It Takes A Lot Of

Occasionally There Is A Moment In A Person's Life When He Takes A Great Stride Forward In Wisdom, Humility, Or Disillusionment. For A Split Second He Comes Into A Kind Of Cosmic Understanding. For A Trembling Breath Of Time He Knows All There Is To Know. He Is Loaned The Gift The Poet Yearned For - Seeing Himself As Others See Him.

And You Must Tell The Child The Legends I Told You - As My Mother Told Them To Me And Her Mother To Her. You Must Tell The Fairy Tales Of The Old Country. You Must Tell Of Those Not Of The Earth Who Live Forever In The Hearts Of The People.

Books Became Her Friends, And There Was One For Every Mood.

There Is Here, What Is Not In The Old Country. In Spite Of Hard, Unfamiliar Things, There Is Here - Hope. In The Old Country, A Man Can Be No More Than His Father, Providing He Works Hard. If His Father Was A Carpenter, He May Be A Carpenter. He Many Not Be A Teacher Or A Priest. He May Rise - But Only To His Father's State. In The Old Country, A Man Is Given To The Past. Here He Belongs To The Future. In This Land, He May Be What He Will, If He Has The Good Heart And The Way Of Working Honestly At The Right Things.

Those Were The Rommely Women: Mary, The Mother, Evy, Sissy, And Katie, Her Daughters, And Francie, Who Would Grow Up To Be A Rommely Woman Even Though Her Name Was Nolan. They Were All Slender, Frail Creatures With Wondering Eyes And Soft Fluttery Voices. But They Were Made Out Of Thin Invisible Steel.