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you rem ember our trip last win ter when highways were cover ed w ith ice, w ith a layer of fresh snow over it? You were gliding, sliding and grum bling and both of us nearly died of fear. Al though I used brakes you could not stop and were gliding. And before us were other cars in the ditch. It was awful . . . — In my country we like win ter. Do you know w hat we use for communications ? Helicopt ers ! Carry jumped w ith surprise. — W ait a little, these are not flying helicopters. Remember, they have two boards th a t move over the snow like skis. On our roads in Ukraine, horses draw such helicopters. On the boards a large wooden box is mounted, filled with hay. You plunge into it, cover yourself w ith a fur, tuck up w ith a plaid and dive your hands in your sleeves or pockets. Sleighs run, a bell rings on the horse’s neck and the w hite world around you is as a fairy tale. — Children have such sleighs too but w ithout a horse. A cou ple of small planks, mounted to gether. It flies downhill like a ball. W hat joy! They slide sw ift ly over the ground, the wind blows and children’s faces bloom like roses. — 0, our w inter is wonderful, Carry. And specially when you enter a warm house afterw ards and m other presents you w ith a plate of potatoes, which smell so good and are tasty. O, it is true, you don’t understand it; it is not in your style. But be lieve me, it smells b etter than gasoline. I am smiling but Carry seems to be h u rt and is heading to wards the ditch. I try to soothe him and keep him in the middle of the road. And I continue my recollections. C arry becomes quiet and runs smoothly on the sleek highway. — One w inter I was in the m ountains. It was in the Boyko region, you know. Carry jum ped slightly on some holes, but he got the idea. — I came to visit my fath er on Christm as, and fath er was glad th a t his children were there. But on the Eve, a villager came to ask me to see his sick wife, far away in the m ountains. — You can imagine how hard it was for me to go. But I went w ith a small horse harnessed to a wooden carriage. You never saw a horse and would be sur prised to see one ? This, Carry is a living motor and instead of gasoline he eats grass and grain and drinks w ater like you. You cannot push him by button but by calling him “vio!” — Our road led us first through the village and it was stony and full of hollows. Soon it turned between the m ountains and became a creek. The wheels struggled over stones, ran into the water. The carriage shook and swung and I clung to its sides, fearing to fall upon the stones or into the v/ater. Final ly the creek ended and we drove out onto a high plain. There stood a lonely hut, barely visible, under high fir trees. — In the house were children, crawling on the floor and on the bed, where lay the m other, who a few hours before gave birth to one of them . She was white as linen and bleeding. — You don’t understand it; and I shall not tell you how I operated on her in the m ost in credible circumstances. But her life was saved. I was not paid for it because they could not, and I knew it when I started the trip. The woman gave me a bun dle with eight eggs, because it would not be good to retu rn with “empty hands.” — We jumped and glided again on the stones and gravel, but it was easier going down hill. Late in the night we were back and my fath er became quiet. While I was gone, being agitated, he walked from the window to an other. — No, Carry, you couldn’t even dream of such roads. You like smooth surface and speed and risk. I don’t w ant to admo nish you because you are rela tively a good boy. But your folks yearly annihilate thousands of hum an lives and any inventions or improvements are useless to help. You say it is not your fault? I know — hum an beings gave you life and they are re sponsible. Carry is running lively and grum bling in a friendly way. He has no bad intentions towards m e! He is my friend. We keep on driving, the way is smooth and empty. — Here we are allowed fifty. Let me keep this speed, Carry. L ater on we’ll have sixty, then you can spin the wheels. Oh! here comes th a t narrow spot, where lights are dazzling my eyes and your headlights. But for tw enty m inutes only. And then we are at the entrance of our home. Parking I’ll tell you: — Thank you, Carry, for nice driving and bringing me safely home. Have a nice dream, Carry my friend. Let your wheels and your m otor rest, in expectance of our new trips. — Because your fate is not to sleep but to run on known and unknown highways. In the open spaces of the New World, where you were born. Translated by Jean Wolcott P i per TALK ON EASTER EGGS UNWLA Branch 61 in Whip- pany, N. J., gave initiative to a talk on Ukrainian E aster Eggs at the regular m eeting of the Evening Membership D epart m ent of the Women’s Club of M orristown, its members and guests. A display of Ukrainian arts and crafts was set up by Mrs. M ary Suchorsky, vice-president of the Branch and Mrs. Osed- chuk. Mrs. Izydora Lewkowych of Brooklyn, N. Y. was the guest dem onstrator. The program was sponsored by the American Home D epartm ent. Members of the Junior W oman’s Club of M orristown were also guests. The local paper, The M orris town Record gave a detailed re port of this interesting evening. 30 НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ — КВІТЕНЬ, 1963 Wisdom is sometimes nearer when we stoop then when we soar. Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
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