JUVENILE Issued monthly for the Young Slovenes by the Slovene Nat’l Benefit Society at 2657 S. Lawndale ave., Chicago, 111. Entered as second-class matter August 2, 1922, at the postoffice at Chicago, 111., under Act of August 24, 1912. Annual subscription, $1.20; half year, 60c; foreign subscription, $1.60. LETO XV.—Št. 1. CHICAGO, ILL., JANUARY, 1936 Vol. XV—No. 1. ANNA P. KRASNA: ‘KO BOMO MI KEDAJ T>ORASU’ yy EMO leži 'pisemce pred očmi, s tiho bolestjo se vrača spomin preko pečin, ki so leta, v otroške dni. Mirno-vesela leži beseda: Igramo se vojake—. V mislih pa se zgane: Glej, učili so tako deda, očeta, sina, in zdaj tudi iz vnučkov vzgajajo—bedake. Otroško-drzno se ponaša stavek: Da nas vidiš, kako se znamo vojskovati!— V misel se zapiči kakor ostra pšica: Res, groza, da je bila očetova noga zastonj žrtvovana granati . . . H koncu je prislonjena bedne mladosti grenka beseda: Miklavž nam je prinesel samo zimo, in sedaj nas tare dvojna beda_____ . . . Beda ... in ta beda poje: ‘Ko bomo mi kedaj dorasli.’— Misel vprašuje sarkastično, žalostno: Se bodo li tedaj tudi po vas črni gavrani pasli ... ? Katka Zupančič: LEPE LAZI pRAVLJIC polno sem prečital. V vseh živali govore. Vprašam psička, kaj !vse ve? Mi odvrne: Hav, hav, hav! Muco vprašam, ona ve; me pogleda: Mr—mrjav? Mnogo glavic mnogo ve: Živ, živ — žav! se vrabiči razprše. Riba zlatka? — Cav, ne bav! — nema bila, nema je! Nič ne bom več pravljic čital, lepe so, a lažne vse! MATI JERALA knjigo, sem življenja poleg jokala solze, polna skoro je trpljenja, o veselju malo ve. Slednji list pa o ljubavi materinski govori, ona v vsaki nam težavi čelo gladi in hladi. M. S-C. POSTANEK PREMOGA J^JER premogovi so rovi, Voda zemljo nanosila, stali nekdaj so gozdovi, obsežna debla zagrnila; zrušili so jih viharji— debla pa so zoglenela, kot jih zrušijo drvarji. v črni kamen se sprijela. So pretekla tisočletja ko so bila ta početja, danes to je premog črni, iz njega novci so srebrni . . . A. C. Katka Zupančič: Rdeči letaki ^OLITVE so se bližale in Bert se je ponudil očetu, da bo on namesto njega razdelil letake, ki jih je bil prinesel očetov prijatelj. Oče ni bil zadnje čase nič kaj trden v nogah, zato je bil sinove uslužnosti tako vesel, da mu je obljubil kar cel dolar, če razpeča vse. Ni poteklo pol ure, in Bert že stoji ob ulici in se smehlja. Dolar bo zaslužil, pa mu ni treba drugega nego stati na mestu in podajati liste. Vreme je lepo in ljudi dosti. Zmišljajoč, kako bo najbolje porabil dolar, se ozira po tleh. Ali so ljudje čudni! Toliko da vzamejo list v roke, ga že spuste na tla. Saj bi on sam lahko takole sipal papirje po tleh. Komaj je začel, pa so tla že nasmetena. “Hočeš, da ti pomagam?” Bert se o-zre v črne, iskreče se oči. “Aha, tudi ti bi rad zaslužil? Kaj bi si pa kupil?” “Veš, tri cele ducate kapseljčkov i-mam — pištolce pa ne. Nočejo mi je kupiti! Jaz bi pa tako rad streljal . . .!” “Tudi brez pištolce lahko streljaš, če drugega ne — kozle!” se zasmeje Bert in odpravi s tem dečka. Toda v tem je ležalo po tleh že toliko papirja, da se je zdelo Bertu najpametneje, če se preseli. “Tukaj že ne boš oviral prometa!” ga nažene prodajalka, in Bert se oddalji še za nekaj hiš. Ni to delo tako lahko in prijetno, kakor se mu je zdelo. Ljudje niso nič kaj prijazni, obzirni pa že celo ne. Dobrohotnih pogledov je malo, nasmeškov še manj. Niso pa redki taki, ki postrani poškile na papir, pa vržejo glavo v tilnik in ne stegnejo roke. Listov je pa dosti in tenki so. Ženska s psičkom v naročju. Ščene zarenči in kaže zobe. Ženska poboža pudeljčka in grdo pogleda Berta. Well, potrpeti bo treba. Nikoli se mu ni sanjalo, da je med ljudmi in ljudmi toliko razlike. Tale stari mož recimo. Počasi se pomika. Ljudje ga prehitevajo. Pred njim in za njim jih je polno. On pa momlja in govoril sam s seboj, kakor da bi ne bilo žive duše nikjer. Začuden premotri Berta, ko mu ta ponudi listič. Opre se ob palico in kima. “Papir. Vse imajo na papirju. V glavah pa nič. Seveda, v kočijah brez konj se vozijo; perutnice so si naredili in lete ko ptiči. Sploh se imajo za strašno učene, — pa crkajo od glada ob polnih piskrih . . . Kaj ,si se zazijal vame?” je iznenada za-rentačil nad Bertom. “Star sem. Ali ko sem bil tvojih let, sem imel vse zme-hurjene roke! Od dela, veš! Nisem ubijal časa in smetil ceste, kakor to delaš ti!” In zatrkal je s palico ob tla, da so se ljudje ozirali in je bilo Bertu tako nerodno, da se je kar hitro pobral in se ustavil daleč proč. Očetov dolar — težko ga bo zaslužil. Morda bo moral do pozne noči prenašati vse te sitnosti. Prideta dva. Režita se: “Vsakemu po enega? Pojdi no! Več nama jih daš, prej jih boš rešen!” Bert je vesten. Pošteno hoče opraviti svoje delo! “Saj jih bova razpečala. Ne boj se! V zabavo nama bo!” “Če jih bosta res?!” “Se razume! — Premalo! Več, več!” Bert zre vesel in hvaležen za njima. Kupček se je znatno zmanjšal. Toda zlikovca že nista prišla onstran križišča, ko sta že pričela ‘deliti’: metala sta liste v zrak in sapa jih je raznašala na vse strani. Preden bi naštel do petnajst, je bilo vse naokoli rdeče pokrpano. Bert je od silnega razočaranja o-drevenel, a se je kakor udarjen stresel, ko je zagrmelo za njim: “To je pa že od sile! Kdo, misliš, bo pometal za tabo? Poberi se s svojim rdečim smetjem, če ne . . .” MATI IN DETE Courtesy of Chicago Art Institute Bert je pobegnil tri bloke daleč. Najrajši bi odnesel vse skupaj domov in na skrivaj zmetal v peč. Toda obvezal se je, da bo letake razpečal in to bo storil! Nalašč! Tudi če ne bi šlo za dolar. Nič več ne bo gledal obrazov. Videl jih je dovolj. Dovolj oholih, topih, čme-rikavih, kislih obrazov odraslih in lažnivih mladih obrazov! Bert je jezen in žalosten. Deli plakate, pa gleda ljudem pod noge. “Halo, Bert!” Bert naglo dvigne oči. Toda Obraz je že mimo. Najbrž je bila katera od maminih prijateljic. Takoj mu je topleje pri srcu. Škoda da jih ne pride več — takih prijateljic. Nevede zopet pogleduje ljudi. Saj niso vsi tako o-durni, toda če je le vsak deseti tak, jih je preveč. Veselje je lahko ubiti. “Glejte, glejte! Bert nekaj deli!” pri-skovika skupina njegovih znancev. Med temi i njegov sošolec Bill, s katerim si pa nista nič kaj na roko. Oba sta sicer dobro odprte glave, toda Bill je precej stremuški in se brezobzirno rine povsod v ospredje. “Oho! Slišiš, kaj pa to?” se Bill z letakom v roki razkorači. “Ti delaš za rdečkarje!” Bert se hipoma spomni, da je tudi o-ni trgovec kričal nekaj o ‘rdečem’ smetju. “Brigaj se ti zase, ne pa zame!” odvrne zafrkljivo. “Zate se me brigam, marveč za to rdečo propagando! Ali te ni sram, da delaš za rdečkarje?” “Za kakšne rdečkarje?” vzroji zdaj Bert in zardi do ušes. “Rdečkarji so komunisti. Človek pa, ki nam je to izročil, je socialist! Jaz in vsi, ki ga poznamo, ga cenimo in spoštujemo, ker je poštenjak skoz in skoz!” Neprijetno mu je bilo, ker se je takoj nekaj radovednežev zgrnilo okrog njiju. Slavohlepni Bill si pa lepše prilike ni mogel želeti. “Poštenjak, seveda!” se mu je spačil obraz, “volk je v ovčji koži, kakor so vsi rdečkarji. Po demokratih in re- publikancih udrihajo, ker jim diši kapital, ki bi si ga radi prisvojli. Potem bi rušili in uničevali vse, kar so naši predniki zgradili. Pobili bi vse, ki imajo v glavi ali v žepu kaj več, nego oni. Zato ščuvajo delavce, da bi se svojim gospodarjem uprli ter tako pomagali njim do moči. Ameriko bi radi spremenili v Rusijo! Ti pa jim pomagaš?! Sramota!” Med ljudmi je zašumelo in nekaj jih je celo ploskalo. Dečki, ki so se doslej posmihavali zdaj temu zdaj onemu, so se polni občudovanja zastrmeli v Billa, ki se je zmagozavestno pozibaval na prstih. V Bertu vre. Da bi se podal? Molče priznal, da je ugnan? Ne in ne! Bert je trmast. Toda, kako si naj pomaga? Nikdar se za take stvari ni posebno zanimal. Zdaj mu je žal. Slišal je nekaj o socializmu, nekaj tudi o komunizmu. ki sta si med seboj nekako tako podobna kakor potok in hudournik. Tako mu je nekoč razlagal oče. Oboji, socialisti kakor komunisti so si postavili za cilj osvobojenje delavskih množic. Toda komunisti bi ta cilj radi dosegli na hitro, v skokih, kar bi pomenilo krvavo nasil je in tako ogromne žrtve, da bi jih človeštvo ne moglo zdo-bra preboleti. Rusija nam ne more in ne sme biti za vzor, mu je pravil oče. Prej je uboge ruske podanike tlačila in terorizirala carska vlada, od te ni bilo drugega pričakovati. Ali ko so s carstvom pometli in se je po strašni revoluciji povzpela do krmila rdeča garda — kakor so se imenovali komunisti, boljševiki — je ljudstvo kaj kmalu uvidelo, da se je v svojem pričakovanju v mnogočem varalo. Zakaj ta nova vlada je odpravljala zlo z zlom in se je pri tem razvila v pravi rdeči teror. Mnogo tega mu je oče pravil. Ali Bert si je predvsem zapomnil ‘rdeči teror’ in njega pomen, zato je nekam začrtil besedo ‘rdečkar’. Tako tudi razumemo, zakaj je Billovo očitanje imelo zanj še posebno ost. Toda vkljub prizadevanju ni in ni mogel obrati svojih misli, da bi Billa zavrnil, kakor bi ga rad. Večina ljudi pa je čakala, a ni varčevala z opazkami. “Takale dva mladca, pa se že pričkata o politiki!” — “Aih, mislil sem, da se je kakšna nesreča pripetila ...” — “Pa ti je žal, ker je ni, je res hudo ...” — Smeh. — “Kaj pa imata med sabo?” — “Tale svetlolasec se je ibaje udinjal rdečkarjem in zdaj ga le-oni z očali pridno krtači. No, mladi proletarec! Bo kaj, bo?” — “Ali pa zapoj: ‘Komedija je končana’, pa bomo šli.” Bertu je žgalo pri ušesih. Ze je 'bil na tem, da 'bi sebi in vsemu svetu navkljub zaklical: “Da, rdečkar sem In kdo mi more kaj?” ko je skoro nehote posegel po letaku in ga pričel čitati glasno ter čezdalje bolj zanosito: “ ‘Delavci! Zganite se! Ne podpirajte več kapitalistov! Kdor glasuje bodisi za demokratsko ali republikansko stranko, glasuje za profitarski sistem, ki je milijone nas delavcev pognal na cesto in v bedo. Zato doli z izkoriščevalci! Podprite svoje može!’ “Kaj je tukaj napačnega, vprašam? Ali ni res na milijone brezposelnih in v bedi? Ce sta to zakrivili kapitalistični stranki s svojim bedastim sistemom, kdo bo tako nor, da jih bo še nadalje podpiral? Rabi pamet, Bill, pa ne boš na teh plakatih videl nič rdečega!” in Bert je Billu obrnil hnbet v znamenje, da je zanj debate konec. Toda Bill se je že zopet oglasil: “Kaj je na teh listih rdečega? Vse od prve črke do zadnje! Delavci, kapitalisti, izkoriščevalci, profitarski sistem, to so besede, ki jih imajo rdečkarji vednsf na jeziku! Po teh besedah jih poznamo! Ali zdaj vprašam jaz: kako pa 'bi delavci živeli brez kapitalistov? Ford sam vzdržuje na tisoče delavskih dru- V • M zin . . . Bert se je pravočasno spomnil očetovih besed. ‘Ford ne vzdržuje nikogar!” je zaklical. “Ford je samo moj- ster v izkoriščanju. Delo jih vzdržuje, in njih delo vzdržuje tudi Forda in množi njegove milijone!” “Ne segaj mi v besedo!” ga je samozavestno ukoril Bill in nadaljeval: “Kakor sem rekel, kompanije, kapitalisti nam dajejo delo in zaslužek, skratka vse, kar nam je za življenje potrebno. Več ko narede profita, bolje je tudi za delavca. To je vendar jasno! Mar se ni ibaš v tej krizi pokazalo, kako slabo je za delavca, če kompanije ne izkazujejo profitov? Toda naš ameriški sistem je premagal že dosti kriz, pa bo i to. Zato bi ne smeli udrihati po njem, kakor to delajo rdečkarji! Kdo je pomagal Ameriki do razvoja? Kdo jo je dvignil na prvo mesto vsega sveta, če ne baš ta toliko obrekovani kapitalistični sistem ter republikanska in demokratska stranka, ki sta stebra tega sistema in s tem Amerike!” Bert ni bil zdaj več v zadregi. Ne enkrat, pač pa ob vsaki priliki se je njegov oče dotaknil gospodarskih vprašanj, ki so se zdela Bertu od sile dolgočasna. Toda ker je imel očeta rad, ni bilo druge poti, kakor da se je premagal in ga poslušal. Tako mu je nekaj le obviselo v spominu. Mirno je počakal, da je Bill končal, potem je pa začel: “Kaj pa je prvo in glavno: delo ali kapital? Iz česa se je razvil kapital, če ne iz dela? Komu bi torej kapital moral služiti, če ne v prvi vrsti tistemu, ki je delal zanj, to je delavcu? Komu pa služi v resnici? Peščici ljudi na vrhu in njihovim političnim hlapcem, to so tisti, ki so pri krmilu demokratske in republikanske stranke. Praviš, da sta to strebra ameriškega gospodarskega sistema in s tem tudi Amerike, kar pa je samo na polovico res. Steber Amerike je delavsko ljudstvo! Temu se je zahvaliti, da je Amerika tako napredovala in ta vkljub sistemu, ki ima za osnovo izkoriščanje, za cilj pa profit!” “Tako je!” se je v Bertovo zadoščenje oglasil nekdo izmed okoli stoječih. “Papiga!” je vzkliknil Bill porogljivo. “Well, če je temu tako,” :se je nasmehnil Bert, “sva papigi pač oba! Zakaj ne ti, ne jaz še nimava svojih skušenj !” Ljudje so se zasmejali. “Pa me zato ne bo nič več in nič manj”, je nadaljeval Bert, “če povem, da so to nazori mojega očeta in bodo kaj kmalu tudi moji nazori, ker spoznavam, da so ipravi. Nikdar ne bom podpiral sistema, ki delavca, kakršen je moj oče in na milijone drugih, izsesa-sava po dvajset in več let, pa ga nazadnje pusti na cedilu: ne potrebujemo te več, ni profita, lahko pogineš. Tako, da mnogi izgarani siromak nima, kamor bi glavo položil, dočim se bogatim parazitom niti ne sanja, da veseljačijo in se kažejo po vsem svetu vse na račun delavskih siromakov. Vsak zaveden delavec se ibo boril proti takemu sistemu, ki ne le dopušča, ampak povzroča take razmere. In zaveden delavec bom tudi jaz!” so se mu (zasvetile oči. Nihče ni odobraval, nihče ugovarjal. Tišino je prelomil šele glas: “Ta pa bo, kar bo! Ušesa mi bi rekla, da govori štiridesetletnik, oči pa, da mu ne more 'biti nego šestnajst let, ali pa še toliko ne!” Bert, ki je zopet nekoliko v zadregi mečkal letake zaradi nastale tišine, je odvrnil: “Res je mojemu očetu štirideset, meni pa šestnajst let.” Bill se je potajil. Delal se je, kakor da bi zdehal in je zdolgočaseno vrgel tjavendan: “Seveda, če mu je oče rdečkar . . .” in zmignil je z rameni. “Moj oče ni rdečkar!” je planil Bert. “Socialist je, ne pa komunist!” “Socialist ali komunist — sodrga rdeče je vse skupaj!” “Ti mojega očeta ne poznaš, pa vkljub temu bi ga rad sramotil?” “Še stepla se bosta!” se je dvignil ženski glas. “Naj se! Ko sem bil jaz njunih let, nisem bil zdrav, ako se nisem vsaj dvakrat na teden pomeril s kom na pesti!” se je zasmejal nekdo. Res bi bilo prišlo do spopada, da se ni še o pravem času preril do bojaželj-ne dvojice zastaven moški z mirnim glasom: “Ej, dečka! Kakor dva odrasla sta debatirala, pa bi se zdaj prav po otročje stepla? Kaj vama ne pade v glavo!” “Preklicati mora!” je zahteval Bert. “Ah, pojdi no! Še vsakdo, ki se upa dandanes izreči kako pametno, je že rdečkar. Saj jim je že celo Roosevelt v Washingtonu rdeč, dasi ga je glavna skrb, kako bi staro polomljeno kapitalistično mašino popravil in jo spravil v tek. Kar vzemi ti svoje tiskovine in me popelji k svojemu očetu. Prav rad Ibi ga poznal — Ti pa”, se je obrnil k Billu, “hiti, da boš čimprej bogat in kakšen kompanijski magnat, zakaj težko že čakamo drobtin s tvoje mize.” Billu se je poznalo, da z izidom ni niti najmanj zadovoljen. “Bogat ali ne-bogat, rdečkar ne bom nikoli! Rdečkar-ji so plevel, ki ga je treba iztrebiti”, je končal drzno. “Fant! Iz tebe govori nevednost. A si še mlad, zato ti ni zamere. Toda če se boš tega držal tudi ko dorasteš, boš ali izkoriščevalec, ali priganjač, ali pa samo kupček gnoja na kapitalistični njivi.” Pomignil je Bertu in sta odšla. Ljudje so se zopet domislili svojih opravkov in so se porazgubili. S plakati na tleh pa se je še vedno poigravala sapa ter jih raznašala ves večer in vso noč. Od hiše do hiše ... Ivan Jontez Q KLONJEN pod pezo let in revščine, je s tresočo se koščeno roko plašno potrkal na vrata ter čakal. Skozi okno je pogledala na verando postarana ženica okroglega obraza, srebrnih las in dobrodušnih sivih oči. Nato je obraz v oknu iziginil. Izžeti starec v obnošenem površniku, prelahkem za decemberski mraz, in z ogoljeno papirnato škatlo pod pazduho, je resignirano vzdihnil. Tudi tukaj ne bo nič, je pomislil ter se razočaran obrnil. A tedaj so zaječala vrata in prijazen ženski glas je vprašal v okorni angleščini: “Kaj bi radi?” Mož se je obrnil in v očeh mu je za-tlel odsev upanja. “Gospa, morda potrebujete sukanca, šivank, trakov, zaponk”, je z od mraza in starosti tresočimi se prsti začel razvezovati svojo škatlo. Jezik in naglas sta izdajala potomca anglosaških priseljencev. Ženica je odkimala ter z nedvoumno kretnjo pokazala, da kani zapreti vrata, ko se je stari krošnjar hipoma opogumil ter jo, ne brez težave, zaprosil: “Pa mi dajte vsaj skodelico tople kave, prosim, dobra gospa. Ničesar nisem še užil danes in zebe me tako . . .” V ženičinih drobnih sivih očeh se je utrnilo sočutje. “V kuhinjo stopite”, ga je povabila. V kuhinji. Krošnjar trepeta pri belo emajlirani kuhinjski mizi ter se radovedno ozira okrog sebe. Žena greje na štedilniku kavo. Kmalu stoji pred starcem skodelica tople kave, krožnik narezanega kruha in jabolčna mezga. Starec se na prijazno povabilo dobrodušne ženice hlastno loti kave in prigrizka. Vidi se, da je bil res lačen. Ženica ga sočutno opazuje pri tem. Tri skodelice tople, dišeče, mlečne kave in krožnik z jabolčno mezgo namazanega kruha je potolažilo krošnjar- jev kruleči želodec. Mož zadovoljno vzdihne, se ozre na svojo gostiteljico s hvaležnim pogledom, potem pa pokaže z očmi na stenski koledar Slovenske narodne podporne jednote: “Slovenci, kajne?” Žena prikima. “Jaz pa sem potomec prvih priseljencev, ki so prošli preko Atlantika na ladji Mayflower”, pojasnjuje krošnjar in njegov glas je narahlo pobarvan s trpko ironijo. “Potomec prvih priseljencev prosi poslednje priseljence za gostoljubje . . . Čudno, ni res, gospa, to življenje? . . Ženica se nasmehne. “Človdku se lahko vse pripeti”, meni. Nato zopet dene kuhat kavo za vnuka in vnukinjo, ki sta pravkar pridrvela iz šole in zdaj začudeno ogledujeta tujega moža. Kako pa vaš posel?” vpraša moža mimogrede. “Zanič!” potoži krošnjar. “Natančno sedam centov sem sikupil vse dopoldne . . .” “Razumem,” simpatično de ženica, “krošnjarjev je toliko zadnja leta, da drug drugemu kljuko podajajo in se jih ljudje žer kar boje ... In nazadnje človek ne more kupiti od vseh, kam bi z vso šaro, tudi če bi bil denar? Kako dolgo pa se že pečate s tem?” “Dve leti. Odkar sem ob delo. Ob vse!” pristavi in okolo tenkih brezkrvnih ustnic mu zatrepeta trpek usmev, huškne preko stisnjenega, izžetega o-braza in utone v vodenoplavih resigni-ranih očeh. “Eh, časih je bilo drugače! Imel sem dobro delo na železnici, prijazen dom, dobro ženko in dvanajst tisočakov prihrankov na banki — dovolj, sva si mislila z ženo, za brezskrbno, preskrbljeno starost. Toda današnji svet ne pozna nobene gotovosti: da- nes ste prepričani, da sedite varno na konju, jutri pa ležite na tleh s polomljenimi udi! Taiko se je zgodilo nama. Bančni polom je naju spravil ob vse prihranke, potem sem zaradi opešanega vida izgubil delo ibrez pokojnine, nato isva izgubila še hišo, kar je njo tako potrlo, da je kmalu shirala, k čemer je mnogo pripomogla nesrečna usoda najinega edinca, ki si je zaradi brezposelnosti vzel življenje, jaz pa sem se znašel na cesti, bolj ubog skoro kot sem se rodil. In ker človek ne more iti živ pod rušo, drugega zaslužka (pa starec ne morem več dobiti, sem se moral oprijeti Ikrošnjarjenja, ki za silo drži dušo in telo skupaj.” Hišna gospodinja ga sočutno pogleda. “Mnogo ste morali pretrpeti in žaltava je vaša živi jenska pot.” Nato pa se ženica domisli: “Toda, mar nimamo državne starostne pokojnine? Seveda jo imamo. Ali je vam ne dajo?” Brezkrvne ulstnice starega siromaka se izganejo v trpkem usmevu. “Premlad sem še — šele tri in šestdeset . . do starostne pokojnine, kakor je revna, pa so upravičeni šele petinšestdeset-letniki! Še .dve leti bo treba pokača-ti . . ” “In medtem lahiko od glada poginete!” zmaje iz glavo gospodinja. “Da . . prikima on, “in tako prihranim državi pokojnino . . Molž je nasičen in tudi ogrel se je. Vstane. “Tisočkrat vam hvala, dobra gospa, za vaišo gostoljubnost!” se zahvaljuje gospodinji, odpre svojo škatlo ter ji ponudi: “Izberite ,si kaj v povračilo za vašo dobroto, drugega vam ne morem dati . . .” Žena odmahne ,z roko, odpre kredenco ter vzame iz skodelice nekaj drobiža. “Nisem vam postregla za plačilo,” odgovori odločno, “temveč (ker je naša dolžnost, ^da si pomagamo v potrebi. Toda nekaj sukanca bom kupila od vas, nam bo že prišel prav.” Krošnjar j e ve oči se prevlečejo z vlago. “Tisočkrat hvala, dobra gospa!” se zahvaljuje z drhčočim glasom in povezuje svojo škatlo. “Sreča, da je še med revnimi delavci dobrih ljudi, sicer bi morali reveži kot jaz konec vzeti od vsega hudega! Good by.” In spremljan s pogledi dobrosrčne slovenske priseljenke odrine osiromašeni potomec mayflowerjevcev dalje, od vrat do vrat za pičlim kruhom . . . Jože Kovač: PRED ZIMO 2^ADNJI sad je šel z drevesa, ptice pevke so nam odletele. Zadnji list na veji še trepeče, le vsesvetnice so še vzcvetele. Njih cvetovi bledi so, prozorni, smrtni hlad z vrtov in gajev veje. Dolge sence so in nizko solnce, z zadnjimi močmi ljudi in zemljo greje. Toliko samo bo še sijalo, da poslednji list bo z veje snelo. Potlej se bo skrilo za meglo, vgasnilo . . Mesto, gozd in gaj—vse v sneg se bo odelo. Ivo Kozarčanin, Zagreb: Brez čevljev 2) DEŽJEM, ki se je usipal gost, lepljiv, jesenski, je postajal Ivanovič čedalje tišji, čedalje bolj žalosten in samoten. Glava, že tako vsa vdrta med ramena, se je spuščala niže in niže, kakor da jo upogibajo leta. To je že drugič, da ga je na hodniku ustavil ravnatelj (v spominu mu je le roka, ki ga je prijela za rame, mirne oči in šiljasta, siva, dobra brada): “Kaj res ne veš, da ne smeš hoditi v šolo bos? Si res ne daš dopovedati?” Ne, njegove oči niso bile stroge, tudi brada ga ni plašila, a vendar je bila to velika sramota. Izmed dveh sto dijakov ustavi ravnatelj ravno njega. Kako naj pojasni ravnatelju, da je bos samo zato, ker nima čevljev? Samo zato in zaradi nič drugega. Ravnatelj je dober (siva, šiljasta brada niha blago, očetovsko, ko se odpirajo usta). “Tam v Bosni, odkoder si prišel, tam si nemara lahko hodil bos; tam ste naj-brže tudi hodili bosi. Tu pa smo v mestu. In zakone imamo. V zakonih piše, da ni dovoljeno hoditi v šolo bos. Zakone morava poslušati jaz in ti. Veš, kaj so zakoni?” “Vem.” “Ti tega ne veš, a morda vendarle čutiš, da nihče ne sme delati proti zakonom. Ti pa, vidiš, delaš proti njim.” “Toda jaz ne bi hotel grešiti proti zakonom.” “Vem, da nočeš delati proti zakonom. Ti samo čevljev nimaš, in to je vse. A tole mi povej! Ko sem te pred kakimi desetimi dnevi poklical k sebi, češ, da ti jih bom jaz dal, si rekel, da jih ne potrebuješ, ker ti jih bo še tisti dan kupil oče sam. Tega je zdaj že deset dni!” Vendar ravnatelj ni bil strog. Saj bi ne bilo tako težko govoriti z njim, če ne bi stala na hodniku in če ne bi okrog in okrog njiju stali tovariši. Študentje so govorili ravnatelju: “On se samo baha zmerom: da bo dobil obleko, da bo dobil novo zimsko suknjo, da že ima čevlje in da jih samo varčuje—pa ni vse skupaj nič res.” In ravnatelj gleda čudno preko glav v stene, ki so razsvetljene le do polovice. Pozno je že, malo svetlobe prihaja še skozi okna. In dežuje. “Še dobro, da ne zboliš ?” vpraša ravnatelj nenadoma Ivanoviča. “Mene zebe, ko sem obut. In še daleč stanuješ nemara? In dežuje.” “Dežuje?” Tedaj Ivanovič ne odgovarja več na vprašanja, pa tudi ravnatelj je odšel, ker je bil odmor končan. Slišal je, kako na vrhu stopnic kriči slugi, naj prižge svetilke v razredih. Slišal je, kako na ulici žagajo drva. Slišal je pritajeni in mehki, kovinski ropot tramvajskih koles, ki teko po tračnicah, v katerih teče voda. Že kurijo v razredih. Plamen greje. Električna svetloba se vsiplje v slapovih na tla, na klopi in na stene. To je v šoli. Zunaj šole je Ivanoviču huje. Včasih, če dežuje, se pelje domov s tramvajem. Brez listka seveda, zvečer je zmerom polno ljudi, pa ga težko zasačijo. V priklopnem vozu pa, kjer se vozi on, je celo temno. V najhujšem primeru ga sprevodnik lahko spodi z voza, a to se je doslej dogodilo le dvakrat. “Kje imaš listek?” Molk. Sprevodnik se preriva med gosto natrpanimi potniki (ravno zato so se tako nagnetili na voz! si misli). Toda priklopni voz je odprt na obe strani, pa se sprevodnik niti enkrat ni mogel preriti do njega. Imel je celo čas, da je nekoliko počakal, da je tramvaj počasnil vožnjo, ko se je bližal postajališču, da je lahko skočil z voza brez nevarnosti. “Nimam listka,” je odgovoril šele zdaj. A to ni bilo niti malo drzno. Tudi sprevodnik je začutil, da ni niti malo drzno. In tedaj ni več kričal za njim. Huje je, kadar se najde kakšen usmiljen potnik, ki se mu reveži smilijo. Takoj se spusti v pogovor s sprevodnikom : “Kaj bi nemara tramvajska uprava propadla, če prepelje tudi kakšnega potnika brezplačno? Kaj je to takšna škoda?” Tedaj se sprevodnik razjezi: “Povejte to upravi, ne pa meni. Jaz nisem uprava. Jaz sem navaden delavec, ki se mora ravnati po predpisih, če hoče, da ne izgubi službe in da ne bodo hodili njegovi otroci tako, kakor tale tu! Mar naj voham, kdaj pride nadzornik?” Toda gospod ne odneha, uporno trdi dalje: “Saj zato ravno, ker ste delavec in siromak, zato! Morali bi imeti usmiljenje s svojimi ljudmi. Saj vidite, da je bos. Kako naj gre po dežju?” Zdaj sprevodniku vse skupaj že preseda: “Če vam je toliko do tega, pa mu plačajte vi. Meni je vseeno, kdo plača, a plačati se mora. Tako je, da veste.” Gospod izzvan potegne listnico iz žepa: “No . . . saj tudi bom plačal, mislite, da ne bom? Jaz se ne bojim, da izgubim službo kakor vi. A za dobro delo sem pripravljen, da jo celo izgubim, ste me razumeli? Takšen sem jaz.” Toda Ivanoviču je že od začetka dovolj, ker ga bližnji potniki ogledujejo in govore drug drugemu, za kaj gre. “Res je bos,” pravi mlad gospod mlademu dekletu, ki stoji ob njem. Ona se čudi: “Res, bos?” Ivanovič naglo reče usmiljenemu potniku in neusmiljenemu sprevodniku: “Ne, hvala, ni mi treba listka. Sem že doma. Ne, hvala, res mi ni treba listka.” Še preden se je tramvaj ustavil, je že skočil s tramvaja, ker ni maral gledati, kako daje gospod dinar in pol zanj. Noče, da bi se vozil na njegov račun. V luči uličnih svetilk se bleste pločniki, mokri od dežja in jesenske megle, ki vztrajno prši. Zato je pot iz šole težja kakor čas v razredu. Treba je iti celo uro. A še hujši (kakor pot iz šole in v šolo) so dnevi, ko hodi gospa iz istega dvorišča na trg. Tedaj vselej pokliče očeta Ivanoviča: “Pošljite mi svojega fanta, da mi bo pomagal nositi stvari. Saj ne bo zastonj, še vselej sem mu kaj dala. Ne maram, da mi kdorkoli karkoli zastonj naredi.” In potem gresta ona in Ivanovič. V tramvaju stoji zraven nje (ona plača oba listka) in čudno: sam sebi se zdi kakor pes. In potniki ga gledajo. Na trgu hodita dolgo med prodajalci in prodajalkami: “Vidiš, ta sir je lep. Ko prideva domov, ti ga dam košček. Si sploh kaj jedel zjutraj?” Ivanovič dekliško zardi in si ne upa pogledati tubasti nos gospe in njeno lice, razjedeno od pudran ja. “Sit sem, pa tudi ne maram sira. Nikoli ga nisem maral!” “Nimaš rad sira?” se čudi gospa. Tedaj sta ravno šla med stojnicami s sadjem. “Dobro, da sem se spomnila, kupiti moram banane in pomaranče. Si že kdaj jedel banane?” Spet je Ivanovič rdel in postajal zmeden. To je tem huje, ker so se mu ustnice pomodrile kakor slive od mraza, ki dobro in toplo zaviti gospej ne pride do živega, morda iz spoštovanja do denarja, ki ga je zapravila gospa za vso svojo obleko. “Seveda sem jih že jedel, pa še kolikokrat!” Celo z roko je zamahnil. “Vidiš, tega nisem vedela. Najbrže sem ti jih dala jaz, ko si mi kaj naredil.” “Ne, niste mi jih dali vi. Sam sem jih kupil. Hotel sem videti, kakšne so. Pa mi niso všeč.” Tako poteka čas na trgu. Ko prideta domov, mu da vselej dva dinarja, pa še sadja in kruha z medom ali marmelado. Tedaj pravi gospa: “Toliko ti nihče drugi ne bi dal, saj moram tudi tramvaj plačati zate. In dva dinarja sta za tebe bogastvo. Kaj boš storil z njima?” “Mami bom dal.” “Vidiš, ti si dober otrok, to me veseli, da vse, kar dobiš, daš svoji mami in ne zapravljaš za bonbone in kino. Tako mi ni žal, če ti kaj dam, ker vem, da vse prav obrneš.” Tisti dan pa je bilo v šoli takole: Zemljepisja niso imeli, ker je učitelj zemljepisja zbolel. Namestu njega je prišel mlad učitelj brez brk in brade, ki se je začel sprehajati pred klopmi in gledal učence. “Vsake sorte ste,” je rekel. Študentje so ga gledali nezaupljivo, a potem so se le opogumili. “Nismo vsake sorte,” so odgovorili. Učitelj se je smejal: “Vem, da ste dobri. To sem rekel kar tako, ne da bi bil kaj hudega mislil. Nikar ne bodite takoj užaljeni.” Potem je sedel na prvo klop ter jih izpraševal o vsem in vsakem, brez konca in kraja. Ko se je naveličal sedenja, se je sprehodil po šolski sobi, najprej po levi strani klopi, potem po desni, nazadnje po sredi. In tedaj se je ustavil pred Ivanovičem. “Ti si bos?” je vprašal. Ob takih prilikah Ivanovič vselej zardi. To ve ves razred, zato vsi radovedno gledajo vanj. “Nimaš čevljev?” je spet vprašal učitelj. “Nimam.” “A starše imaš?” “Imam.” “Očeta in mater?” “Oba.” “In kaj je tvoj oče?” “Bolan je, ker mu je padla tračnica na ramena. Toliko da ga ni zdrobila.” “Ali še lahko dela?” “Ne more.” “Pa mati?” Ves razred je vedel, da Ivanovič ne bo prenesel tolikega izpraševanja. Da se bo zmedel, zardel in zajokal. Zato vsi napeto čakajo. “Ali dela?” “Da.” “Kje dela?” “Ona je služkinja.” Tedaj je Ivanovič res zajokal, a ne toliko zato, ker ga je sram, da je moral priznati, da je njegova mati služkinja, ampak zato, ker je vedel, da so vsi čakali, kdaj bo zajokal. Toda tedaj se je učitelj nenadoma nagnil k njemu, kakor da je tudi njemu samemu nerodno, da ga je toliko izpraševal. “Nikar ne jokaj zaradi tega,” mu je govoril. “To ni nič takega, da bi jokal. Zakaj bi se sramoval, da je tvoja mati služkinja? To ni nič sramotnega, pač pa hudo in težko, še bolj za tvojo mater kakor zate. Nikoli se ne sramuj siromaštva, pa tudi ponosen ne bodi nanj, ker ni to ne za ponos ne za sramoto. To je zelo težko in hudo. A da ti povem po pravici, tudi moja mati je bila služkinja. Tudi mene je bilo prav tako sram kakor tebe. Zdaj me ni več sram tega, pa tudi ponosen nisem na to. Samo to bi rad, da bi mati še živela, ker se je mučila vse življenje, pa bi se zdaj malo odpočila. Rad bi ji vrnil vsaj del tistega, kar je storila zame. In tudi jaz sem hodil bos v šolo kakor ti.” Ogenj je prijetno prasketal v peči. Zunaj v oblakih je bilo nekaj zvezd. Saj sploh ni tako mrzlo (ali pa se je to samo Ivanoviču tako zdelo?). Učitelj je stopil po sobi. “In . . . nikar ne jokaj,” je rekel Ivanoviču. “Ne ... ne bom.” “In rad imej svojo matar. Ne to dolgo vzdržala v tem delu, to je gotovo. Ce pa vzdrži, glej, da se ji oddolžiš, kakor hitro boš mogel. Le to je važno in le to je prav.” Ivanovič je pozneje dobil čevlje. Očetu je tovarna, za katero je delal, ko se je ponesrečil, nazadnje vendarle izplačala odškodnino. Tedaj so kupili tudi drva za zimo in vse se je uredilo. Toda Ivanovič je vsakikrat, kadar je srečal na hodniku mladega učitelja brez brade in brk, gledal v zemljo, ves zardel in ni upal dvigniti pogleda k njemu. (Poslovenil M. K.) G. BELLOWS ZIMSKI SPORT Courtesy of Chicago Art Institute ‘POGOVOR S ČITATELJI ZAKLJUČEK KONTESTA Naš natečaj ali kontest, ki je bil razpisan za dopisnike Mladinskega Lista v septembru in se zaključil 31. dec. 1935, je bil zelo uspešen. Odzvalo se je lepo število kontestantov s slovenskimi in a ngleškimi dopisi. To je dokaz, da se naša šolska mladina zanima za svojo organizacijo in njeno mladinsko glasilo. Večina dopisov je bila dobra, nagrade zanje pa bo določila trojica gl. odbornikov, ki je bila določena, da to delo po svoji najboljši sodbi izvrši. Razume se, da ne bo mogoče ustreči z nagradami vsem kontestantom, kajti določenih je bilo le DESET nagrad. Nagrajenih bo onih deset dopisov, ki jih bodo sodniki smatrali za najboljše. Torej oni, ki so najbolje povedali zakaj hočejo biti aktivni člani SNPJ in kaj pričakujejo od nje, bodo deležni ene deseterih nagrad. Pravila kontesta so vključevala dva glavna pogoja: ZAKAJ hočem biti aktiven član (članica) SNPJ, ko dosežem predpisano starost, in KAJ pričakujem od SNPJ. Upošteval se bo le en dopis vsakega kontestanta; če je morda kdo napisal dva, enega slovenskega in enega angleškega, se bo upošteval le eden. Ako je kdo kopiral ali prepisal dopis drugega kontestanta, se ne bo upošteval. Dopisi kontestantov so bili priobčeni v Mladinskem Listu v jeziku, v katerem so bili spisani. V tej številki so priobčeni zadnji, ki so bili oddani na pošto do 31. dec. 1935. Kontesta se je lahko udeležil vsak član (članica) mladinskega oddelka SNPJ. Rezultat bo objavljen prihodnjič. —UREDNIK. ODMEVI KONTESTA Cenjeni urednik! Tudi jaz želim nekaj napisati za kontest.— Ko sem bila stara 2 leti, so me moji starši vpisali v SNPJ. Seveda nisem taikrat ničesar vedela o tej organizaciji ne o ničemer drugem. Sedaj sem pa stara 14 let in se zavedam, da je SNPJ največja slovenska podporna organizacija v Ameriki. Prestala je mnogo težav, ampak z dobrim vodstvom in članstvom se je povzdignila na prvo stopnjo. Zato bom ostala njena članica tudi ko dopolnim predpisano starost. (Slovenski mi gre še bolj slabo, učim se pa kar naprej.) Mary R. Nolimal, Box 181, Franklin, Kans Dragi urednik! Podpisani sem č.an društva št. 300 SNPJ v Braddooku. V maju bom star 13 let. Ko bom dorastel, bom postal aktiven član 'SNPJ, ker je najboljša in poštena organizacija, ki nam pomaga v stiski in 'bolezni bolj kakor nobena druga. Zato pričakujem, da bo vedno bolj rasla in se razcvitala še mnogo let. Zato kličem iz srca: Naprej! Živela SNPJ! John Križane, Box 886, Pitcairn, Pa. * * Dragi urednik! Član SINPJ sem postal zato, da sem v organizaciji. Ko bom dorastel, bom pomagal graditi našo organizacijo, da bo še močnejša in večja. Skrbel bom, da bomo korakali naprej. Slišal sem, da je ISNPJ zato zrastla tako velika, ker ima dobre voditelje. Brez dobrega vodstva ne bi bila tak orjak. Njen član sem postal tudi zato, ker bi v slučaju moje smrti imela moja mati tudi pomoč za kritje strošikov. Mene moja mama uči slovenski pisati in brati, če ni kaj prav, prosim, da popravite. Prihodnjič bom napisal kako moj ata dela in koliko zasluži. Frank William Pečjak, Greensboro, Pa. * * Cenjeni urednik! SNPJ je najboljša in najmočnejša slovenska podporna organizacija v tej deželi. Ona nam ne nudi le podpore, pač pa tudi izobrazbo potom Mladinskega Lista in Prosvete. Prosveta prihaja že mnogo let v našo hišo, tudi po smrti mojega očeta, član SNPJ sem že približno 12 let, odkar me je moj oče vpisal, tako tudi moj brat. Po smrti mojega očeta je pristopila tudi moja sestra in moja mati. Spominjam se še, ko je ibil moj oče več iko leto dni bolan in je točno vsak mesec prejemal podporo. In ko je smrt vzela očeta, nam je otirala solze naša ljubeča mati — SNPJ, ki je pošteno izplačala smrtnino. In ko bom dorastel, 'bom njej v zahvalo aktiven član. (Društvo 450.) Louis Janežič, 977 E. 239th s.t., Euclid, O. * * Dragi urednik! Zakaj sem članica SNPJ ? Zato, ker vem, da je dobra in velika organizacija, ki skrbi za svoje člane vsaki čas. Ko bom zrastla, bom skrbela, da bo v SNPJ dobro vodstvo, kakor je sedaj. Ako ne bi imela dobrega vodstva, ne bi zrasla tako velika kot je sedaj. Zdi se mi kakor ena velika, velika družina.— Pozdrav vsem čitateljem M. L. Oglasila se bom še, če ne boste tega dopiska vrgli v Vaš koš, ki menda nima dna. (Stara sem 11 let in članica društva 101.) Angela Pečjak, Greensboro, Pa. Dragi urednik! Stara sem 12 let in sem članica društva št. 119 SNPJ. Aktivna in zvesta članica, ko dorastem, bom postala zato, ker SNPJ je vedno v boju za delavske pravice in nas izobražuje. Kakor dobra mati za svoje otroke, tako ona skrbi za nas v bolezni in nesreči. Ona otira solze sirotam. Prepričani bodimo, da ona nam bo pomagala, če jo prosimo. Bojujmo se zoper sovražnike naše dobre SNPJ! Naprej po začrtani poti! Lorraine Miller, 909 Lincoln st., Waukegan, 111. * * Cenjeni urednik! Aktivna članica SNPJ, ko dosežem predpisano starost, bom postala zato, ker se veselim, da se bom lahko udeleževala mesečnih sej. Na sejah sme vsak član povedati svoje mnenje. Želim in potrudila se bom, da se ustanovi angleško poslujoče društv.o. Tu je precej mladine, ki je napredna in jo bom skušala prido7 biti v našo organizacijo. Pričakujem pa od SNPJ še mnogo izobrazbe. Z veseljem čitam Mladinski List in Prosveto. Za nas mlade bi bilo zelo koristnega pomena, če se bi ustanovila svobodnomiselna šola. (Društvo 277.) Virginia Mikolich, 55 Ridgeway st., Struthers, O. * * Dragi urednik! Na vsako vprašanje se dobi odgovor. Zakaj sem član SNPJ? Srečen sem, da sem član te organizacije — ne le jaz, temveč vsak Slovenec, Hrvat in Srb — ker je bila ustanovljena na pravi podlagi, svobodnomiselni in delavski. SNPJ je prava mati svojim članom. Podpira jih v bolezni, nesreči in potrebi ter v slučaju smrti. Vsem deli enako pomoč po pravilih. Zato naj SNPJ živi, naji se razvija in raste, da bo nad vse ostale razširila svoja krila! (član društva 323.) Ivan Perlich, 904 E. Ayer st., Ironwood, Mich. * * Cenjeni urednik! Podpisani sem star 12 let in 11 let sem že član SNPJ, ki je najboljša slov. podporna organizacija v tej deželi. Ona nam ne nudi le podporo, pač pa tudi izobrazbo potom svojih listov. SNPJ izdaja Mladinski List, Prosveto in knjige. Upam, da bom vse svoje življenje dober član jednote. Nobena druga stvar nam ne more toliko koristiti v slučaju bolezni ali nesreče kakor SNPJ. Moj oče je dobil že veliko podpore od SNPJ v svoji bolezni. SNPJ je prava mati nam, ki smo njeni člani, kakor je mati svojim otrokom. John Tolar, box 438, Rock Springs, Wyo. KONTEST JE DOBRA ŠOLA Cenjeni urednik! To je moj prvi dopis v tem letu. Dopisi v “Kotičku” so se zadnje čase podvojili, če ne celo potrojili! Vzrok tej aktivnosti v dopisovanju je kontest, ki je bil razpisan za dopisnike Mladinskega Lista. Seveda, tak kontest z nagradami je zelo privlačen za mlade člane, a obenem jim je tudi zelo koristen in podučen, ker jim vzbuja zanimanje za jedno-to in jih navaja k spoznavanju njenih svo-bodnomiselnih načel in idej. Te vrste kontesti v Mladinskem Listu bi se morali od časa do časa ponavljati, ker to bi ibila, po mnenju mojega očeta, najboljša svobodnomiselna šola za mlade člalne, šola, ki bi bila mogoča in vsem dostopna, izpeljiva in — predvsem — najcenejša ! Letos imamo v naših krajih precej hudo zimo. Snega in mraza imamo zadosti, tako da nam ni treba rabiti pahljač, ker burja piha neprestano. Tudi v dlani ni treba pljuvati, ker je dosti snega. Ker nimam nič več za poročati, zato sklenem ta dopis in pozdravljam člane in članice in čitatelje širom Amerike, in Vas! Na svidenje prihodnjič! Josephine Mestek, 638 N. 9th st., Clinton, Ind. * * ZAHVALA SNPJ ZA VOŠČILO Cenjeni urednik! Zopet hočem napisai par vrstic in poskusiti mojo srečo sedaj ob novem letu. Morda bo imel moj dopis več uspeha v tem le.tu. Najprej se moram lepo zahvaliti SNPJ zai božično voščilo, ki me je zelo razveselilo.—Tukaj je precej mrzlo in tudi precej snega je padlo. Za božič smo imeli dva tedna počitnic, tako da smo se lahko vsaki dan sankali in drsali. Na 2. januarja pa spet nazaj v šolo. Moja sestra Ludvika in jaz pošiljave pozdrave družini Vodopivec in vsem čitateljem Mladinskega Lista! Milka in Ludvika Kopriva. 1709 Romiine ave., McKeesport, Pa. * * NAŠ MLADINSKI KONCERT Dragi urednik M. L.! To pisemce sem napisala 17. dec. 1935. Na 8. septembra 1935 se je vršil velik mladinski koncert v Public avditoriju v sredi mesta. Nastopile so sledeče skupine: “Slavčki”, pevski zbor iz St. Clair ave., Slovenska šola iz Col-linwooda, “Škrjančki” iz Euclida in “Kanarčki” iz Newburgha. Ta koncert skupnih slovenskih mladinskih društev se je vršil pod imenom “Slovene United Junior Chorus.” Iz Newiburgha smo se peljali v avtobusu. Med potjo smo veselo prepevali in mahali. 0- stali so se pripeljali z avti. Mi smo odpeli 11 pesmi. Po koncertu smo se peljali v Slovenski narodni dom na St. Clair. Na 22. sept. smo spet imeli parado na St. Clair ave., na 14. dec. pa so “Kanarčki” uprizorili dve kratki igri. Peli smo razne lepe slovenske pesmi v zboru, solih in duetih. Jaz sem pela v duetu z Albino Kodek. Potem je nastopil pa Miklavž s svojim običajnim spremstvom. Dragi dopisovalci! Ko boste to čitali, bo božič že .minil, tako tudi novo leto. Upam, da ste se čez praznike imeli dobro. Upam tudi, da je bilo dovolj snega, ker se ga otroci povsod veselijo. Želim, da bi bilo mnogo slovenskih dopisov v “Kotičku” skozi vse leto. Pozdravljam vse čitatelje! Rose Koprivnik, 8514 Vineyard ave., Cleveland, O. * * PIŠIMO SLOVENSKI! Dragi urednik! Tudi jaz sem se odločil, da napišem kratko slovensko pisemce. Ko čitam razne dopise, vidim, da je največ angleških dopisov. Zato sem se pa odločil, da tega napišem po slovensko. Bratci in sestrice! Kar slovenske dopise pišimo, tako da bomo našega urednika razveselili, ko bo videl, da se zavedamo, da smo otroci slovenskih staršev. Angleško že itak znamo, ker je tu naša domovina. Na 7. feb. 1936 bom star 15 let. Hodim v 9. razred v Central Hi school. Mi vsi—-vsa naša družina—smo pri društvu št. 315 SNPJ. Pa tudi angleško poslujoče društvo imamo v Cantonu. Pa tam me še ne veseli. Namenil sem se, da ibom za prihodnji mesec še kaj napisal. Seveda moram povedati, da mi pri tem pisanju pomaga tmoja mama. Zato Vas tudi prosim, da popravite moje napake. Rad pišem in čitam slovenski, pa tudi kako lepo pesem zapojem. Pozdravljam vse čitatelje in dopisovalce M. L.! Edward Kompara, 1608 Sherrick rd., Canton, O. mJUVENILEf MONTHLY MAGAZINE FOR YOUNG SLOVENES IN AMERICA O Volume XV CHICAGO, ILL., JANUARY, 1936 Number 1. WHY SHOULT) I WRITE— By MARY JUGG U/HY should I ivrite of things that are not— Such as goddesses, spirits, imaginary lot— Of unseen powers that govern our fate, And all we must do is to sit still and wait— Of make-believe wonders and castles and dreams, When so much of the ivorld with ugliness teems;— Of pictures and fancies that make our minds soar— When the world’s filled ivith dreamers and idlers galore. Why should I write of things as they are— Where cruel realities our gay pleasures bar— I have you, my friend; you cannot escape Or make better your state ’til you’re master of fate— ’Til you understand where the cruelty breeds Neither grass nor bright flowers can grow through the weeds. When the grime and the weeds we can full clearly see, We can lay the foundation for the world that’s to be— So radiantly glorious ivith the wonders ’twill weave That our wildest dreams now cannot even perceive. BY HE FIRESIDE J-JOW well I know what I mean to do When the long dark autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose O’er a great ivise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose! Till the young ones whisper, finger on lip, “There he is at it, deep in Greek: Now, then, or never, out we slip To cut from the hazels by the creek A mainmast for our ship!" I shall be at it indeed, my friends! Greek puts already on either side Such a branch-work forth as soon extends To a vista opening far and wide, And I pass out where it ends. Robert Browning. THE NIGHTINGALE QWEET bird, that shunn’st the noise ° of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee chauntress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy even song; And missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry, smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon Riding near the highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven’s wide pathless way; And oft, as if her head she bow’d, Stooping through the fleecy cloud. J. Milton. Petition By Anna P. Krasna apE'LLOW citizens,” said Mr. Justem, the chairman, “Mr. Hunthem, our secretary, has procured a list of road supervising expenditures for our township for the last two years. Will someone make a motion that the list is read to the here assembled taxpayers?” “I make a motion to that effect,” proffered promptly a young chap renting a shack iby the roadside. “And I second the motion”, put in swiftly the know-it-all village loafer. The chairman’s face frowned, but he resumed his duties solemnly and quickly. “Motion is being made and seconded that the list of expenditures is read at this meeting. All those in favor of the said motion say, aye.” “Aye”, grumled the taxpayers. “Contrary? None. Fine spirit! Mr. Hunthem, you may read off your list now. Everybody, please, pay attention.” Mr. Hunthem rose slowly, moved his chew to the other side of his mouth and began to read, then compare. The taxpayers listened, exchanged meaning glances, and grumbled occasionally as the comparison showed sheer squandering of money by the former set of their road supervisors. Their eyes narrowed dangerously when the figures ran into thousands of dollars. The atmosphere in the dingy hall grew somewhat hot, and one guilty fellow coughed uneasily while making his way toward the door on presumption of seeking some fresh air. All eyes followed him, and the low grumbling rose to an enraged massmurmur. The chairman’s gavel, however, soon restored the peacefull attention. The reading and comparing continued Without further interruption. Mr. Justem’s count- enance expressed officially pleased satisfaction; he was always a bit proud of his “co-boosters” when they complied with the rules of his authoritative discipline. Mr. Hunthem’s chew was back in the regular place, and Mr. Chairman spoke: “You have heard the facts and figures now, fellow-jcitizens, and they are very convincing! They show distinctly and clearly which set of supervisors actually tried to serve the taxpayers. But, nevertheless, I have a reason to ask you to openly voice your opinion—if you were to decide between the two sets, which one would you entrust with supervising duties again ?” The taxpayers gruntled indignantly. “Rats, ain’t it plain Which?” “So it is, fellow-boosters, very plain, but in spite of that a petition asking for dismissal of our present road supervisors is being circulated, and some of you taxpayers have signed it!” “What the deuce—” “Patience, please, everything will be explained, that’s why we called this meeting tonight. But before we go on, I’ll have Mr. Clerer here read to you the petition that the citizens opposed to the before mentioned petition have prepared. Mr. Clerer, here is our petition, please, read it as audibly as you possibly can.” Mr. Clerer, having a suitable voice and some higher education to his credit, did some very oratorical reading for the next ten minutes. The taxpayers’ faces beamed proudly. And that was a fine petition, containing just what they would have had put in it themselves. They nodded approval to one another, their eyes signifying the fact that it pays to elect smart, educated fellows to important positions. Their appreciation was exhibited fully by the thunderous cheering and clapping at the conclusion of Mr. Cle-rer’s eloquent reading. Shouts of encouragement and consent bursted forth from all sides. “That’s the way, boys! give the honest guys our credit and support, and hell to those others!” Mr. Justem was delighted, but he realized the importance of his position at any event. “All right, fellow-citizens,” he rapped, “I am immensely pleased to witness such fine enthusiasm, but—,” they were still noisy, and he rapped some more, “—but, I am here to keep the meeting going!” The noise subsided then and he continued, “You have heard what is presented in our petition, and now I’ll ask you to file past this table and sign the petition. Do I hear any objections to this? None. That’s excellent! Let’s begin.” He signed first and half of an hour later the last signature was safely affixed, and the general business resumed. With proper formality, the chairman then introduced a young attorney, Mr. Gethem, who was a native of the troubled township, and for that reason accorded exceedingly warm welcome. “Hurrah! Mr. Gethem! Let’s hear Mr. Gethem! We want him to handle our case! Come, Mr. Gethem, give us some legal advice!” Mr. Justem, the chairman, lifted his gavel and let it rap so that it accentuated his displeasure at such an prolonged and disorderly demonstration of esteem. “That’ll do now, boys! Order, please!” Order restored, Mr. Chairman turned politely toward the young attorney, and bowed slightly. “Mr. Gethem, it would please us extremely if you’d honor us with a short talk.” The attorney was an amiable fellow. Smilingly, he stepped forward, and pulling a sheaf of papers from his coat-pocket, began to talk in low but clear voice. “Being an attorney”, he said, “this case of your township road-supervising problem interests me very much, and I am decidedly pleased to have an opportunity to legally aid the taxpayers of this township in this particular case. To win the case, however, we’ll need all the evidence we can possibly gather. There is the question of the signatures, for instance. I do not know under wlhat pretext the petition, asking for the dismissal of the present supervisors, was circulated, but the charges are, or seem to be, that the present supervisors’ economy is practically ruining some of the township’s roads and machinery. The statement, of course, is false, as most of you taxpayers know, yet, the petition is signed by a large number of taxpayers who are present at this meeting! It would be interesting and of much value as well to have someone that signed the said petition furnish an explanation. Is anyone willing to tell us wihy he had signed the petition in question?” “Sure, I tell it”, said a husky voice from assemblage. “They tole me it was ordered from the courthouse, so I think maybe I better sign.” “Hm . . . Thank you. Anyone else willing to give further explanation?” “Yes, me, mister.” “All right, step up front here, if you wish to.” “0, no, no, I tell every tink here. Yes, the petition, they say petition good for citizens, so I sign.” “More good facts. Some more coming?” “You bet. Here is another damn fool that signed for the same reasons. But I signed this other petition, too, so they’ve got nothing on me.” “Not so sure of that, my good man, if they lose, you’ll be obliged to help pay the costs.” “0, yeah? Well, I am all the more a goddamn fool then.” The whole assemblage roared with laughter, then suddenly another sullen looking man stood up. “So we been cheated, eh? And we help pay the coast? By gimmel, I pay right now!” Without further comment he grabbed a chair and dived for the fellow that made him sign the petition. “I’ll teach you, you dirty skunk, you son . . .” The dirty skunk, however, had no desire to be taught anything in such manner. He leaped toward the door and out into the night as fast as he could manage, while the more peaceful taxpayers tore the chair from the angry man’s grip, “You don’t gain nothing that way, John”, they were saying to him, but John already had a pen-knife in his hand, and holding it high up in the air, he dashed througfh the door. “I’ll show him, the . . .” “And me, too, John, get him, we’ll give him court orders, the god . . .”. They finished the rest outside. More men followed them, some with intentions to pacify, others to give vent to their grievances. Mr. Justem swung the gavel with all his authority, and finally the gavel gave out. With the broken stick of the handle in his hand, he shouted for order and discipline until he found that he was left alone with Mr. Gethem, the attorney, who was putting on his coat in a hurry. From outside he could hear tumult of angry voices and thumping sounds. “They must be fighting one another now”, he muttered to himself, and then aloud in the direction of Mr. Gethem: “Better wait, Mr. Gethem, the boys are having a little fist fight, I presume, but they’ll be right back”. But the attorney was already on his way, only the flying ends of his coat being yet visible to Mr. Justem, the chairman. “Well”, said Mr. Justem wisely, “there goes our legal advice,” and picking up the scattered parts of his gavel, he stepped outside and yelled at the top of his lungs: “That’ll do, boys, you all come back now and discuss the petition in a more orderly manner!” Try These Riddles Round as a saucer, deep as a cup, and the Mississippi River can’t fill it up; what is it? A flour sifter. Tie it up and it walks; unfasten it and it stops; what is it? A shoe. What is being worn in women’s hats this year? Heads. When the dog ran after the cat, how did the green persimmon taste? Bit’er. What is a ten-letter word meaning a holdup ? Suspenders. If a goat swallowed a rabbit, what would be the result? A hare (hair) in the butter. When is a doctor most annoyed? When he is out of patients. MARTHA S. BAKER PORTRAIT Courtesy of Chicago Art Institute Local Color 'Uhe Civilized Indian Qirl By Frank Sodnikar “JUST call me Annie. It is-n’t my real name, but everyone would laugh if they’d have to call me by my Indian name, White Flower. You see, I’m a civilized Indian!” She accented the “civilized” sarcastically. Annie was a waitress in a Baraboo, Wisconsin, restaurant. Her broad bronze face and straight black hair typified the open spaces and didn’t harmonize at all with her prim white laundered smock. She never smiled, went about her duties with a bored look, used everyone with frigid insolence and was perfectly indifferent to the customers. She talked only after being spoken to a few times, and even then assumed a sneering attitude to show a superiority she didn’t feel. Once I asked her why she 'had never been dismissed for her impertinence. She smiled sarcastically. “Why, I’m ‘local color’ around here. The white people come in here so they can go back home and brag that they were actually served by a squaw! I do my duties as demanded of me,” she continued, anger and resentment creeping upon her and making her speech very rapid. “What do you want me to do, pale-face, also talk heap big Indian lingo?” Then I found her reading poetry. “Pretty high class stuff, not?” I blurted out and was sorry the next moment. She misunderstood, and was hurt. “Sure, for an Indian, not? Well, I told you before: I’m a civilized Indian!” She again accented the “civilized.” The remark had made her angry. For once she was willing to talk about herself so as to convince me that the white man can’t consider the red man inferior. Civilization is a funny thing. Annie wasn’t civilized until she was ten years old, when she started in the first grade of school. Until then, she had heard all about her uncivilized ancestors. Her father told her about the Algonquin who every full moon sat outside his teepee and admired the moon. She was told about the Indian warrior who had dared the rapids of the river in its spring rush because he heard that a girl, prettier than all the stars, lived at the other end. She heard of another who gave his brother his last arrow and himself stayed behind to be devoured by the horde of wolves that was pursuing them. She was happy in her admiration of her ancestors. Then she went to school. Once she ran out of the classroom crying, because the teacher had described Ouster’s Last Stand and blamed the slaughter of the white people on a drunken Indian chieftain, Sitting Bull. Her father had told her that the Indian was right in opposing the white invaders of his territory. It was the Indian’s country and no one had a right to take it away from him. The principal called her a “wild swine” for running out of the room, and threatened to send her to a bad girls’ school if she didn’t believe what was told her. After that Annie tried to be a good girl and forgot her wild Indian spirit. She tried hard to be as civilized as the white girls. One summer she worked as a guide on a sight-seeing boat in the Wisconsin Dells. Dressed in a buckskin costume, mocassins and a feather in her hair, she had to stand at the prow of the boat and pretend to be an Indian princess staring blank-eyed into space and talking her descriptions as from a dream. Often she held back tears and her voice shook as she looked at the river waters rushing between crags rising perpendicularly into the blue skies. Nature had made this beauty for one’s personal satisfaction and now civilization was making money by advertising it a hundred miles around, packing gapping tourists into boats and pointing out to them the marvels their civilized souls could not see for themselves. Once she couldn’t subdue her disgust and let out a tirade at the customers on the boat. For once she told them what she considered true. They thought she was suddenly insane and almost panicked on the boat. “What has civilization done for me?” she asked arrogantly, after she had finished her story. “It has reduced me from a woman who would be happy bearing children for some loudly-painted warrior, into a parcel of commerce, as little human as this fork I’m holding and only good for the circus tent— I’m no woman, I’m local color!” I was pleased after that talk. I felt that I had broken through her shell, and that we were friends. She surprised me. As I was paying my bill, she asked me as insolently as ever. “You ought to give me a bigger tip today for all the pleasure I gave you to study me under a microscope as though I were a butterfly! You see, civilized local color must live!” she laughed. PUNCTUATION PEOPLE By Norah Smardige 0F ALL the punctuation folks I like the comma best, For when I’m getting out of breath He lets me take a rest! The period’s a busy man, A reading “traffic cop”; He blocks the helter-skelter words And brings them to a stop. Quotation marks are curious! When folks to talk begin, You’ll always find these little marks Are busy “listening in.” The question mark’s a little dwarf, He’s small, but very wise; He asks too many questions For a fellow of his size! A Beautiful Friendship By Louise Millinger ROYALTY, devotion, friendship and love—these are traits of character usually attributed to humans. I once knew of a dog- who possessed them all —and more. His name was “Shep” and he was a shaggy, brown and white fellow of the breed indicated by his name. He lived on a ranch on the edge of a small town near the Kansas-Colorado state line. “Buck,” an old buckskin, who had been a faithful family horse for many years before he was pensioned to a life of ease, was the other member of this remarkable friendship. Each morning Buck went out to the pasture, and all day he grazed there. In the evening he came plodding slowly home. Old and feeble, but contented and happy! Buck and Shep had lived in the same family all their lives, but it was not until the old horse became blind that their beautiful friendship began. It was then that Shep took it upon himself to be the protector and guardian of the old horse. Walking close beside him, he took him to the pasture in the morning and brought him safely home at night. Day after day, month after month, for more than a year, wherever the old horse went the dog led him. Shep and Buck! Inseparable pals! And then a strange thing happened. Old Shep began to train “Jerry,” one of the younger dogs on the place, to accompany them to tihe pasture every day. Carefully and painstakingly, he worked until there were three pals instead of two. How he trained Jerry no one ever knew. It must have taken a great deal of wisdom and patience for an old dog to teach a younger one to watch over an old horse. Yet Shep did just that. One day Buck and Jerry went out to the pasture alone. Shep had gone off somewhere to die, as old dogs often do. But he had done his work well, for Jerry carried on in his place until the end of old Buck’s days. Did Shep know he was going to die, and was that his reason for training Jerry to do his work? Did his great love and loyalty, and the sterling quality of his friendship prompt him to do this? In my heart, I firmly believe that “Yes” is the answer to both questions. —(Our Dumb Animals.) A Real Friend Johnny and Jimmy, two young friends, were trying to learn a new game. Johnny “caught on” much more quickly than Jimmy, and after the game an onlooker said to Johnny, “You are a lot smarter than Jimmy.” And what do you suppose Johnny said? Jimmy had gone, and Johnny could have easily strutted a bit because of his superiority. But Johnny wasn’t that kind. “Oh, Jimmy is all right,” he ans- wered; “he’s a year younger than I am, and he isn’t used to playing many games. He’ll catch on, and he’ll be good at it, too.” That was mighty decent in Johnny, don’t you think? He wasn’t looking for a chance to show that he was smarter than his friend. Instead, he was ready and eager to defend Jimmy when anybody said anything against him. Jimmy is pretty lucky to have a friend like Johnny.—Sunshine Magazine. CHATTER. CORNER., EDITED BY JOYFUL MEMBERS of Me S.N.P.J. THE LETTER-WRITING CONTEST Closed in This Issue “FIFTY dollars in ten cash prizes for contributors of the Mladinski List!” That was the offer announced by the M. L. in its October number. Every member of the Juvenile Department of the SNPJ was eligible to enter his or her letter during the contest which closed Dec. 31, 1935. The first prize-letter will be given an award of ten dollars and the remaining nine best submitted letters will be given the awards as announced previously. The rules of the contest were simple: WHY you wish to become an active member of the SNPJ when you attain the prescribed age, and, WHAT you expect from the SNPJ. You had a chance to tell this in not more than 100 words, either in English or Slovene. Only one letter from each contestant was considered; if anyone submitted two, one shall be disregarded. In case that anyone copied any other letter entered in this contest, his or her letter will not be considered even though, perhaps, printed. The contest was a grand success, judging from the many letters submitted and from their contents which showed that you are interested in the SNPJ and in its Juvenile Magazine. All letters were printed in the language in which they were written. In this number appears the last batch of letters. The three Supreme Board members, acting as judges, will now go to work to decide the awards. The prize-winners will be announced in the February number of the Mladinski List. Would that you were one of the lucky TEN! THE EDITOR CONTEST LETTERS Dear Editor:— I would like to become an active member of the SNPJ when reaching the prescribed age. We should be ready .to look forward to our future life and look for a larger benefit organization than we have, which carries the name of our nationality—SNPJ. I like the organization because it was founded on the Free- Thought basis. I expect from the organization, in case of an accident or sickness, sick' benefit. If the member dies, his closest relative gets the death benefit. I am a member of Lodge 168. Dorothy Brezovsek, P. 0. Box 74, Conemaugh, Pa. Dear Editor:— I wish to become an active member of the SNPJ, because it’s a good helper and a good teacher for all who obey the rules and regulations that are in the by-laws of the SNPJ. I am very proud of the SNPJ and will never be ashamed to say so; I have been its member ever since I was one year old, and wish to be as long as I live. I’ll try to work and help the SNPJ as much as I can when I grow older. Julia Slavec, Box 153, Louisville, Colo. * * Dear Editor:— I am a member of Lodge 215. I joined when I was one year old, that was 13 years ago, and will remain in the SNPJ always. I will tell others to join because the SNPJ is the best fraternal society, for our people. I like to attend meetings and shall always see to it that all violators of the by-laws get their due. When I grow older I am going to work for .the SNPJ at every opportunity. I will respect and comply with its principles. Mary Sertich, 706 Twelfth st. No., Virginia, Minn. * * Dear Editor:— At the prescribed age I will become an active and loyal member of this great organization, the SNPJ, because through this union I know I will benefit in many ways. This Society will fight for my labor rights, and educate me through its fine various social activities. Then, in case of an accident, sickness, or death, I will be relieved of financial worries and taken care of in every way possible by the SNPJ, the one and only great Fraternal Mother. (Lodge 22). William Briski, Box 342, Trimountain, Mich. * * Dear Editor:— “Why I wish to become an active member of the SNPJ and what I expect from it. — Juging from my observations, I understand that it is of a benefit to me to be a member of the SNPJ, because: 1. It teaches me the value of organization and the pleasure obtained through fellowship. 2. It develops in me a sense of responsibility through the insurance I carry. 3. Through it I realize the meaning of thrift and above all the value of good citizenship. There is but one more thing that is beneficial to me, and that is, the sick benefit which the organization offers in an honest and considerate manner. Dorothy Brezovic (Age 13), 496 First street, Conemauggh, Pa. Dear Editor:— I wish to become an active member of the SNPJ because it is the largest Slovene society in the world. I became a member in 1931 (I am 11 years old) and I am proud of it. My father told me all about the SNPJ. He told me all about the things they do if you should happen to get sick. It would give you a sick benefit. At first I joined the 711 in Detroit, Mich. But I came to Flint and I am in the Lodge 459 now. And I am proud of it too. Anna Dunjak, 1149 Campau ave., Flint, Mich. * * Dear Editor:— I think the SNPJ is the best Slovene fraternal organization in the United States. It teaches the workers how to organize to better their conditions. I only wish to be old enough to join the adult membership where I could work with fellow members for a better human society. I believe that all workers should be organized, and instead of praying they should demand their rights. I am ten years old and go to fifth grade. (Lodge 44.) Thomas F. Podboy, Box 61, Park Hill, Pa. * * Dear Editor:— I want to became an active member of the SNPJ, because it is one of the best benefit organizations. It takes care of all of its members. When my father was sick he received sick benefit from operation and disability fund. The SNPJ paid every cent according to the by-laws. I am sorry that the depression has caused my brothers and sisters to leave the SNPJ. Before the depression our whole family, consisting of ten members, belonged to the SNPJ, and now there are only five. I would like to have my brothers and sisters join the SNPJ soon again. I have been a junior member of the SNPJ for eleven years. (Lodge 112). Anna Sigurnik, Box 1135, Bearcreek, Montana. * * Dear Editor:— To join the SNPJ was one of my secret ambitions for a long time. I always admired the way my sister, who is a member of the lodge, was able to make friends. After returning from a lodge meeting or outing, she would tell me all about the fun she had there. I really envied her and wished I could be a member also. Now that I am, I intend to be a member always. Already I have acquir- ed new friends and enjoyed the meetings. Furthermore, in time of need I hope to enjoy the comforts of the lodge. (Was admitted Oct. 1, 1935, Lodge 650.) Anne Peterka, 320 Alba ave., Eveleth, Minnesota. * * Dear Editor:— In my estimation, there are several reasons which would atract me or anyone else to became an active member of the SNPJ. They may be listed as: 1. The sick benefits. 2. The disability benefits. 3. The death benefits. As a matter of fact, any money that you pay as assessment to the SNPJ will at one time or another be paid Ibaok to you through one or more of the above benefits. Through the SNPJ organization the (Slovene people are brought into the (public light. Marie Widmar, Box 463, Benld, 111. * * Dear Editor:— I want to become an adult member of SNPJ because it is the only Slovene organization that offers you more for your money than any other organization in the United States or elsewhere. In case of sickness I am always protected and the loved ones in case of death. We all had experience in the last five years what the SNPJ did for most of the members who could not pay their assessment. Robert Unetich, Box 211, Republic, Pa. * * Dear Editor:— Everybody tries to find a way of enjoying himself. Now, if you’ll listen closely, I will tell you one way: Be a very enthusiastic member of an SNPJ lodge (I wish we had a juvenile branch here), hold regular meetings, dances, picnics, programs, and—oh, there’s lots of things one can do! Also everybody knows we expect beneficial help from the SNPJ. I will try to show my gratification when I will receive such benefits by trying to be the member our SNPJ wants. Long live the SNPJ, the Mladinski List and .the Prosveta! Kathleen A. Stonich, R. R. 3, Box 135, Pueblo, Colo. * * Dear Editor:— Ever since I have been attending school, I have been given notice by my school-mates and even .teachers that I was “below” them until I contracted an “inferiority complex.” I could do nothing about this until I mustered enough courage to fight for my birthright— equality. As I grew older I came to realize .that most Slavs are discriminated. Members, we can gain and keep our equality by uniting and cooperating. Surely such an organization as the SNPJ is just this opportunity. And think of the benefits we all expect and get when unpreventable accidents and sickness occur! Josephine M. E. Stonich, R. R. 3, Box 136, Pueblo, Colo. * * Dear Editor:— The SNPJ is the most fraternal organic structure in this country and when I reach the prescribed age to become an adult member, I will cooperatte with my fellow members to imake the :SNPJ a bigger and more outstanding organization than it is today. I intend to make myself a worthy descendant of the originators of this great institution—the Slovene National Benefit Society. In return I expect to participate in the entertainments and receive the help of the