here is so simple a child could learn it . . . no, maybe not a child. I think you must have lost those you loved the most. Dear Professor Bassett says that only the hungry heart, the grieving heart, is the open heart." "Um," said Shuffle. Ma said sympathetically, "I'm sorry if you've lost dear ones, Mrs. Liss. I — has everyone