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Vol. II |
February, 1939 |
No. 2 |
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COMING
The Review is able this month to promise some
tasty dishes for future menus. Among the forthcoming
piéces-de-résistance, already in the editorial mixing
bowl, are Acadians Find Peace in Louisiana, by Wilton P. Ledet, a
native of the state where American cooking was elevated from the status
of a domestic necessity to that of a Fine Art; Sentinel of the
Atlantic's Graveyard, by C. G. Mackintosh, who personally knows a
great deal of the 69-year history of the famous spiral-banded lighthouse
of Cape Hatteras; The Park at Old Guilford Courthouse, by Acting
Superintendent William P. Brandon, and The Facts of Wildlife Are Not
Always True, by Dan Beard, Wildlife Technician, who will tell you
whether porcupines shoot their quills or hoop snakes take tail in mouth
and roll down a hill. Melvin J. Weig, Assistant Research Technician at
Morristown National Historical Park, has agreed to prepare a study on
Hopewell Village, and Willis King, Associate Wildlife Technician in
Great Smoky Mountains National Park, will give you authentic information
on the stocking and taking of fish in the bold streams of that
wilderness area. The Review, shy to a fault, nevertheless
experiences more than its accustomed sensations of pride in announcing
these major gastronomic items and is happy to suggest that some of the
hors-d'oeuvres and like auxiliary dishes also will be appetizing.
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NATIVITY
The matter of being born, it now develops, is
something which abides with you all the days of your life. That
immutable law has been brought, with increasing insistence, to the
attention of many employees since the issuance of the memorandum
directing all workers to supply documentary proof of the date of birth.
The mere fact that one has achieved and survived nativity can be
established with comparative ease but, it now is apparent, the business
of proving, by paper and seal, the exact day of that important
occurrence occasions considerable research and not infrequently some
startling surprises to the person who always had conceded
unquestioningly the family tradition that he or she became a potential
presidential candidate at 4:01 p. m. on Thursday, April 9, 1904, and
that the name was Artaxerxes Marmaduke Jones or Minnie Cleopatra Smith.
Surprises in the Region One headquarters included those of respectable
employees who discovered that, contrary to previous reckonings:
1. He was two years older;
2. He was one year younger;
3. His birthday was in another month;
4. His first name, borne by five Polish
kings and one patron saint, had been misspelled all along;
5. Her calling cards bore a middle name
never pronounced at baptism;
6. She was, fortunately, six months
over-generous in the age which she had always admitted.
If you started out to save this somewhat confusing
world in a county where your arrival was not legally noted, it will be
helpful if the Census jotted you down. It may be pointed out, however,
that the harassed Bureau right now is busy certifying the birthday of
every
U. S. relief laborer. "Yea, verily," the prophet hath
said, "ye must be born again!" --- H. R. A.
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