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By Root 1902 0

children. They had all been at one another’s weddings. They’d shared in all the sadness and happiness of one another’s lives. It would never occur to them to be lonely. They would never know what it was like to be without friends. They would never have to wander from town to town, looking for a place to be; they had always had a place to come home to, a place where they belonged and where they were welcome. None of these men would ever be rich but they would never be cold or go hungry or be without a friend. They knew if one died the others would quietly step in and their children would be raised and their wives would be cared for; it was unspoken. They had a bond. Small-town people usually take these things for granted. As a certain young man named Bobby Smith was to find out for himself that year.

On January 3 Dwight D. Eisenhower was sworn in as the president of the United States and Tot Whooten was not happy about it. She said, “Just my luck. The first time I take the trouble to vote and my man loses.” On January 21, Neighbor Dorothy and Mother Smith traveled all the way up to Kansas City to welcome Harry and Bess Truman back home to Missouri. They stood in the crowd at the station along with ten thousand other people and waited for the train. It was an hour late but they were there as Harry and Bess arrived and the American Legion Band played the “Missouri Waltz.” It was hard to realize that Harry would no longer be in the White House but, as they say, time marches on. Yet, even though other things in the world may have changed, The Neighbor Dorothy Show remained the same. She still had her same loyal audience, who would no more think of missing her show than not having their first cup of coffee in the morning.

February 19 was a cold, wet, windy day in Elmwood Springs. Dorothy had just finished her last Golden Flake Flour commercial and was rather circumspect and subdued. As the show was ending she said, “You know, so many of you have written in over the years and asked me what is the best thing to do for a blue mood . . . and asked if I have ever been in a blue mood, and yes, you can be sure I have. I can only tell what helps me and that is baking. I can’t tell you how many cakes I have baked over the years, how many cups of flour I have sifted, how many cake pans I have greased, all because there is something about baking a cake that gets me out of a mood, and so I’ll just pass that on for what it’s worth. Speaking of that, you all know I’ve been a little blue lately, missing my children, but I feel so much better today and I’d like to share a letter with you we got from Bobby yesterday . . .

“Dear Mother,

“Since you gave out my address over the radio, you would not believe how many cards and letters and other good stuff has come my way. Please thank them all for me and the rest of the guys. A lot of these guys don’t get mail and they are getting a big kick out of reading mine and helping me eat all the cookies, fudge, and cakes that have made it all the way to Korea. Most of the guys in my company are from big cities. I guess it took sending me all the way over here to really appreciate my hometown. So love to Dad and slam the screen door for me will you, so your listeners won’t be too lonesome for me.

“Love, your son,

“Pfc. Bobby Smith

“And I also want to thank you. You all have been so sweet to write and send him things. You know I don’t like to get sentimental but I will say this: We all know he was a handful and I think of all the times I yelled at him to sit still, to stop running, not to slam the door, but today I’d give a million dollars if I could hear him slam that door or see a cake where he had run a finger around the bottom. Oh, if we could only stop time, and speaking of time . . . I can see by the old clock on the wall that it’s time to go. I can’t wait until tomorrow, when we can visit with each other again . . . you mean so much to us . . . each and every one of you. This is Neighbor Dorothy with Mother Smith on the organ . . . saying . . . have a nice day.”

To Dorothy’s great disappointment,