Newspapers / The Fieldcrest Mill Whistle … / Feb. 26, 1945, edition 1 / Page 4
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Four THE MILL WHISTLE February 26, 1945 The MILL WHISTLE Issued Every Two Weeks By and For the Employees of MARSHALL FIELD & COMPANY MANUFACTURING DIVISION SPRAY, NORTH CAROLINA J, U. NEWMAN, JR., Editor FOR GOLF, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR THE LOVE OF MIKE: Mike is a former professional baseball player. After several years on the' diamond, Mike’s legs became a bit wobbly and the old eyes a little dimmed. So Mike, loving the outdoors, decided to take up golf. He told us: “Nothing to it, boy. All a fellow has to do is* smack that little white ball with a wooden or iron club. Nothing to it.” “Mike, oh Mike,” we thought to ourselves, “you’re gonna learn something soon!” A week later Mike stopped us on the street. “Say, it’s funny, ain’t it? I never had no trouble smacking a baseball, even when it was coming at me like a streak of greased lightning, with a hook or a hop on it. But that dad-gummed little old golf ball, setting there as still as a statue, teed up an inch or two off the ground! Why, I’d swear the thing moves of its own accord.” “Finding it a little hard, eh?” we asked. “Hard? Say, fella, did you ever play this here game of golf?” - We admit having played at it for a number of years but emphat ■ ically deny that we play it. In fact, we can remember, a good many years ago, when we devoted the lunch hour each day to playing a couple of holes rather than eat. We can remember when we had a pretty bad case of “hoof and mouth disease”—walking a good many miles per day around the golf course, cussing every other step be cause we couldn’t make that little old ball do anything we wanted it to do. And we can remember how the long suffering Little W'oman kept supper warm for us, listened patiently to our play by play ac count (slightly colored, of course) and then asked: “How much did you lose?” Sure, Mike, we can sympathize with you. But don’t forget that walking in the open air in the country—where most golf courses are— is good for you. Don’t forget that in these days of high pressure work all of us need exercise; need to get our minds off the worrisome prob lems of the day—for a few minutes, anyway. The boys in the service have a certain amount of entertainment; otherwise they’d probably go nuts in a short while. And speaking of nuts, Mike, just what is it about this game of golf that takes a firm grip on an otherwise sane man and makes a golf nut out of him? Is it because the game is so fascinating, interest ing, or what? “Heck no,” Mike scoffs. “It’s because a full grown man hates to admit that a danged little old ball and a stick of wood or iron can lick him. He just don’t want to be made a fool of by those things. He tells himself that be-danged if he can’t beat this game of cow- pasture croquet, sooner or later, if it takes 40 years.” Mike, old son. bigger and better men than you have made that same declaration. And in some cases the forty years have passed and they’re still trying to play. We think the secret of the thing is in the word “play.” Most of the men who play golf, or play at it, are more or less successful in life and business. They made their success by hard work, by sticking to the task until it was finished. So now that they have mastered their profession or brought it to the place where it starts paying dividends they want to relax. And there is no better way to relax than to play golf. In fact, you have to relax, else you’ll spend the entire day out in the woods and tall grass looking for your ball. And say, Mike, just between ourselves, we’re going to break a hundred this spring, we HOPE. BLASTS From the Draper Office Carrie Hill and Evelyn Lewis There really isn’t much news around as of late. It seems as though every thing keeps pretty quiet on the front these days, and so news is somewhat scarce. The “Chin Up Girls”, as we have been known, met in the home of Hazel Powell, with Mamie Link, as co-hos- tess, on Tursday evening, February 15. An interesting program was presented during the evening by our hostesses. During the business of the evening, the name of our club was changed, but we’ll be better off to wait until the next issue and let you know what it will be. Our next meeting will be held with Vera Belle Francis, and Hilda Smith will co-hostesses. Visitors at our meeting were Mrs. Doris Marlowe, Mrs. Sylvia Squires, and Mrs. Logan. T/Sgt. Landis G. Powell, U. S. Army, better known to some of us as “Dicky”’, son of Mr. and Mrs. E. G. Powell, of Draper, is home on a 21-day furlough. Landis has been across for three and a half years, and it is his first visit home. We are all so glad you could come home. Say, Hilda, have you decided to give up “civies” for the Uniform? Maybe your luck has changed! What did that fortune teller tell you? This is the month of birthdays around these parts. Happy birthday to Hilda Smith, Mamie Link, Ruby Lewis, Carrie Hill, and Aubrey Cochran. Many happy returns of the day! A thought: “More things are wrought by people than 'this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice rise like a fountain, night and day.” Tennyson. V . . . — Can’t Face It Bootblack—Shine your shoes? Businessman—No. Bootblack—Shine ’em so you can see your face. Busines-smcri—No. Bootblack—Don’t blame you. V . . . — He: “When we are married, dear, I’m not going to be like some husbands who get cross and ugly maybe just because the coffee is cold.” She (sweetly): “Well, if you ever do, bonev. I’ll make it hot for you.” Buy . . Sell . . Swap FOR SALE—300 Capacity Oil Burner Brooder. See Maye Roberts, Karastan Setting or at home on Leaksville- Reidsville hard road. LOST—A billfold containing eight dollars. If found please notify Calvin Evans, Finishing Department, Woolen Mill. WANTED—20 Locust or Cedar Posts. Mrs. Maggie Shropshire, Bedspread Mill.
The Fieldcrest Mill Whistle (Spray, N.C.)
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Feb. 26, 1945, edition 1
4
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