._------_- --_. .zz: ~

gram intensified enough to make surethat we could defend ourselves. againstfuture aggression, could at all times pre-serve our independence as a nation, andcould preserve a world in which demoej-;

acy may live.IDr. Edward C. Elliott, "An Educator

Looks at U. M. T.," American LegionMagazine, Vol. 38, No.5, p. 19.

My Brother's RecitalThe big night had arrived. My eight;

year-old brother was to perform on the"eighty-eight" in his first recital. Tonightwas the climax of a month of madness.Four long weeks had seen the rise andfall of the neighbors' patience. Day andnight, night and day, all they heard waspiano, piano, piano! They, as well aswe, almost went mad. It would nothave been too bad if Al could have playedthe piano without making it an instru-ment of torture .. But his brand of musicinvolved no more than two fingers, oneon each hand.

When AI's music teacher first toldhim of the coming recital, Al had almostpassed out of existence from nervousness.He play in a recital? Ridiculous! Wethought so too. But the teacher convincedhim otherwise. As time marched on, hebecame more confident of his abilities:the family gave up trying to discouragehim.

Tonight all the parents and friendsof the students had assembled to endurethe agony with these budding virtuosos.I came prepared to enjoy myself. In onepocket was a deck of cards and in theother a pocket edition of "Captain Hora-tio Hornblower." I had been to theseaffairs before.

The choice of the place for the recitalbordered on the sacrilegious. A fine oldMethodist church was chosen as the vic-tim. A majestic organ maintained itsdignified aloofness in the left corner near

BILL DYE

the pulpit. The piano, unaware of itsimpending disgrace, was placed non-chalantly in the right corner. Dogwoodstared open-eyed from the front of theauditorium at the audience.

When all was ready the pupils march-ed in from the right of the hall. Theline started with the youngest and smallestand climbed up to the tallest -- a girl-who brought up the rear. They took theirplaces gingerly on the front rows andstood until all were in place. Then they

u Iall sat down as one body. The reci awas about to begin.

In spite of my apparent unconcern,ti dI began to get nervous. I had no Ice

that evening before leaving the housethat AI's confidence had left him. He

Captainwas scared. So was I now.k t·Hornblower lay neglected in my poe e ,

the cards were still in the box. I sat onthe edge of the pew and dug my finger-nails into the wood in front of me. I am

anxiety.sure my parents shared myRegardless of my slighting remarks aboutmy brother's -pianistic accomplishment Ireally felt proud of him and was eagerto see him do well.

AI, in the front row, was as pale aswas Brutus upon beholding Caesar'sghost. And I noticed that in his righthand he clutched his music: This recitalwas supposed to be conducted entirelyfrom memory. Why should AI, then, have.his music? He must have gone to piecesso completely that he was afraid to play

44 -

his number without the music in front ofhim.

The first pupil to perform was afour-year-old boy. Too young to haveany fears, he leaped to his feet when hewas announced and with a little assist-ance from the instructor climbed thethree steps to the platform, which ex-tended the width of the auditorium, andpranced across to the piano. He wasplaced on the bench and a box wasshoved under his feet since they couldnot reach the pedals. He played verywell and received a nice ovation. Andso they went _ some nervous, some con-fident, some audacious and some quitefrightened. '

Finally it came time for my brotherto do the honors. Slowly he 'got to hisfeet and climbed to the stage. The familywas now on the edge of the bench withme. I saw mother's hands open and closenervously. Dad ~howed no external signsof e timo ion, but I know he was closelyWatching my younger brother. As if ina trance Al stared for a time at the piano

on the far side of the floor and thenslowly and hesitantly moved toward it,the music still clutched in his hand, hiseyes riveted to the piano. He carefullyplaced the music on the piano and thenturned to face the audience. He placed .,one hand in front of him on his stomachand the other on his back, as if about todo a Scottish hornpipe, and bowed. Thenhe sat down at the piano. His tongueraced back and forth over his lips. Beadsof sweat stood out on his forehead. Thenhe began to play, the m,:,-sic lying openbefore him. Throughout the entire num-ber the family joined with the audience

in holding its breath.He passed the trial with. flying colors.

Not one mistake did he make. When thelast note had sounded, he sat on thebench in a trance while the peoplevigorously applauded. Then he seemed,to come out of the spell. Slowly he raisedhis head, his face now wreathed in smiles.Something queer met his eye. For asecond he stared; then he broke out inlaughter. The music was up-side-down.

Let's Stay Out of It

-,

MARY SCHREmER

Once upon a time a golden hairedprincess lived on the top of a great moun-tain. Now this princess was the ruler ofa kimgdom whose people occupied all theavailable living space on that mountain.Everyone was very happy because theprincess was a good ruler and all desirablecommodities were plentiful.

All about the base of the mountainwere other little kingdoms. One day allthese rulers got into an argument, and sothese kingdoms started a war among them-selves.

Up on the' mountain the princess andher coun '1 hci eard about the war whichwas going on down below. They called a

meeting, and the talk buzzed around fordays and days. In fact, the talk was soloud that even the warring kingdoms couldhear it. After all the discussion dieddown, the princess decided not to enter thewar. Her people were self-sufficient ontheir mountain. It seemed sensible to stay

out of the quarrel.Down at the base of the mountain the

cannons boomed and the rifles shot. Andone day a soldier mis-aimed his cannonand shot at the mountain. Boom! wentthe cannon. When all the smoke cleared,the people down below saw that the king-dom up above had been blown away. Poorprincess, poor council, poor mountain!

-45 -