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82 WINNETKA TALK March 3, 1928 WINNETKA TALK ISSUED SATURDAY OF EACH WEEK by LLOYD HOLLISTER, INC. 3 + 564 Lincoln Ave. Winnetka, Ill Chicago office: 6 N. Michigan Ave. Tel. State 6326 Telephone............. Winnetka 2000 or Wilmette 4300 SUBSCRIPTION PRICE. .............. $2.00 A YEAR All communications must be accompanied by the name and address of the writer. Articles for pub- lication must reach the editor by Thursday noon to insure appearance in current issue. Resolutions of condolence, cards of thanks, obitu- aries, notices of entertainments or other affairs where an admittance charge is published, will be charged at regular advertising rates. ; E The commodious new home of Lloyd Hollister Inc. on Central Avenue in Wil- mette will be formally dedicated on the afternon and evening of March 3 to the important and ; highly interest- ing work of publishing North Shore news and printing North Shore material of every description. And to aid in this significant event all the friends of the house of Hol- lister have been invited to be present. Those who come, and we expect many, will be surprised, we hope, by the spacious- ness of our home. In comparison with our tiny two-flat structure east of the alley our new plant is a giant. Our equipment, though greatly increased, is not crowded and there 1s plenty of room to meet de- mands of several years to come. Next, we trust that you will notice how much of health-giving sunlight and air can find entrance into our various rooms and offices. Metal casement windows furnished with copper screens and vene- tian blinds not only make our work more enjoyable and efficient but add to the good looks of our surroundings. Our house will be on our reception day as neat as a new pin, and as you know nothing can be neater than a nice new pin. Our walls and even our floors will be im- maculate. Our machines will be so free from outward ink and grease that not the slightest smudge can attach itself to the early spring gowns of our lady visitors. We sincerely hope that you will like our housewarming. Our Housewarming On March 3 The other day we read in a well-known weekly magazine an article which main- tained that of all places in which one might live the Why Live suburbs were the worst. Live in the In the Suburbs? city or live in the country, advised the writer, but don't live in the suburbs. The suburbs of a city are a sort of half- way place, not a place where, as in the city, one can conveniently get to theaters, lecture halls, and museums; nor are they, like the country, right next to nature's heart, amongst fields and woods. So why live in the suburbs? The author of the article went on to point out other unpleasant features of suburban life. To get to the city and back to the suburbs one must make a long dis- agreeable railroad journey twice every day. And even when one got back to his. nice little suburban home he found him- self in the midst of neighbors whom he didn't like but with whom he was obliged to be on decent terms. It was more im- possible for him to be alone in the suburbs than it was in the city. ; We're sorry for the writer of this sad story. She--it was a woman--must have had some bitter suburban experiences. Maybe she had neighbors who mowed their own lawns at 6 a. m. or who enter- tained noisily until early morning. Doubt- less she was not a very sociable individual and hated children. No wonder she doesn't want to go back. : We love the suburbs. We can easily name objections to both city and country. But the suburbs for us every time. Round about Washington's Birthday there are to be found in the daily papers such headlines as "School Children Honor Washington" a nd "Clubwomen Pay Tri- bute to Father of Country." These mem- orial exercises consist mainly of speeches about Washington and suitable music. Honor George Washington? Of course our first president died over one hundred years ago and so cannot be the direct object of this honor and tribute. He cannot mn any way be affected by these exercises. So far as we know he is far be- yond the influences of earthly events. If the real George Washington was not praised by school children and clubwomen, what was it that happened at these meet- ings? To tell the exact truth the words and music were heard by none except those present. Wouldn't it be in the interests of accur- acy to say that the children and women spoke and sang to each other about George Washington? He was not benefited in the slightest by what occurred at these meet- ings. But without doubt the women and children were greatly helped. By stopping all these talks about hon- oring Washington and paying a tribute to Lincoln and stating the facts of the case we shall be emphasizing the value of the dead to the living generation. One of our northern acquaintances who wrote to us recently from Florida said that she found Florida cold and expensive. This doesn't make us feel the least little bit sad, because we always like to believe that where we happen to be at any given time is the best place to be. If we had been told that Florida was balmy and economical we should now be envying somewhat those northerners who had been fortunate enough to be visiting there at present. The co-operation shown between our township high school and the parents of the high school boys and girls goes far towards making our communities not only what they are now but what they will be- come, namely, models for the entire coun- try. When people, engaged in the im- portant and joint enterprise of making our country the great democracy it is capable of becoming, co-operate, a red-letter day will have dawned. A dweller in Glencoe has trained a can- ary, an ordinary yellow canary, to sing tunes. Just how she did it we don't know, but she did it, and now that small bundle of golden feathers can warble a human tune or two. Isn't it wonderful? There is still hope for even the most unmelodious of us and our monotone friends. SHORE LINES MY SOUVENIRS The memories of starlit summer nights Aglow with joys and happiest delights-- The memories of rainy afternoons Resplendent with love's gay alluring tunes-- The memories of snowy winter eves-- Will ne'er desert my lonely soul, nor leave My yearming being. But to my loneliness The melodies of memories bring sweet caress. They are my souvenirs. Crushed petals lie within my memory bov-- Some roses, pansies, e'en some hollyhocks-- A handkerchief--a little silver case-- And 'way far down, a bit of crumpled lace-- Some letters written by a dainty hand-- Some trinkets I alone can understand-- ; They all lie there to sadly comfort me, Locked fast within my box of memory. They are my souvenirs. --The Piscator. See You Saturday! Pleased we will be indeed to welcome the small army(?) of Line readers to our "Open House" this Saturday afternoon and evening, (March 3,) between the hours of 2 P. M. and the fag end of the evening. We'll be here to greet you heart- ily upon the occasion of the most gladsome event in the history of our sanctum sanctorum. Numer- ous surprises are promised all who enter our portals that day, not the least of which will be something very special now in course of prepara- tion by "Gin," the editorial canine, type-eating terrier, or what have you. Join the throng and make yourself and selves thoroughly at home! Well, Well, Here's Shorty! Shorty, the affluent news vender, is enjoying a few weeks in the company of Al Kipp, who has been judging (and occasionally misjudging) rapid horseflesh in New Orleans. All of which has pro- duced the following, to wit: Al--"How did you like the Mardi Gras?" Shorty--"Not so good, I guess she's still run- ° ning." Mirrors They, the marrors, tell the truth, Tell when age has conquered youth, Show the wrinkles left by pain, Also those of sorrows train. Yet, like the world they do not see What is best in you and me. See but surface weakness, power, Not true greatness born each hour. For they cannot show the mind, Grown each day more thoughtful, kind, Cannot show 'neath haggard cheek, Snow white soul and heart so meek. --Alice Northway Miller. Born to the Task In the event you are more than mildly interested: Norcisens Ferraro conducts a gardening business in encoe. And Our Other Socks? It may as well be reported now (lest we be scooped on our own story)--the tale of the mys- terious burglary in which our very own newest neckwear, the goods we purchased last Dollar Day, was filched from our securely bolted domi- cile. All the while we had suspected a '*'ketch" somewhere in these generous bargain-day offer- ings. The report that Paul Mac is the master mind in this theft sensation and that our pet cra- vats are even now reposing on his counters, has been emphatically denied by him. Bill, the cruel, is investigating and we hope soon to have some choice scandal for your alert auricular cavities. And, while the burglars burgled merrily on, Gin, running as ever true to form, was strutting his stuff at the neighbors. Speaking of crimes and criminals, Chief Charlie tells the one about the Kentucky sheriff who wired back in response to a request to apprehend a fugitive: "What's the reward?" And the other one about the chief who dispatched six varied photos of a Negro criminal to various parts of the country only to hear from the constable of a small hamlet in Dixie: "We got five of your men and expect to have the other fellow by morning." And yet again: Welcome, thrice welcome ! --Mique.