THE BEST OF THINGS

Hawera Star, Volume LI, 20 June 1931, Page 16

THE BEST OF THINGS

'\7'OU know him. He says: “All you modern women arc so busy and Napoleonic.” When he encounters the modern child he turns pink and says it ought to have been whipped earlier. He says we all lack a decent dignity. The modern taste in dress, houses, conversation, and amusements distresses him, and he winces at the sight of young men and women upending the lovely noble sentiments on which our grandfathers stood to reach what they wanted, writes Storin' Jameson in an English paper.. The world rushes on. Inconvenient old mansions are pulled down and blocks of flats shoot up over-night (perfect in every way except that no one can afford to rent them}. Lifts go faster and faster. So do motor-ears. Modern houses all but clean themselves. Meals become simpler and simpler. Travel becomes easier. Children no longer die of their upbringing. Women have their own way, bless them. Gentility is dead. Yet there are people who find it in their hearts to yearn for the dear romantic world that fell sick about 1900, and died of a fever a few years later. It would serve them right if they stiffened into pillars of wax. No woman in her senses wants to go back to the days of basement houses—even though there were plenty of servants to share them with the cockroaches—windows- thickly curtained to exclude air and light, and armourplated clothes. No modern woman wants to bo reversed as Victorian women were reversed—-with the incidental result that a respectable woman could not walk abroad without the risk of insult, countless women died from causes directly traceable to their own ignorance, and countless more died while they were still alive of boredom, thwarted energies, and too much reverence. It is almost always nmn—of a certain age—who yearn and yearn for yesterday. Scratch their wistful, moistovod clubman with the bitter smile and

What the World Owes You

find Christopher Robin. “:Give me yesterday, ’ ’ he murmurs. To which the proper answer is: “‘You ean*’ave it for me.’" J You can’t live backwards. You can try to —'but the effect will be rather ' like a pompous old gentleman trying to walk up a down-moving staircase in the tube. Don’t blame the onlookers too much if they hoot with joy. The moro conscious you are of your superior i refinement, dignity, and rightness of purpose, the funnier you will look to everyone else. Besides, you’re not getting anywhere. The staircase is going one way and you another, and the staircase wins. There is a great deal to be said for the Victorians. They knew what they wanted. They had their own courage and they built solid houses in which to live solid lives. -But it is no use pre- ! tending that they were careful where they built. The site they chose eventually blew up with us on it, and here we are, “out in the open with everyone I looking,” and no time, to live beautit fully and with dignity—not very much excuse. There is only one way to live in 1931, and that is to live in 1931. To look it in the face —instead of squinting at it with a pair of grandfatner’s opera glasses—and say boldly: “What have you got to give me? I’ll have it.” It has a great deal to give. Comfort —houses- that break no woman’s poor back; rooms that are warm in winter land airy in summer; clothes that let | the body breathe —compare the effort 1 required to run and clean a house in I 1890 with the ease of running a modern j house. Think of the energy released | by this alone, am. seize every labour- | saving device modern invention has to ! offer, and say ‘‘Thank you.” 1 Mobility—you only live in this world once, so it is w’ell to’loOk at it while you can. It is worth looking at. Instead of lamenting lost quiet, buy ! yourself a ear or a motor-cycle, or a 1 cheap travel ticket and sec the world. lIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIHIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIUIHIIII