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Graeve, Oscar (ed.) / Delineator
Vol. 118, No. 6 (June, 1931)
Alyea, Dorothy Collins
June days, pp. 58-59
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Page 58
' DELINEATOR Enough Hires Extract to make 8 BOTTLES of d. -licious HIRES ROOT BEER. JUSt rnail the coupon below. 5A' End the High Cost of Beverages. Change to Hires Root Beer TaiisK of it-thi= deliciou beerage for only lie a bottle. What a saving compared to what you usually pay! A wonderful flavor-refreshing, invigor- ating. Yet not costly. One of the very finest beverages at a fraction of the usual price. May we prove this by sending you a free trial bottle of Hires Extract, from which you can make 8 bottles of Hires Root Beer? You and your family will love the dis- tinctive, appealing flavor of Hires Root Beer, its refresaing, invigorating results. If the trial delights you and your family, then for 30c at all dealers you can buy a full-size bottle of Hires Extract-it makes 40 bottles of Hires Root Beer. Millions of families all over the Nation are enjoying this famous, thirst-quenching beverage, containing the juices of 16 roots, barks, berries and herbs--Nature's invigor- ating and healthful ingredients. Absolutely pure-free from artificial color and flavor. Mail the coupon at once for free trial bottle of Iires Extract-or order a full-size 30c bottle from your dealer today. 35c in Canada. At Fountains and from Hires Kegs, you can get Hires Root Beer by the clas-. Also it comes already bottled. PI sce me free sampic of Hircs Root Ise Extract. IAddress ......................... . Z;--------------- - -- -- Canadians may aail coupon to The Charde E Hires Ca, Lid., Toroto GRADUATION FOR PARENTS Continued from page 7 to enter the field of delicate and dangerous dogma; and when the last chapter was finished, my listener, who had been not only receptive to, but absorbed in the match- less narrative of the Great lhvsician, re- marked feelingly. "I don't see why my own mother didn't tell me all that long ago." I did not see myself. And I knew, charming and cultured as his mother is, that I should never feel she had passed beyond the pri- mary grades in parenthood. FEEL the same way about a still more fas- cinating woman, who so far betrayed her chi!Iren's every trust that they never vol- untarily saw her again after they were grown; about a "perfect housekeeper" whose in- sistence upon immaculate order, undis- turbed by stumpy young feet tracking in mud, robbed her children of their heritage of hospitality; about a dainty butterfly whose exquisite attire spelled shabbiness for every other member of her family and cast the grim shadow of debt over the household. All these women took beautiful physical care of their babies; nevertheless, they were incapable of earning degrees in parenthood. But many do earn them, of course-a great many, fortunately. It is after they have graduated that the hardest tests, and the most frequent failures occur. And it is to parents facing such tests and fearing such failures that I am venturing to try to speak, feeling that we share a common problem. For my own children, around whom my whole existence centered for so many yearp, have all grown up now; two of them have already struck out into the world, the third is poised for flight. I must try to face life as a graduate parent. And I want to do it successfully if I can. It seems to me that we graduate parents must, first of all, permit our children to re- joice in that sense of new-found freedom and opportunity which is so precious to them, conscious that they may always turn to us for help if they wish or want it, yet un- hampered by any word or deed of ours. They regard their independence as their birthright, a birthright which they believe we ourselves enjoyed a generation ago; and if their unbe- lief is unfounded on fact, all the more reason why we, remembering how we suffered in having our spreading wings clipped, should let our children soar untrammeled, It is very hard to do this, much harder than anything JUNE DAY S by DOROTHY COLLINS ALYEA April is a sweet month, May is a better. In June I would not read a book Or write a letter. April speaks of crocuses, May of budding trees, But June cries out of butterflies And bumble bees. April shivers slightly, May is still too cold, But June can warm the silly heart That's growing old. we had to do before we graduated. And we feel they could learn so much by past experi- ence, if they would only let us tell them about this-forgetting that "that of sterling worth is what our on experience teaches." We feel that love nmust express itself in solicitude- a survival of our primary period-that if we may not spoon out junket and shut down windows any more, we may at least issue warnings against rapid driving and unde- sirable companions and profitless pursuits. We feel that surely our presence, if not our counsel, should seem essential to them and need to steel ourselves against doubting the loyalty of their affections-which actually we have neither cause nor right to do-when we discover that it is not. A woman I know very well, whose only son has been for many years her constant and congenial companion, told me recently that when this young man left home, after a brief final vacation, to begin the practice of medi- cine in a city several hundred miles away, she suggested that she should make the trip with him in the small battered motor-car which, by dint of much personal economy, she had managed to give him. "I can take the train back, you know," she said eagerly. "I really wouldn't mind the return journey a bit. And you would have company when you start out." "Oh, mother," he exclaimed impetuously, "don't you know that when a knight goes out on his great adventure he always goes alone?" He paused a moment, then added still more impetuously, "And there is always a beauti- ful young princess waiting to wave to him from a tower." "All right, dear," his mother said, feeling rather proud of her self-control, "only just be sure she is a real princess." "Oh, mother," exclaimed the boy again, 'didn't you ever hear of princesses in disguise? And don't you know the knight may see through the disguise when nobody else could?" IN THIS little story lies much of the logic of youth-the logic which the successful gradu- ate mother must respect and try to compre- hend. She must let the knight ride out alone on his high adventure; she must let him look for the princess in a tower; and she must take his word for it when he says he has found a real princess even though the disguise seems very complete. If the knight's mother can- not do all this, she is not a noblewoman. Next, having given our children the boon of freedom, creating at least the illusion that we are glad to give it even though actually we have not been able to achieve as much as that, it seems to me that we should strive to make them feel that we ourselves are, in spirit and sympathy, just as close to them as we were when we tucked them into bed every night and brought them drinks of water and heard their prayers. The graduate mother who is delivered from the temptation of trying to regulate her grown children's lives for them must still pray to be delivered from the opposite temptation-less frequent, probably, but still general enough to be a menace-of giving the impression that she has now done her full duty by them, that she has scrimped and saved and sacrificed as long as she intends to do so, that they need look for nothing more from herself and their father in the way of needing material assistance or equally needed moral support, as their parents now propose to have a little pleasure and respite of their own. Boys and girls who have grown up with the fixed idea that they could depend upon the stability of their parents' affection and co- operation in much the same way that they could depend upon the stability of the Rock of Gibraltar, are often horribly puzzled and deeply hurt by such an attitude. They see no reason why the mere incidental fact that they have grown up should suddenly shatter the stability on which they have counted so long; and in the shock of the discovery that it has, a deadly seed of discord is often sown. The (lay is past, if it ever really existed, when children respect their parents and feel under tbligations to them because of the bare fact that they owe the gift of life to them. They are inclined-not without reason-to argue that they were brought into the world through no choice of their own, and that the responsibility for their existence, since it rests wholly with the authors of their being, en- tails a far greater debt than they should ever be expected to pay. They are not inclined to regard the elementary necessities provided during their childhood as causes for special appreciation; they take these for granted as the evidences of a decent and enlightened civilization. But they respond with over- whelming spontaneity to real generosity, real sacrifice and real companionship; and their gratitude becomes deeper and more under- standing the older they grow. All this brings me to the contention that the graduate years should be joyous and not doleful ones for parents. During the primary period we were constantly saying, not com- plainingly, but still with eager anticipation, "Well, of course we can't do thus and so and the other now." And yet, after the children have grown up a long lament arises, "Of course when 1\ary and Frank were still with us we were very happy; but now that we've lost them both, we've really lost everything worth living for." One would think, to hear such parents talk, that Frank had been sentenced to life-im- prisonment for murder, that lary had eloped with her best friend's husband, or that both had been blown to bits in an explosion of gasoline. While, as a matter of fact, Frank is probably the proud proprietor of the grocery store just around the corner, and 1Mary lives with her pleasant husband and three plump infants in the other half of the double house occupied by the bereaved fath r and mother' Be this as it may, the graduate parents usually still have many active years- the best years of all ahead of them- " the last of life for which the first was made." The de- velopment and establishment of their family, which they strove so long and so faithfully to accomplish, is achieved. Certainly this should be a source of happiness and not of sorrow' Certainly we should be ashamed to confess to a viewpoint so restricted that it causes us to insist we cannot enjoy our children unless they are dependent and helpless! Certainly our love for them should be strong enough to stand separation and sharing! '\nd certainly from the wisdom and mellowness which oniv maturity and experience, combined with parenthood, can bring us, we should be able to fill to overflowing the silver chalice of abundant life! THERE is a woman for whom I have un- bounded respect and affection whose hus- band-a struggling country clergyman-died leaving her with a small son and no visible means of support when she was well over forty. She had had several other children, who were already almost grown up, just be- ginning to be able to take care of themselves, but not able to take care of her, too. The "little Benjamin," who was so much younger than his brothers and sisters, and she were practically alone in the world and practically "tn their own." It was soon very evident to her that her child was one of great and re- markable promise; and she determined that whatever she went without, he should have the best kind of education obtainable. She moved to a town where there was a super- latively good preparatory school, and by dint of living with the utmost frugality succeeded in sending him to it as a day-pupil. He grad- uated when he was only sixteen, the recipient of every medal and prize which the school could bestow, gloriously healthy and hand- some and strong. I never shall forget his mother as she looked on (Turn to page 60) FREE -58
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