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Page 2 THE ECHO THE ECHO Organ of Employees at Ecusta Paper Corporation Champagne Paper Corporation and Endless Belt Company Editor Miss Justine Williams Published Monthly at PISGAH FOREST, N. C. Printed by Champagne Job Printing Department. Book. Corner Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and may your New Year’s resolutions include lots of good read ing. This month we have a book writ ten by a blind boy entitled, THE WORLD AT MY FINGER TIPS. He writes, “It is this way to meet blind ness . . . Letters begin to swim on the page like jellyfish in stagnant water, and you wait a year while the doctors try everything they know to put straight lines and bright colors before your eyes again. You see the world through a luminous fog, and then through a curtain with the foot lights fading. And then not at all.” This is the autobiography of Karstan Ohnstad who thirteen years ago was like any other normal American high-school boy—fond of sports, the movies and the radio, full of fun. His vision began to fade as-the result of a minor injury in a ball game. To day, at twenty-nine, he is almost tot ally blind. His is a story of un daunted courage, an inspiration to success over obstacles, and also a challenge to every sighted person. Justine Williams, our Recreation Di rector, was a classmate of his at St. Olaf, Northfield, Minn. . . . We have another story of blindness by Aldous Huxley entitled, THE ART OF SEEING. A victim in youth of near-blindness, Aldous Huxley went through the experiences of thousands who have faced the loss of sight. This book tells how he achiev ed what many thought impossible. It is a book of hope for all similarly afflicted—a rediscovery of the basic rules of vision. Very different from these two books is Ilka Chase’s PAST IMPERFECT, the indiscretions of a lady of wit and opinion. She sets down the cockeyed personal history which made her one of the half-dozen authentic American lady dilettantes, an actress of charm and vigor, a radio master of ceremonies and a writer of incisive, zestful prose. TIME OF PEACE by Ben Ames Williams is es sentially the story of a father and son relationship, dating from the son’s boyhood up to our participation in the present war. It is filled with the interesting details of warm and hu man everyday happenings, but is broadened and deepened in signifi cance by the impact of national and world events. The ironic connota tion is that in time of peace we pre pare for war by having children, lov ing and rearing them—only to give them at last to the armed forces. This book is rich in human character and detail and takes on special meaning against the back-drop of war. AM BASSADORS IN WHITE is the story MERRY CHRISTMAS Christmas—and once again the spirit of the day goes out across the land. The strong, courageous touch of it lies across our land and reaches out to our American boys throughout the world. It brings a message of love and faith and hope, and a renew al of our faith in all things that are worthwhile—that are worth fighting for. They are simple things, perhaps, like the dancing fire light in our homes and the joyousness of gifts and songs and the laughter of children. To be warm, to be loved and to have enough to eat is a glorious bounty that we hold so lightly until there is fear of losing it. To our American men and women scattered through out the world and who, on this Christmas day may be cold, hungry, and suffering, we at home would like you to know that these very simple and wonderful things that you are fighting to save for loved ones will be waiting for you when you return. We are safe and at home! And so we can think of no better wish for each of you on this Christmas Day. May you know again the joys of simple things that are so wonderful: Dancing fire light, the joyousness of gifts and songs and the laughter of children. “God bless you every one.” December, ( Just A Piece Of Cloth” That’s all it is—just a piece of cloth. You can count the threads in it and it’s no different from any other piece of cloth. But then a little breeze comes along, and it stirs and comes to life and flutters and snaps in the wind, all red and white and blue. And then you realize that no other piece of cloth could be like it. It has your whole life wrapped up in it. The meals you’re going to eat. The time you’re going to spend with your wife. The kind of things your boy or girl will learn at school. Those strange and wonderful thoughts you get, inside a church, on Sunday. Those stars in it—they make you feel just as free as the stars in the wide, deep night. And those stripes —they’re bars of blood to any dic tator who’d try to change it. Yes, that flag is just a piece of cloth until we breathe life into it. Until we make it stand for everything we believe in and refuse to live with out. N.Y.C.R.R. —Keep That Flag Flying BUY WAR BONDS AND STAMPS (Editor’s Note—The following poem was written by Corpor al John E. Caughman. It was brought to the attention of Mrs. Roosevelt by one of Caughman’s fellow soldiers and was print ed for the first time at Mrs. Roosevelt’s request.) A CHRISTMAS SILHOUETTE — 1941 Tonight a sentry’s rifle is my Christmas tree, The night wind sighing is my Yuletide cry. With lonely step I watch the silent sea. Tonight we are alone, my gun and I. My gun is trimmed with brass and steel. My tin hat is heavy, cold and wet. Slowly we walk the midnight watch— A man, a gun; a Christmas I Silhouette. Yet, I know—my gun, it does not know— The snapping cedars and pinions bright, The room smelling of pine and holly, And the warmth and love of a Christmas night. Even now, under these darkening skies The vision of a ewer with silver handles Comes like a dream to my tired brain, And, yes, I smell the bayberry candles. One Christmas—not long ago—there was another gun, A gun wrapped in tinsel, ribbons, tags and all. A note: “With love to you, my son, for sport; Get the ducks when it comes fall.” Those days have swept away on the rising tide, Gone like the hurried turning of a page. The words of the Great Prince have dimmed; We are left with malice, hate and rage. We have come to that time of wrath and hate When death wings down from the sky; When Christmas lights go dim— go black. We walk the beach alone—my gun and I. But we must keep faith—my gun and I. We must stand guard in the wind and rain. An(J we shall pray, yes. Hear our prayer, “May the Prince of Peace return again.” ‘‘Merry Christmas’^ The Safety Department has quested that I extend to each anil every one of you, very best wisbe® for a Merry Christmas and a Happ)' Prosperous and Safe 1943. Although there is room for provement in our accident exper ience, it has been a real pleasure during 1942 to observe the effor** that you employees of Ecusta, ChaH' pagne and Endless Belt have P"* forth in our Accident Prevention gram throughout the plant and yf are to be highly commended for this fine work. Since the reduction accident cases requires the full hea>^ ed cooperation of every person on payroll, the only answer to furtb®”^ decreasing our injuries is for every one of you to continue to Think, Tal^ and Practice Safety. Let’s all put our shoulder to wheel during the coming year, cept our part of the responsibility the prevention of accidents and tablish an outstanding record ® operating without a lost time injury “SCRATCH THE SURFACE” Means To “Open The Door To Infectiofl” Dirt and Neglect lead the way ^ infection. Proper cleansing pi"* prompt first-aid treatment of At*' wounds prevent pain and costly ability. “Get First Aid First.” of American tropical medicine by Charles Morrow Wilson. Today the great tropical scourges are on the march again. Since the seizure of the Dutch East Indies by the Japanese, the supply of quinine is dangerously limited. Mr. Wilson tells of the strug gles of the ambassadors in white, whom the United States and Europ ean nations have sent to Central and South America and the West In dies. With our own soldiers trav eling through, and stationed in these countries, the United States is not beyond the menace of these diseases which, many times in the past, have been epidemic within its boundar ies. We also have on the lighter side, SEE HERE, PRIVATE HARGROVE and SO YOUR HUSBAND’S GONE TO WAR, two books about these times guaranteed not to scare or de press you but to make you laugh. It’s ; good to laugh. We just read some where that “He who laughs, lasts.” And so:— “At Christmas, play and make good chper. For Christmas comes but once a year.” Christmas Gifts For The Men In Service A true music lover is a man who, upon hearing a soprano in the bath- roonii, puts his ear to the keyhole. We were anxious to remember the boys in service at Christmas time, and every effort was made to ob tain proper addresses as well as the service man’s choice in cigarettes, or if any were non-smokers, printed stationery was offered as a substi tute. More than 75 gifts were mailed from Ecusta, Champagne and Endless Belt to overseas and coastal ad dresses at the end of October (to re lieve Uncle Sam of the strain on his Post Office departments, as well as to assure receipt by Christmas in event of forwarding), and nearly 200 went out the first of December to U. S. ad dresses. Assurance was given that the boys overseas would experience no difficulty in receiving their gifts without any payment on their part of duty, tax, or postage, and it is the sincere hope of the senders that such was the case. The boys were offered the near- 1. things to “home pro ducts —which their past efforts have (Continued On Page 3) SAFETY CREED For All Employees I believe in Safety because loss of my ability to labor means sUi; fering for those I love most on eai^' it leaves to the mercies of a more less indifferent world, those who^ every workman desires most of to protect. I believe in Safety cause it tends to conserve my abil^^^ to labor, and that ability is my capital; losing it I am bankrupt. ’ believe in Safety because my saf®^' means the safety of my fellow-wor^" men. In risking my self,I risk otber^. I believe in Safety because the breaj" I earn with my own hands is swe^^, er to me and mine a thousand tini® more than charity in any form. Poems About Christm^^ 0 Little town of Bethlehem! How still we see thee lie; Above thy deep and dreamless sle®^ The silent stars go by; Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light; The hopes and fears of all the yeaf^ Are met in thee tonight. Everywhere, everywhere, Christn^^^ tonight! Christmas in lands of the fir-tr®^ and pine, Christmas in land of the palm-tree and vine, , Christmas where snow-peaks sta’' solemn and white, Christmas where corn-fields lie sun*’- and bright. Ah, friends, dear friends, as years on and heads get gray, how the guests do go! Touch hands, touch hands, with tb®^ that stay. Strong hands to weak, old hands ' young, around the ChristJ^^ board, touch hands. , The false forget, the foe forgive? every guest will go and fire burp low and cabin eroP ’ that stand. Forget, forgive, for who may say - Chrfstmas day may ever coin® host or guest again. Touch hands! (John Norton’s Vagabo^
