VaSabond Editorials

By Jack Dionne

Happy New Year ! May all our friends have greater prosperity in 1931 than they did in 1930. A lot of New Year wishes never come true, but there's one that ought to be a cinch to work out.

***

Got a great kick out of the checlc the lumberman gave his wife for Christmas. She went around to her neighbors proudly showing a check for $1,000. Much excitement resulted. But hen closest friend said to her: "I had no idea your husband was so prosperous." "Well," said the check owner, "just between you and nae, he told me to show it around freely, but if I ever tried to cash it he'd kick Hell out of me."

It used to be our custom to use this column in this January first issue to review lumber conditions for the past ]r€ar. What a swell job that turned out to be this year. ***

The memories of the lumber history of 1930 are bad enough, without rubbing it in by reviewing them. Let those who will, look backward. But the wise ones will look ahead. It can't be worse. It's bound to be much better. The old toast says: "My past is dark; my present is doubtful; but my future is bright; so we'll talk about my future."

***

Good-bye, 1930 ! If there's anyone in the lumber business that regrets your passing we'd sure like to know his name. We ushered you in just a year ago today with high hopes. We believed in you. We trusted you. As the arch-sinner said to Bob Ingersoll: "We depended on you." And what did you do for us, 1930? We ask You.

**rF

And we reply like the deformed and hair-lipped man to the question the Preacher asked: "What has the Lord done for you?"-who said: "He's ruined me; if you don't believe it, look at me.'l You just about ruined us, 1930, that's what you've done.

And we can't even say as did the hero, that our head is "bloody but unbowed." It wouldn't be so, and the falsehood would be written so plain that he who runs might read. Our head IS bloody. And our back is bent. And our shoulders are stooped. And our knees are sagging. You found us not only hopeful and trustful, but stout and vigorous. That's how you found us, 1930. Andthis is how you leave us.

*:3*

We say of you, 1930, as thle little child said of the dish of greens. Her mother said: "That's brocoli, and I say eat it." And the precocious one r,eplied: "I say it's spinach, and I say to Hell with it." That's what we say of you, 1930.

>k**

This lumber industry feels like the man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves. 'We are that good man, and 1930 is the den of thieves we fell among. And our one hope now is that 1931 will be that Good Samaritan who will bind up our wounds, save, salvage, and satisfy us. +t*

We remember well the day you came, 1930. How we admined and praised you, how opportunity seemed to srnile upon you, how trustingly we spoke of your. great future. And what a bum you turned out to be ! Talk about wasted opportunity ! 1930, you're the champion failure of all time.

So ort your way, 1930. Charitable though we may be; tolerant though we attempt to feel; and wanting to see the best in everything as best we can, the only good thing we can think of to say about you is that you're gone. Thank God for that !

So, on your way, 1930 ! You turned out to be a low-down, disgraceful, heartless, heart-breaking, deceitful hussy. You may have been twelve months to some folks, but you seemed like twelve centuries to us. On your way ! And, if you never come back, it will be ten million years too soon to suit most of us.