If Our Family Was Poor, Of What

In Middle America Men Are Awakening. Like Awkward And Untrained Boys We Begin To Turn Toward Maturity And With Our Awakening We Hunger For Song. But In Our Towns And Fields There Are Few Memory Haunted Places. Here We Stand In Roaring City Streets, On Steaming Coal Heaps, In The Shadow Of Factories From Which Come Only The Grinding Roar Of Machines. We Do Not Sing But Mutter In The Darkness. Our Lips Are Cracked With Dust And With The Heat Of Furnaces. We But Mutter And Feel Our Way Toward The Promise Of Song.

Next To Occupation Is The Building Up Of Good Taste. That Is Difficult, Slow Work. Few Achieve It. It Means All The Difference In The World In The End.

It Might Be That Women Who Have Beennurses Should Not Marry Physicians. They Have Too Much Respect For Physicians, Are Taughtto Have Too Much Respect

I Go About Looking At Horses And Cattle. They Eat Grass, Make Love, Work When They Have To, Bear Their Young. I Am Sick With Envy Of Them.

Whereas God, For Reasons Of His Own, Sometimes Chooses To Let The Machine Answer. 'the Supreme Being Is Unavailable To Come To The Phone At This Time, But He Wants You To Know What Your Call Is Important To Him. In The Meantime, For Sins Of Pride, Press One. For Avarice, Press Two.