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May its laughter and its friendships and
good cheer be yours in abundance in this
Joyous Season.
yfjem Qljfisimas
EBEN BROTHERS
SAW FILING AND CARPENTRY
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Carrighar Article
Awakes Nostalgia
In Former Nomeite
The Rev. Bob Treat, minister
at the Methodist Church here
several years ago, has read Sally
Carrighar’s most recent article
in the Saturday Evening Post and
the Nugget presents herewith his
comment on the story and his
Christmas greetings to his many
Nome friends:
The Leland-Northport
Methodist Parish
Robert S. Treat, Minister
Northport, Michigan
To The Nome Nugget, and
to Those at Home in Nome:
Blessed are they who live in
Nome, for they shall be Carri
ghared!
Especially, I liked the line about
the six-inch ^galvanized stovepipe
drains. Now, why didn’t I think of
that when I was up there—com
plete with stopper, yet. The auxil
iary oil tank inside smelled a bit
of oil, but still shows resourceful
ness; now, why couldn’t she, or
better, why didn’t I think of hook
ing into that underground stream
beneath 14 inches of frozen earth
and a piddling amount of glacier
ice? Shucks, makes a fellow want
to come back and have another go
at it.
We do miss those chiming board
walks. I had forgotten about the
those chiming sidewalks—“singing
walks,” I guess Sally might have
said. Good stuff. Maybe that was
why that poor chap lay down on
one of the walks one night and
didn’t get up. Thought he was
hearing the chimes of heaven.
Maybe he was, at that.
The Good Book forbids our be
ing envious, but even at this dis
tance, my hands fairly itched to
get a grip on the super extra jack
- Gus is using to ease that house up
from its kneeling position. If I had
only known that he had one like
that. Come to think about it, while
it does make a dandy picture, Gus
likely wishes he had been using
the old one that day—everyone in
town will be wanting that super
special by now.
Tough how the oil barrels col
lapse from the vacuum created
when one burns his oil out with
out properly clearing the vent.
Just another of the specialties of
Nome. They ought to make the oil
barrels of plastic, or at least have
one end of rubber. Of course, that
old big black tank beside what
used to be the parsonage didn’t
collapse. It just quit. Not too often
—but it did add to the mysterious.
Went along with the 24 hours of
moonlight and the curious goings
on in nearby cabins that one
learned not to talk about—it was
Nome after all. Wonderful, friend
ly Nome.
Well, I can hardly wait for the
next serial. But until it comes,
I’ll know again why it is that I
keep trying to stuff the cracks,
ana wondering if, after all, enough
preparations have been made for
the “quiet evenings in the winter
with the books.” The local par
sonage trustees can’t quite under
stand my concern, but now I can.
Regards,
Bob Treat
P.S.—A copy to the Post!
WHITE ELEPHANT SALE
Does your club, social group or
charitable organization need mon
ey after Christmas?
In many communities, disap
pointed gift-recipients have spon
sored ‘White Elephant bazaars,”
at which all their unwanted Yule
tide presents are brought together
and sold at bargain prices. The
receipts, of course, go to charity.
Instead of letting that unwanted
tie, those unread books and use
less gadgets gather dust in your
closets, get your group to auction
them off. It serves a double pur
pose: you won’t ever have to look
at them again, and good causes
are furthered.