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“A man who leaves home to mend himself and others is a
philosopher; but he who goes from country to country guided by the blind
impulse of curiosity, is only a vagabond.”
—GOLDSMITH. |
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The weather man had been
goading us with threats of sub-zero temperature for days. For one reason or
another, understandable only to weather men, the extreme cold wave had been
deflected, but Chicago was nevertheless an exceptionally cold city on the
night of our departure for the Far East and the Antipodes. How to give
expression in our wardrobes of our expectation of continued cold weather on
the eastern side of the Rocky Mountains and of softened temperatures on the
western slope was our problem. We solved it without encumbering ourselves
with too many clothes, excluding the extra heavy and the extra light and
getting along the best we could on what was left.
I had some business matters to
attend to at Rotary headquarters and therefore came to the city from our
suburban home a few hours in advance of Jean, who Was to meet me at the
Chicago and Northwestern station a few minutes before the time scheduled for
departure; namely 9:30 p.m., January 22nd, in the
(7)
8 PEREGRINATIONS.
year of Our Lord 1935. About an hour before train time, I was about to say
good-bye and to leave, in order to make sure that all was in order at the
station, when Ches Perry announced his intention of going to see us off. I
said that it would be entirely unnecessary but that I would wait for him in
the event that he was determined to go. He said, “Oh, no. I shall re main
here to the last minute.” So I went ahead alone and sure enough, as the
train was about to pull out, Ches appeared beaming almost to the point of
being radiant with jollity and good cheer. Possibly it was the sight of my
lassie, of whom I am convinced he is fond. He must be fond of her, very; in
fact he permitted her to beat him continuously at ping pong when we were
crossing the Atlantic on the Majestic a year ago. “Greater love than this
hath no man.” As the train pulled out I had visions of his speedy return to
his absorption in the pressing business of Rotary; now pouring oil on
troubled waters, now throwing a ray of light on a perplexing problem and
always painstaking and patient.
Jean and I did encounter the tail of the blizzard as it was switched over
Iowa, Nebraska and Utah, but the cold had so moderated by the time we
reached Nevada that we were able to sit on the platform of the observation
car.
The first night out we were very tired and turned in early. We had been
working at high pressure during the preceding weeks and were glad of the
opportunity to rest.
WE BEGIN A LONG JOURNEY. 9
Some time during the night we were somewhat shaken up due to the careless
handling of the locomotive. Jean’s first words, spoken while half awake,
after the impact of iron against iron were: “Did you do that, Paul?” Pride
in the fact that my wife had given my horsepower such high rating restrained
me from saying “That’s right, blame everything on the man.” Under the
circumstances I merely said, “No, I wouldn’t think of cuffing this little
train about in that way; it’s doing the best it can.” There is no diplomacy
comparable with that developed in the domestic relationship of a
well-regulated family.
In Council Bluffs we were met by an unexpected delegation of Rotarians led
by Jake Perkins, the man chiefly responsible for the drafting of Rotary’s
Code of Ethics, and in Omaha by another delegation of Rotarians and ladies,
headed by International Director Hugh Butler. This was repeated in all
cities along the route where there were Rotary clubs. It was delightful to
meet such friendly, congenial men and women, but we feared that they must
have been discommoded. The saddest case was that of a group of Cheyenne
friends; they came at an hour of the night when we were sleeping. We were
entirely unconscious of their having been present until the following day,
when the receipt of a beautiful bouquet of flowers marked “From Cheyenne
Rotarians” revealed the un fortunate circumstance. The best that we could do
was to wire them our regrets and our gratitude.
The fertile farm lands of Nebraska gave way in the panorama to the
mountainous regions of Wyoming
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