Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 277, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 November 1910 — Why Give Thanks? [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Why Give Thanks?

By Anna Steese Richardson

HANKSGIVING DAY. Humph! It’s easy enough for the President to give thanks on $50,000 a year, but what about the rest of us?" _ Can’t you see her fling down the morning paper with the Thanksgiving proclamation in

big type on the front page? In imagination, can’t you hear the Scornful, embittered aceent of her care-rasped tones? And v don’t you know her sort?— drab-colored frock, drab-colored hair, drab-colored complexion and drab-col-ored views of life? Just one of “the rest of us,” to whom the presidential salary of $50,000 a year represents a sum on which she thinks she could live comfortably to the end of her days, She is one of the thousands, too, who think that every man, woman or child save themselves has cause for giving thanks. Yet why is she so pessimistic? She has a position which pays a fair salary. She likes her work, or rather takes pride in the results of her labors. She has reasonably good health and would have better if she would only learn to walk on the sunny side of life's broad street « She is able to laj- aside a small sum each week toward the inevitable rainy day and she could wear much more becoming clothes if she knew how and took pleasure in choosing them. No one Insists upon her wearing dull colors, which make' her look old and faded. Every night she goes home to a tidy little apartment, presided over by a tidy little mother and supported in part by a cheerful younger sister. Here she finds the order she loves and the cooking which she enjoys. For pleasure she has her church and its societies, a free library just ■ around the corner, a weekly visit to the theatre, where she manages to see all the better productions, an occasional concert, as many invitations to evening card parties as she cares to accept; and yet she has no reason for giving thanks! ■—Why? Because she must earn all these things. She must pay part of the reht of the tidy little apartment. She must pay her own dressmaking and millinery bills from her wages. Often she must pay for her own theatre tickets and concert admissions.

She thinks the girls who have cause for thanksgiving are those whose fathers, mothers, brothers and sweethearts strew the pathway at home and abroad with roses and theatre tickets. She belongs to the large class of wor king girls who believe that only the girl of leisure hag any real pleasures In life. She does not know that the roses cast at the feet of the girl who is dependent upon parents and relatives are thick with thorns. She has never heard a mother upbraid her daughter for extravagance one minute and then load the girl with new frocks, hats and gloves of her own choosing the next. She never dreams that the girl who must look to mother and father for every penny is often afraid to ask for the one thing she most wants, because her parents prefer to think and plan for her . This girl never knows the joy of doing just what she wants just when she likes—which the dun-colored lady does seven days in the week. There are stout girls who weep because their mothers insist upon buying plaid silk frocks or blouses for them, and thin girls whose misguided mothers dress them in severely plain, unsoftened tailored suits. The dun-colored lady may wear what she will. It is her own fault if her life as well as her clothing is drab. She has made of duty a fetish, on whose altar she is sacrificing her youth and her pleasure. She thinks that because she must work for her living, she cannot enjoy the pleasures allotted to the girl of leisure. What that dun-colored little lady needs more than anything else is contact, physical and spiritual, with normal, healthy, happy, wage-earning girls of whom there are millions all over the United States. Above all, she ought to know a beautiful character who recently came into my own business life. Here was a woman close to 50, whose husband deserted her for a younger but certainly not more attractive woman. She had lived the absolutely sheltered life, never worrying as to where the next ’month's rent and the next week’s meat bill must come from, always assured of her weekly allowance and content in her daily routine of home-making. Then suddenly all was swept from her —husband, funds, sense of security, protection and privacy.

Some one told her she was wonderfully well preserved for her years. The compliment gave her an idea. She said: “I’ve kept down wrinkles, manicured my hands, and exercised my figure into' good condition, all for myself. I wonder if I could show other women how?* She took a few lessons from expert manicurists and facial masseurs, had some cards printed, rented a tiny flat, moved in what was left of her old home-fittings, established her mother ana picked up her new life with a smile. >» I .asked her today why she was thankful. She smiled her radiant, honest smile and answered: “Oh, for so much! First, to think that a way was opened for me to earn my living and thus be independent. “Second, for my health. I feel so strong and capable again. ' “Third, for my mother. She makes home for me now. “Fourth, for the fact that I do not owe a dollar. Debt is such a terrible thing ■to face on Thanksgiving morning.” How the dun-colored little lady would have stared at our new-found friend. “What’s the use of being healthy and good-looking,” she would ask. “If the man you had loved for years is not around to admire you? “And what is the use of being thankful for just a mother. Every one has a mother—and then this woman must support her mother from her slender earnings. That looks more like a cause for worry than for thanks. “Then one deserves no credit for being out of debt when you have so small an income that you do not dare have anything charged.” Dun-colored little ladles always have their own arguments with which to fight any unruly feelings of thanksgiving and happiness. But of a tcuth the wage earning woman today has much for which to be thankful. I recently met a whitehaired woman, who ranked among the pioneer business women of New York. She said that when she first opened her shop, the curious-minded, boys, men and women, used to hang round the door for a peek at her and often followed her on the street. The American girl in business is particularly fortunate, according to the light of an Englishman, who has been studying sociological conditions in America. He found himself one noon at a great white and gold restaurant in the financial district of New York City. All around him at other tables were well-groomed, well-dressed, well-, behaved young women. He said to his host: “And who are these-young women? Do they buy and sell stocks?’’ His host smiled. “Not at all. They are our’stenographers, clerks and private seertaries.” “Ah —” said the bewildered Englishman, “but —er —they look so like ladies.” Yes, we have reached the point where we may work for our living and still be regarded as ladies in the broadest sense of the word. Breadwinning is today a badge of honor, and the woman who earns her own living is not a social outcast. So much snobbery has America lost through the womanliness and intelligence of its business girls. So much have tl\e little dun-colored ladies to be grateful for—independence, and honor and happiness in independence, if only they will follow the girls who have learned to walk on the sunny side of life's broad street. —AH happiness la comparative.—AH causes for Thanksgiving are comparative. Do not look towards those who are better off than yourself when you are counting your beads of gratitude. Look rather on the state of those who may well envy you—and then give thanks. —Chicago Inter Ocean.