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The Daily Tribune
Thoughts Column
October 28, 1930


Favors Detective, Wild West, Sea Tales and Constructive Yarns.


By Harry Austin Clapp


This has nothing to do with things I love. It is only a tale of likes. I like many things in this world, but I love only a few. Quite a difference between liking and loving, for one means "to be pleased in a moderate degree: to approve; to enjoy," while the other means "to regard with affection, as to love our children and friends."


My great love is for my home and my family and my kin folks. For these I have a passion not in any way akin to like. I like books and among them detective stories, wild west , sea tales, mining and rail--and here is the if--IF they are well stuffed with description, for example: like Zane Grey, Peter B. Kyne. The Squaw Woman by Arthur Stringer, running in the Saturday Evening Post is a good illustration. I also like some of the classics and read them with enjoyment and profit. I like good music, preferably by a band, orchestra or pipe organ, and in that line my taste runs mostly to the classical for I receive slight relish, twang or enjoyment from the lighter forms of music. I like the music of the trees, the waves, and there is something in the thunder of a heavy sea that transports me. I like the music of birds and the chatter and laugh of kiddies. I like corn beef and cabbage, ribs of beef with browned potatoes, vegetables of all kinds, broiled ham if it is the "kind that am," bacon and eggs straight up; the famous Carrie Nelson noodles; buckwheat cakes with plenty of Morning Glory butter.

          I like German, Mexican and Kosher dishes, and I have a desire for cheese of any kind and all varieties, including Edam, imported Swiss, Limburger, Pecorino Roamana, Roquefort, Muenster, Camembert, Pimento, Parmisello. I think at times the more furrin' the better.

          I like most all kinds of pie but second give good old pie, spelled, "pumpkin." Today I absorbed gooseberry pie, made by a mistress of pie making, meaning the miserable wretch.

          I like pictures provided they tell me a story and with a picture I like to know the name of the artist and the tale of his life, his struggles, his success. A picture must be a good one with plenty of life and color to please me, for I have no fondness for cheap daubs or imitations.

          One of the finest things I have ever seen was a painting about four by six inches, depicting Napoleon leaving for his last exile home. How sad he looked, as he gazed for the last time at the shores of France, and the English officers, who stood in the near background seemed to share his unhappiness. Valued at $1,000, I liked it and I see it now, and always shall. That is one thing about good music, books, pictures, the memory remains and for ever brings new thrills.

          I like flowers, wild ones best, and I delight in walking the primrose way to the post office in the spring and now that fall is here it is the daisy road for me as I pass and each nod is an acknowledgment of God who made us both.

          All the spring and summer months we have had flowers picked in the pasture and by the road side and now that fall is here another crop of beautiful blooms is here, for those who will pluck them. Many wild grasses appeal to me and placed artistically beautify our home. It is wonderful how many beautiful decorative flowers and grasses are available if one will but observe.

          I like to watch the clouds and see in them the many pictures. I like birds of all kinds and have no desire to destroy. I like animals especially Holstein cattle. I like, aye, I love dogs but this is a tale of likes so let the dog go for another time. I like men and women and children and I delight in intimate association with many of them.

          I like a cob pipe filled with "R. J. R." when I cannot have English smoking tobacco. I like to sit before a good fire at my fireplace and enjoy a pipe with a friend. I like that time of the day when "the lights are lit" and I sit in my easy chair with a good book. I like to read and perhaps average three hours every day in this manner. I like to write and I like to talk. I like to travel on first class trains with luxurious Pullmans and diners. I like to stop in hotels of the better class and I enjoy the food and service and never begrudge the price. I like theaters, but prefer the legitimate, although I enjoy the movies, the silent best. I like to see men and women of the stage portray human action. I like comedy especially the musical variety.

I like good wine, preferably Sauterne of about 1890, and I like beer, ale, stout, but will let the whiskey go by to the prescription counter and when prescribed dump it in the sink. I can take it when disguised as an Alabam, but give me the jug of wine, a leafy bough, a good book, and thou.


I like to walk in the pastures, idle by the shore, listening, hearing, seeing many strange and interesting things. Such walks take me where autos do not go and I return well paid and filled with new thoughts. I like to be alone sometimes every day for then I carouse with myself.


I think it right and good for men to be alone in personal communion, casting up the debits and credits of one's life, so I liked to be alone at times. When the time is up, I am more than ever thankful to come back and hear the voice of my miserable wretch and my very own daughter. I like to do public work for it makes me feel that after all I have a chance to be of service and it gives me an impression that "I am sitting by the side of the road and being a friend of man."


It is a fine feeling, almost an emotion, a sensation of joy.


This is not a complete capitulation of an enumeration of all the things I like. Only a few but they serve with the others to bring me much pleasure, happiness, satisfaction, which I am only too willing to share with others. One of our girls went away to school, may be it was to the Bay City high, but any way she left home as plain Jessie. This is not her real name of course. After she had been away from home two weeks, she wrote a letter to her home folks and signed it "Jessica." Her father was a plain, prosperous farmer and he replied thusly: "Dear Jessica: We have received your welcome letter and it was goodica. Mamica and Tomica are quite well. Tomica has a new friend named Samica Jonesica. Aunt Maryica and Uncle Georgica have gone to Michiganica. Your loving, Dadica."


This really happened in our burg. Who? Make a guess? Will wonders never cease.


I have just read that soon a combine will be used for harvesting rice. It has been given a test in the rice fields near Beaumont and soon it will be used in the "Magic Bottle." It is new to us, but not new to our old friend Isaiah, for 705 years before Christ, he forecast this machine when he wrote "Behold, I will make thee a new sharp, threshing instrument, having teeth; thou shalt thresh the mountains and beat them small, and shall make the hills as chaff. Thou shalt fan them, and the wind shalt carry them away, and the whirlwind shall scatter them: and thou shalt rejoice in the Holy One of Israel."


If you don't believe it read, Isaiah XXXXI: 15-16.


I read in O. O. McIntyres column that one of his real thrills was the interviewing of Myrtle Peak. This famous, or infamous girl, came from my home country and used to winter in my town and I knew her well and I know that O. O. must have had a thrill for she was a superlative thriller. Beautiful in face and figure, she knew how to stir men with passionate thrills. She had what is known as "It." I have enjoyed some of Myrtle's thrills, which were rather expensive, but cheap at the price, for they were thrilling. Myrtle has for years been resting in a country church yard, so God rest her resting soul. With all she did in life, she was a good fellow, a good sport, so I hope she went where the good sports go, and with her the four white horses she used in her exhibitions, and O, her white tights for without them she would not be Myrtle Peak.


Will robbers never cease? One of them, may be two or three, broke into the canning factory and took away eight buckets. They must be cow milkers. Docyor Van Wormer better employ a night watchman for Arthur Soekland is too busy these nights looking after Donald Lee. One of the sweetest young girls enjoyed a birthday last week and she being a girl of more than common sense, only wished for two things: a pair of garters and a subscription to the Geografic Magazine. I know what she wants the garters for, but why in the world does she want the magazine?


Well, anyway, few girls of her age have such excellent literary taste and I commend her for it. Many or our girls would have asked for "True Stories," "Love's Message," or some other destructive mental dope.


Last week we Homecrofters had an enjoyable visit with "Monty," the new county agent. Looks like he was starting in all right ad we hope he will come often to Homecroft. Saturday night there came over the "nine-foot sidewalk" Emma Lee Lewis Cartlon, her mother, son and brother, for a too brief a visit with us. We sure do enjoy visits with these good folks, the only fly in the ointment being their briefness. These folk always have something to say worth hearing.


Emma Lee has almost promised to bring electric service to the "Magic Bottle." It is good news to know that Gustave Franzen is on the gain and almost recovered to a normal condition. A colored gentleman went into the Collegeport Pharmacy the other day, enquired prices on many goods, including that sodelicious ice cream and at last said "are you the boss?" Hugo informed him that he was when Hattie was away, and then he pulled out a two-bit piece and asked for 5 nickels. Had he been bright he would have asked for six which Hugo would have given.


Mamie Franzen home again for the week end and glad to be back. Mamie is a regular homing pigeon and cows and cotton and corn look gooder to her than books.


Friday several men and women engaged in mission work for the Presbyterian church will be here for an evening meeting. At 6 p.m. a community dinner will be served with chicken pie as the "piece de resistance."


Unless they have a dishpan full of the famous Carrie Nelson noodles, I don't believe I will attend.


It is impossible for me to absorb religious dope with only chicken pie in my tummy.


Speaking of the movement for the Presbyterian church to merge with the Episcopal church the miserable wretch said, "I can see how Presbyterians can become Episcopalians, but I am not able to see any Episcopalian becoming Presbyterians." She is one good "High Church Woman."


No solutions to the cotton problem, from any rural pupil, so I have an idea that it is easier to get spending change from good old dad and that no rural pupil in this county needs a dollar and for that reason the offer is withdrawn, until we really have a taste of hard times. I am disappointed for I really had no better use for that beautiful frog skin.


Saturday night a bunch of young people including Dorothy Franzen, Louise Walter, Miss Nestor and their dearies, romped down to Portsmouth and enjoyed an oyster roast on the beautiful shell beach. With the new moon, the glittering waves, the smooth beach, romance struts so the girls watch out or bells will ring.


The Daily Tribune, Tuesday, October 28, 1930



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