Radio-TV mirror (July-Dec 1952)

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PERIODIC PAIN It's downright foolish to suffer in silence every month. Let Midol's 3-way action bring you complete relief from functional menstrual distress. Just take a Midol tablet with a glassof water... that'sall. Midol relieves cramps, eases headacheand chases the"blues". FREE 24-page book, "What Women Want to Know", explains menstruation. (Plain Wrapper). Write Dept. B-112, Box 280, New York 18.N.Y. mi 00 WITH All Drugstores R M 78 We Count Our Blessings (Continued from page 47) who is four, kept running over to the lunch counter, their eyes big as saucers. Every time Creeley went after them, they'd start in again. "Pa, can I have my dime for candy?" "Pa, how many doughnuts can I get for a dime?" "I want my dime, Pa. The dime the soldier gave me." I felt bad for the boys, but I felt worse for Creeley. I heard a stranger say, "Why don't they feed those kids?" Creeley made out like he never heard, but I saw his hand go deep into the pocket of his torn blue jeans like he wanted to make certain the dimes were safe. Those two dimes from the soldier and one other dime of our own were every cent we had in the world. And all poor Creeley could say was, "Now you fellows take it easy. Wait till we get to Michigan." Michigan. Every hope, every dream, we'd ever had was wrapped up in that one word. The dream began back in Mississippi soon after Creeley came to the plantation where I was picking cotton. We took to each other right off. One thing I liked about Creeley was his way of turning a joke instead of griping. Like when he'd try to make up for not being able to read nor write so much as his own name, by saying, "But I sure can listen to the radio." What he lacked other ways he made up in gumption. He always tried to outwork men twice his size and even before our crops were finished, I knew the kind of man he was. Long before he got around to saying, "I ain't never going to be no millionaire, but I'd sure try to make you a good husband," I knew he was the man for me. We got married and he went to ploughing at Rosedale. It was four mules to one person and the pay was three dollars a day, but Creeley kept at it. Even when all tuckered out, he'd say, "I sure want my kids to have a better life than I've had." Yet, as the children came, that promise got harder and harder to keep. Picking cotton by the hundred, moving around from place to place, we never rightfully could call anywhere home. To send the girls to school, there's many a time Creeley and I went without eating just so as we could buy at the second-hand store a dress they would take turns wearing. We were doing good if we could make so much as thirty-six dollars a month, but we kept looking for ways to better ourselves. Creeley, squaring his shoulders, would say, "There must be a place where a hard-working man can take proper care of his family." Then came the day the place had a name. Michigan. It was funny how we made up our minds. We'd run into people who had been up there picking fruit, but I guess we never believed their stories until the mother of a friend of ours came back South for a visit. She brought a dozen jars of homecanned cherries with her. She gave us one. Long after the last spoonful was eaten and the kids had gone to sleep, Creeley and I sat talking. It would be wonderful, we thought, not only to have enough for yourselves, but some left over to give away. That's how we decided to go. Benton Harbor, people told us, was the city to head for. It took us two years to save up money to start out. We thought of hitchhiking but feared we'd get separated or stranded. Our old car wouldn't make it, so we sold that for twenty-five dollars. After we'd bought bus tickets, we had six dollars and forty-two cents left. We were down to ten cents by the time we got into Chicago and the soldier gave the boys a dime each. •That was thirty cents. How can you feed four active children and a baby on thirty cents? It wasn't so bad while we kept moving, but in the depot, with three hours to wait between buses, we were all getting hungrier, dirtier, more tired. Once I thought of buying some rolls and dividing them up. Creeley shook his head. "We got no way of knowing what we'll run into at Benton Harbor." Benton Harbor. The name which had been a promise was turning into a cruel lure. I knew something was going to happen. We'd never make it. At the last stop, Jerline had copied me and said she wasn't hungry. Now her face had gone dead white. For one crazy minute, I thought of crossing to the well-dressed woman who sat near us and saying, "Please, ma'am, can you give me a dollar? My big girl is going to faint, my baby's crying, my boys think we're being mean. We need your help." I got so far as to push myself up from the seat. Then I knew Creeley would never stand for it. All Creeley had left in the world was his pride. But my children were hungry. It was a bitter choice. And then it happened. A tall, handsome -^ * stranger stepped up and said, "I'm from Welcome Travelers." It didn't register. Nothing makes much sense when your stomach is gnawing and you're getting light-headed. Talking to Creeley, he asked where we came from, where we were going. Surprisingly, Creeley, who usually is so closemouthed, told him. His name was Milt Parlow, the stranger said, then asked, "How would you like to come over to Welcome Travelers? You've heard our show, haven't you?" Heard it? Many's the time I'd listened in, envying the fascinating people who told their stories to Tommy Bartlett. It never occurred to me we might actually see it. Seeing big shows didn't happen to people like us. But this Milt Park v offered some tickets. I held my breath, hoping Creeley would accept them. If we could go there, we'd forget about being hungry. Creeley saw the eagerness in my face, but he said, "Sounds pretty good to me. Only, do we have time?" The booming loudspeaker announcing our bus answered him. Mr. Parlow heard it, too. "Tell you what let's do. You take a later bus. You can have lunch at Welcome Travelers. Then, since you're all so tired, we'll get you a room at the Sherman Hotel where you can clean up and rest a little while." Food, a place to wash, a chance to rest. I wondered if he had any idea how heavenly that sounded. I spoke up. "Please, Creeley, let's go." I'd never seen a room like Mr. Parlow took us to. There were soft lights, deep carpets, and a long table just filled with good food. Mr. Parlow gave the boys each a plate. "Be sure you eat plenty. You've got a long way to go yet and we don't want you getting hungry on the bus." I wondered if he had any idea what that food meant to us. The color came back to Jerline's face, the baby stopped crying, the boys just sat down and went at it. As we ate, people came by and asked us questions. Then Mr. Parlow returned