My Readings of Interest to Women in Foreign Magazines and Books

It has been said: man is a word. And I say today that the person who does not live a great part of his life with the word is no human being, but nearer to the animal, which knows nothing of life beyond the life of the body and its demands. The word is a piece of the spirit, a breath of the soul, and no creature possesses spirit and soul except man. By "spirit" here I do not mean what we understand from its common sense — that capacity for the continuation of life — but rather, beyond that, the power that distinguishes man, raising him above this earth and bringing him nearer to the Almighty Creator through intellectual elevation and spiritual perfection, eternal and everlasting.

As for me — ladies and gentlemen — I am one of those who live three-quarters of their time with the letter, and I find no pleasure to equal the pleasure of reading and the rapture of thought. If I were asked to present the sum of what I have read in a month, no short while would suffice me to do so. Let us then sit down together by the hearth, if the weather is rainy, or else in the sun, if the day is bright, and pass briefly over some of the articles or books that concern woman and those interested in her affairs.

Here is the magazine "Ideal Household Management" (2), and here is an article of particular interest to mothers, or to anyone concerned with children. Its subject: "Does this toy bring the child pleasure — or danger?" Its author, the assistant editor of the magazine, says that the magazine's specialized department carries out numerous tests and a careful examination of every children's toy — those toys that so often fill their stockings on Christmas Eve, or crowd the shop windows and the rooms of homes.

The staff of this department examine the toys, especially those offered to small children, and take care that they should not be a cause of injury to them: they rule out, for example, sharp metal corners, or they see whether a toy is so small that a child could swallow it whole, or whether there are parts attached to it that could harm the child, such as eyes made of glass or of pins, or buttons he might pull off and swallow. Then they ask: would the child hurt himself if he fell because of this particular toy, or fell with it? (For example, a toy horse of flimsy construction, or an unsteady chair?) If all these answers are in the negative, the toy goes back to the engineering department for further analysis and for longer, more exacting study.

And since a child will try to suck or eat anything his hand falls upon, we must therefore take account of the paint with which toys are coated, treating it as food for the child, harmless if he should swallow it. Paints containing substances such as lead, arsenic, or antimony are not accepted, especially in concentrated quantities. After such careful examination, the magazine, on the recommendation of the said department, agrees to advertise a given toy or rejects it. Deserving products are granted a special seal testifying that children will come to no harm from using the toy that bears it; the seal states that the toy may be returned and its price refunded if it is not as advertised, this being guaranteed by the magazine itself. Precautions of this kind are for every mother, and for everyone who endears himself to a child by giving him a toy — and it is a commendable step that this particular magazine has taken.

And here is the magazine "Science Digest" (3), and here is a study entitled "Do You Live in Silent Fear?" The author of this article says: perhaps you have heard of the man afflicted with melancholy, or melancholia, who one morning, on his way to work, ran up to a friend of his. "How are you?" the friend asked him. "Worried to death," he answered.

— "Why? What is it that troubles you now?" the friend asked.

— "That is just what wears me out," was the sick man's reply. "I have not felt in such good health for years as I do now."

We all know someone of this sort, who believes he suffers pain somewhere in his body: in the stomach or the eyes, in the joints or the nerves, in the liver or the head. Such a man goes hunting for accommodating diseases and doctors.

As for the number of those who live in fear of one disease or another, it is unlimited. Such people rarely discuss these matters with their intimate friends, and if they do, it is only by way of jesting; yet they often tell a stranger what is on their minds. The author advises that when you come home with your strength worn out and your hopes sunk, unsure of the future, bed is the best paradise to take refuge in, rather than withdrawing into some solitary corner.

(1) Broadcast from the Near East Arab Broadcasting Station.
(2) "Good Housekeeping", Dec. 1951
(3) "Sciene Digest" - Jan. 1952, "Do you Live in Silent Fear?" by Greer Williams

There is the story of a man who felt he was going to die, though his health was at its very best — so he rose in the middle of the night and wrote his will. And there is the man who is afraid to board an airplane until his children are grown, or because he promised his wife he would not. Yes, we do not deny that we have the right to fear this cause or that, and even to fear fear itself. Admitting fear is natural — or rather, it does no harm — but on condition that we do not surrender to it entirely. Fear is a natural physiological reaction to danger; it is a mechanism for self-preservation: the substance adrenalin is secreted, and thereby strength is produced either for self-defense or for flight. Natural fear passes when the danger passes.

We imitate those we love or admire. We imitate our parents, and we imagine that if the father is afflicted with diabetes or some other disease, we too are bound to be stricken with it sooner or later — and so we begin to fear the disease in advance. This although scientists, through their study of the embryo, have proved that most of the diseases some people suppose to be transmitted by heredity are pure fancy. As for the power of personal suggestion, it is well known — and this fear is of that kind of suggestion. We observe that those with high blood pressure raise it higher merely by thinking about it.

And here is a delightful article in "Parents' Magazine" (1), written by Mrs. Dewey, entitled: "No more mad mornings in our house." This is a natural — or rather a universal — situation that occurs in most homes. Mrs. Dewey set about treating the subject; let us hear what she says:

Getting my husband off to work and the children off to school was always an operation of scramble and commotion every morning. If you, my dear listener, suffer the same difficulty, then take note of how Mrs. Dewey handled this business of sending the members of the family off to their occupations happy and properly fed.

— "Look, my dear," said the husband one day over his morning coffee, while the wife was combing her younger daughter's hair and directing the second, teary-eyed, to the whereabouts of her lost shoe. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but isn't there some way we can avoid this turmoil every morning?"

— "Yes," I answered him, "but I don't know the reason!" And when the lost shoe had been found, the soiled clothes changed and cleaned, and the last lunch basket handed to the grumbling bicycle rider, I came back to my husband again.

We began to talk the matter over and agreed to think out a satisfactory solution. I looked at the baby and said to him: "You are partly to blame. Why don't you stay clean at night?" He favored me with a broad smile, thinking I was playing with him; so I hugged him, poured myself a second cup of coffee, and let my eyes wander over the empty breakfast dishes and the clothes and shoes scattered about the floor of the house. Then I took up a pencil and paper and began to write and to think... An hour later, when it was time for the kitchen work, there lay before me a sheet with these ten observations set down:

1 - I never get to drink my coffee except cold. (It had not occurred to me that I was putting my own problem first — but no matter; perhaps there is some benefit in being selfish now and then, especially as I now have a purpose.)

2 - Not one member of the family eats his fill in the morning, because by the time I have finished changing the baby's clothes and prepared the food, it is eight o'clock.

3 - The children prefer their food hot, and most of the time I serve it to them cold.

4 - My husband hates cereal and prefers bacon and eggs in the morning, and I do not give them to him.

5 - The children never know where any one of them has put his shoes or his other things.

6 - By the time the girls decide what to wear for the day, it is time to leave for school.

7 - This haste leaves the children throwing their clothes here and there all over the house.

8 - I spend most of the morning picking up the clothes scattered after them before I begin the housework.

9 - Almost every morning one of them is bound to forget something in the house, or to go off without finding it, having no time to search for it.

10 - Most days I do not breakfast well, and by eleven o'clock I am hungry.

It did not take much effort for me to see that our problem was one of organization. Nor did I need much intelligence to admit bravely that most of the fault fell on me. I thought about plans all day long, and when my husband came home I presented him with my written analysis of the problem. He was very pleased with it. His first observation was that he too felt hungry at eleven, and that he was certain the children did as well. So he suggested we discuss the matter with the children — perhaps they would have some sound ideas.

(1) "Parents Magazine": Dec. 1951 "No More Mad Mornings at Our House."

And indeed we set to conferring at suppertime, and everyone endorsed the husband's remark that the family was not properly fed. So we settled on four points to be applied to every member, including the husband and the children themselves. They were as follows:

1 - Clothes to be laid out before bedtime for the following day.

2 - The children must dress before breakfast, not after it, as they used to do.

3 - The husband to get up as usual — that is, a little after half past seven — but with a new responsibility that delights the baby, the two-year-old. This responsibility is to change the child's clothes and then let him spend the next few minutes watching his father go through the operation of shaving.

4 - The husband likewise to help the children tie their shoelaces when they cannot manage them; he is also responsible for fastening the buttons beyond the little ones' reach and for buckling the belt that will go into its loop only with difficulty.

5 - The children are free to change their minds about what they wear — but on their own responsibility.

I found great difficulty, of course, in teaching the children self-reliance in dressing — it was easier for me to dress them myself — but after a while they grew used to the new arrangement, and everything went smoothly. And I was confident that whatever small success the family achieved in its system, the credit for it belonged to the mother.

Thus Mrs. Ray Dewey ends her engaging article, drawn from the very heart of life, saying: perhaps the situation differs from family to family. Or perhaps tomorrow will not be like today, and this very same arrangement will prove hard for our own family; we must not, then, cling to one fixed arrangement, letting life fall into a single rut. But whatever the situation, if the matter concerns a number of persons setting out for different places at nearly the same time, this particular solution is indispensable: a little time, pencil and paper, discussion, and the finding of a democratic solution shared by all the members of the family — and, most important of all, a father who is happy to cooperate, and a mother who makes it easy for her children to bear responsibility.