Radio-TV mirror (July-Dec 1952)

and said, "Tommy Bartlett wants you to tell your story on the show." I was sure I was going to be scared to death, but the next day, when Tommy called us to the microphone, it was like talking to an old friend. He's big and easy and knows what to say. He asked Creeley how much cotton he could pick in a day, and you should have seen Creeley as he said proudly, "A hundred pounds." Then it was my turn to get excited. They gave us presents — clothes for all of us, things for the house we might have someday, things for the baby. But that wasn't all. Tommy said, "Our business manager, Les Lear, has phoned Don Stewart, secretary of the Chamber of Commerce at Benton Harbor. He's going to see if he can have a job waiting for you when you arrive." That turned out to be most important of all, for when Mr. Stewart met our bus, put us up in the hotel for the night and gave us money for meals, he also told us the season wouldn't open yet for a month. However, he'd learned Mr. and Mrs. Rudolph Wesner needed help to plant their crops and get their orchards ready. On their farm, we'd be able to go to work right away. The Wesner farm turned out to be pretty as a park, with a tidy little house where we could live. We liked the Wesners, too. Hard workers both, they let us know right off what was expected of us, but they had a heart about it. How much heart they have showed up sooner than you'd expect. You'd have thought, with our problems solved, I'd have been able to relax, but I wasn't. I couldn't get rid of the feeling our luck was too good to hold. Creeley laughed at me, but I kept having a hunch something was going to happen. It did. I went out in the fields one morning, leaving the baby with Jerline. When I came back for dinner, he was fussy; when I was through that night, frantic Jerline met me at the door. "Jackie Dale is sick," she said. "Awfully sick." I thought he was dead. His skin was bluish and he didn't even move. I don't know what I'd have done if Mrs. Wesner hadn't come to the door just then. She knocked and said, "I brought a couple of jars of home canned vegetables for you. . . ." She saw my face. Tears were streaming down. I couldn't stop them. She flung the door open, got one look at the baby, and ran out shouting for her husband. To me, she said, "This child must have a doctor." When you've lived the life of a sharecropper, needing a doctor and calling one are two different things. "He'll never come," I said. "We can't pay him." "Nonsense," she snapped. "We'll worry about that later. We'll call our family doctor, and if he doesn't want to wait for his money, we'll pay him ourselves." Thankful as I am now, I still hate to think of those next awful days. Our baby, it turned out, had spinal meningitis and pneumonia. The doctor called a pediatrician and the pediatrician rushed little Jackie Dale to the hospital. Then they came out next day to give us all shots so we wouldn't get the meningitis. It was a state law, they told us, and because it was, Jackie Dale would have to stay in the hospital and the state would pay the cost. That really scared me. But I needn't have feared. If Jackie Dale had belonged to the richest family in Benton Harbor, he couldn't have got better care. Even after the baby came home, looking healthier than ever, that care continued. Busy Mrs. Wesner saw to that. Since we had no car and were ten miles out in the Rabbit eye tests prove Zonite's absolute sa/etu to body tissues in feminine hygiene NO OTHER type liquid antiseptic-germicide for the douche of all those tested is SO POWERFUL yet SO SAFE to tissues, For years the need of douching has been ac cepted among better-informed women. Now, thanks to more broadminded and advanced educational facilities — women in all walks of life recognize and gratefully practice vaginal cleanliness. 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