OCR Interpretation

The Fort Apache scout. [volume] (Whiteriver, Ariz.) 1962-current, December 01, 1963, Image 5

Image and text provided by Arizona State Library, Archives and Public Records; Phoenix, AZ

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn90051719/1963-12-01/ed-1/seq-5/

What is OCR?

Thumbnail for Page Five

December, 1963
by Ida Early
The Tribal Council met Dec. 4
in a one day meeting at Cibecue.
A community dinner was served in
the Cibecue Day School dining
Mrs. Annie Cooley remarked
that this was the first time she had
seen the Tribal Council in action
and that more meetings of this kind
should be held. All had a new
regard for the Council after seeing
it in action.
Thanks to Gertrude Truax and
Esther Pailzote for fixing a good
dinner--and thanks to Mr. Eldon
Harris for his gracious hospitality.
* * *
The Theodore Roosevelt School
entertained Monday night at the
Cibecue Day School, Dec. 9, with
a group of Indian dances given by
the tribes represented at the school.
Everyone enjoyed this very much.
* * *
Cibecue Day School now has an
enrollment of 156. A new and
larger school building will be
needed to house the increasing
enrollment in the near future.
* * *
Two old timers of the Cibecue
community passed away recently.
Leon Beatty passed away Nov. 25
and was buried in Cibecue. He is
survived by his wife, Alice, and
four children and twenty-one
grandchildren. He is also sur
vived by five sons and two
daughters by another marriage.
They are Phillip, Homer, Leon,
Amos, Eubanks, Fanny Naclineta
anc Christina Larzelere.
William Duryea's mother passed
away Dec. 9 and was buried in
Whiteriver. William is her only
RWj Forest
When the stillness of winter descends upon
the forest and the hearthfire beckons with its i
glowing warmth J
We pause in this season of good cheer to ex- A
tend heartfelt good wishes and Yuletide greetings
to our White Mountain Apache friends and co
The following guest column was written by
Don Nelson of the Arizona Record, Globe
A man smiles. Or he walks an extra half-block to carry a lady's
packages. Or he simply directs a simple "hello" to a stranger.
These little pleasantries would hardly be noticeable--except that
for the last 50 weeks this man. in his daily habitual rush, just hasn't
bothered or cared. But suddenly he cares
What is this human trait that we loosely term "the Christmas spirit?"
How is it trigered? How is it measured?
You can't generalize the spirit, or the feeling. You have to ex
perience it. Most people don't try to explain it, or define it. But
one man did, in a letter to a newspaper editor many years ago. Judge
C.C. Faires saw the letter and recognized what he saw. Here was
"good will among men. " defined.
The letter was signed only by initials- Its author is unknown, but it
could have been any of us. Here's the letter:
"There I was, hitting up my best pace to get to the door oi the big
office building in 41st Street. And there was a young fellow coming
from the other angle, just enough ahead of me to get there first. And
instead of letting the door swing back for me to catch, he stopped and
held it for me. And I felt pleased, and told him so--because lam
rather an oldster, you know, and he was just a young chap. And he
grinned and said, "Oh, that's all right--pretty bad world if we couldn't
do something like that once in a while."
"And by that time he had reached the second set of doors. And he
held one of them open for me, too. And I told him I'd do as much
for him sometime--meaning, of course, for somebody else, because
we both knew that we probably would never see each other again. . .
"And I scooted down some stairs to the shuttle for Times Square. And
when I got into my train there, and was well seated, who should come
in but a little old woman. And she looked around. And nobody got
up. And (I confess to being a hardened New Yorker) I didn't hurry to
do anything about it.
"And then I looked at her again. And I saw that she was pretty short,
and probably couldn't reach a handle. And so she would have to rock
around and do the best she could, which wouldn't be very good,
probably. And she had gray hair. And she wasn't so very well dressed.
And she had a kind, tired face.
"And so I beckoned to her to come and take my seat. And she started
right for it. And then--well, what do you think? And then, a brisk
young fellow who was sitting right beside me snapped to his feet, as ii
he had been in the army sometime—as likely enough he had.
"And he said to me: 'Let the lady have my seat, sir, and you sit
down, won't you?' And I said to him: 'Thank you, I will. ' And
The Fort Apache Scout
that's about all I did say. And I guess he understood what I wanted
to say, only didn't.
"And when I got out of the train, he was standing right there. And
he sat down where I'd got up. And he grinned, and I grinned. And
we understood.
"And when I got to my apartment, and inside the door, I was so full
of an odd sort of sensation—die Christmas spirit, maybe—that I looked
into a mirror hanging there. And, if you will believe me, I had half
a notion dial, on my way home from the office, I had somehow
grown. . .
"And when I looked into the mirror, it wasn't so at all! And all I
could see diere was just myself. And that was not so much. And yet,
somehow, I knew that there was something that the mirror didn't really
show. And 1 said to myself: 'lt's something inside you that makes
you feel this way, and no mirror can ever show diat kind of thing, and
you ought to know it. '
"And then I answered myself: 'Well, if it's anything to do with
Christmas I ought to be ashamed of myself; for folks ought to hold
open doors for other people every day in the year, and not simply in
the last two weeks in December. And they ought to give up their
seats, and they ought to be kind and gentle and decent to their fellow
creatures all the time. And I'd better try to recollect it. '
"And then I glanced at a little stanza of poetry which hangs in a
frame in my little hallway right beside the mirror. And the closing
words of the bit ol poetry were these: "For just the art ot being kind
is all this sad world needs. ' And I said to myself: 'That's so. '
"And when my wile came out. . .1 told her my little story about the
swinging door and the old lady in the subway and my foolish glance
into the mirror.
"And I won't tell you what she said or what she did--for you know
what a wife will say and do to an old fellow whom she has lived with,
and borne with, every since he was young enough to put a certain
ring on her finger--and now he's a grandfather.
"And so that's all, Mr. Editor. And I hear you say that it's enough.
And I think so, too. And the only excuse is--Christmas. And if it
will help anybody to practice "just the art ol being kind" on days wher
it isn't Christmas time, I shall be glad ol it. And I'll be trying, too,
"And that's really all--and not so much, at that, is it?"
Page Five

xml | txt