Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

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SOME ~^E3Vs£ IN CASE YOU CARE— The tallest people in the world are found in Denmark, the Scottish Highlands, East Africa, and southernmost South Africa. . . If you live in Michigan or Wisconsin, you can get married for fifty cents — or, anyway, that's what your license to wed will cost you. On the other hand, if you're a resident of North Carolina or Indiana, you have to pay the top price, five bucks per license. . . There's an organization, central offices in Detroit, boasting the fascinating title of "Society For The Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America." . . . There are three parts to a comet: nucleus, coma and tail. . . In 1945, the flag of the President of the United States was somewhat changed — so that, among other things, the eagle on the bronze seal now faces toward the olive branch of peace instead of, as formerly, toward the arrows of war. . . . Benjamin Franklin said it: "Who is wise? He that learns from everyone. Who is powerful? He that governs his passions. Who is rich? He that is content. Who is that? Nobody!" Letter of the Law Dep't — If you live in, or intend to visit, Illinois this coming summer, here are a few tips which may help you to avoid entangling alliances with the gents in the blue coats: In Sullivan, for instance, the law clearly states that women going swimming must wear bloomers reaching below the knees and long stockings. South Park Beach, Chicago, is a iittle more lenient, merely stipulating that female bathing dresses must have sleeves which cover at least a quarter of the arm. And just over the state line, in East Chicago, Indiana, an ordinance comes to grips with the problem of covering up the male figure on the beach. Men, says the law, must wear suits with "skirt effect" or a shirt worn outside trunks, and in any event said trunks must end no farther up than four inches above the knee. READERS' OWN VERSE Gossip Something that is never wise, Something that the good despise, Something that can hurt a friend, Something that should really end, Something one should be above . . . Something I am guilty of. — Richard Wheeler IT HAPPENED ON HOUSE PARTY Linkletter (to five-year-old girl): What do you like to do best? Girl: Play cards — because I get all the aces and jokers and the twos. The twos are wild, you know. Linkletter: You don't say. How come you happen to get all these good cards? Girl: Oh, I sneak them out beforehand! MATUTINAL REFLECTIONS ON AN OVIPAROUS FOWL — It's shortly after breakfast, and I'm sitting, in a mellow mood, thinking about what to write for Nonsense and Some-Sense. What crosses my mind — gems of wisdom, pearls or poesy? No — hens! A lovely bird, the hen. Such a morale-builder she is, bless her little heart, as she sends us off to face the day's tribulations fortified by a good breakfast, the very heart and core of which is a new-laid egg. Or two eggs. Or even, on special occasions such as hunting or fishing trips, three eggs. (I once knew a guy, an ex-fullback, who could do away with seven eggs on a hunting-trip breakfast, but even I think that's overdoing it just a trifle.) What brought on all this philosophy anent the hen and her contribution to our welfare is, of course, the breakfast I just finished. Lois has a special way with eggs, one that would drive me to writing odes if I were a poet. Here's how it works: she butters a little baking dish for each person to be served. Meanwhile she melts butter and top milk together, nicely salted and peppered, in a saucepan — say about a teaspoon of butter and a third of a cup of milk per person. She cuts the crusts off thin-sliced bread and cuts the slices in half. Next, the pieces of bread are dipped in the butter-andmilk mixture and fitted into the dishes, sort of like a piecrust, using two slices of bread per dish. Into each dish go two raw eggs, unbroken, and over the eggs is poured whatever's left of the melted butter and milk. Then into the oven they go to bake — at a very low heat, Lois warns, on account of quick cooking makes eggs leathery — until set to the degree you like them. The ingredients are simple but by some magic, done up this way, they blend into a dish I could eat every day of the week and twice on Sundays. You can dream up a dozen variations, too. The kids — believe it or not — like a layer of spinach in the bottom before the eggs go in. I'm partial to a crumbling of nice, spicy, home-styled sausage meat, browned-up first. Lois's favorite is a thin slice of ham. Sometimes she gilds the lily with a liberal sprinkling of grated cheese over the top. Gosh, I'm hungry all over again, and it's a good three hours till lunch! 25