THE HELPING HAND

Rotorua Morning Post, Volume 2, Issue 388, 24 November 1932, Page 2

THE HELPING HAND

WHAT! MANY A WQMAN CAN DO DURING DEPRESSION. THOUGHT FOR OTHERS. The following letter hy an unknown woman to an exchange emfiodies a question which must appeal to every woman as a pressing problem for all of her sex. I am 47 years old. I have spent 20 of those years, it seems to me now, looking for ways to waste time — stretching several hours of housework over a day, window sh'opping for an extra pair of white gloves, ; playing second-rate hridge, getting a novel at the library every day or two that told ahout people as romantic as I once thought I'd he. Jim and I have always considered that we spent a pretty successful and happy life together. But this is 1932, and I am suddenly facing the fact that time is all I have left, and simply don't know how to use it. Perhaps you can help me. Of course, we ourselves haven't heen hit so badly. My husband has had several salary cuts, and that's hlocked our younger son's way to ths Uniyersity. But, after all, his father didn't go to the University, and he got along pretty well. There are people, though, in this town, right on my own street, who aren't so lucky. The little girl) next door, for instance. She's heen married for three years and has two habies. Four months ago her husband lost his job. i New Usefulness. Several houses farther down there are old Mr. and Mrs. Thrasher, who haven't any children at all, and who lost every cent when the hank failed this spring.

Just across the street there are the Formans. He has heen out of work for weeks, but recently she managed to get back her job as stenographer. Still, it's hardly a satisfaetory arrangement with three small children to look after. _ The strange thing is that several years ago I wouldn't have known these neighbours of miiie. Now ,stiddenly I'm necessary to them and I feel important for the first time since my children were young. Two or three times a week I go next door and give that child a hand in the housework, and watch the hahies so she can have a little time to herself. I haven't a maid any more; but I always did like to eook, and it's no more trouble to make a few extra biscuits and take them down the street to the Thrashers. Grandmother's Day. Jim has fixed up a swing and a sahdbox in the back yard, and the children can play there all afternoon as well 'as not. That's the kind of thing all our grandmothers did, ahd if we've learned to he neighbours again, perhaps this depression will have taught us something. Something — but is it enough? You see, I don't go in much for club work. I'm no gpod at organising committees and that kind of thing, and, frankly, I don't care much about it. I can't say that I really understand what caused the depression or what's going to end it. But I can take the neighbourhood children for a ride or sew rompers for the babies next door. It's just the begining, of course, hut is the beginning to be the end? Or is there something else that I can do ? There must be thousands of women like me without much money, but with plenty of time. I am writing to-you because our problams are your prohlems, aren't they? HaVe you an answer to give me?