Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1950)

I Love Ladies (Continued from page 31) Woods there was a parcel post package. She found out what I meant when I kissed her. Mine was no kid smack. It was the real thing, and when I caught my own breath, I announced, "Just as soon as I get old enough, I'm going to marry you." Coolly, Bo replied, "That seems like a good idea." Next day, I went out and traded my bearskin coat for a Model T. Transportation, I decided, was absolutely essential if I were to pursue my courtship. The car's first trip was to take Bo to a movie at nearby Sullivan. When a long freight train blocked our road, I kissed her again and gulped, "Let's go steady." Going steady lasted two weeks. Then I concluded that Bo (aged twelve) was getting serious, so I bolted. I saw to it, however, that my sister Betty became her best friend. I didn't intend to lose sight of that girl. My next years were tumultuous ones. I finished high school at fifteen, was sent to Marion Military Institute, got an appointment to Annapolis Naval Academy and remained two years. Transferring to DePauw University at Greencastle, Indiana. I worked one night a week in a campus band. Then, when I was nineteen, my father died. As soon as I came home, my uncle, who was a judge, sat me down to talk over my new responsibilities. "Tom," he advised, "give up these crazy ideas about bands and show business. You're now head of the family. You must buckle down and take over your father's affairs." I thought of my mother and my sister. I thought, too, about my hopes of Bo, and I agreed. That was 1932, and it didn't take me long to discover that what until recently had been a flourishing real estate and insurance agency had been hard hit by the depression. But I pitched in. I worked like a slave, and for me it was slavery. I stood it until August 13, 1933. That day I phoned the drug store where Bo was working and said, "This is my twentyfirst birthday. Today I'm old enough. When do we get married?" Bo set the date for August thirtieth. As our honeymoon, we went to the Century of Progress in Chicago, then returned to Mattoon to settle down in a four-room apartment. I can still enumerate the furnishings. There was my set of drums, my mother's sofa and piano, Grandmother Moore's old dresser, a bed we bought ourselves, Mother Woods' discarded dinette set, one skillet, one kettle, and enough china and crystal to serve a formal dinner for fifty. Ironically, in that depression year, when we needed virtually every household item we might name, our friends gave us dishes and glassware. It was beautiful stuff and we still have it — but right then, Bo and I admit, we wished we could swap it for maybe a dishpan. Skimpy as our kitchen equipment was, Bo made the best possible use of it. She already knew something about ■cooking and she learned more. At the same time Bo was learning to keep house, I started serious study of the insurance business. In order to come home and boast to Bo, I entered every national contest my companies sponsored and I won a respectable number of them. We had just one really deep disap outwalk, r \uisiaJL Tacts z 6EE//TS SMELL T0B£/f8L£ TO ' 4 7ALK7HM6S0teXNmtYW,M0M. AL/PABOI/E ALL ELSE, REMEMBER THESES A WO/MAW OEFEMSEGRAI/EZ r//A/V SAP BZEATff oRSOpyopoz Isn't it nice to live in this modern age where old bugaboos and false modesty can be tossed out the window and a mother can speak freely to her daughter about hygiene (internal cleanliness). A modern mother won't fail to tell her grown-up daughter it's just as important for her to put zonite in her fountain syringe for her health, charm, and after her periods, as it is for an older, married woman. 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