Great response - CAPPER'S readers came through for me when I asked for homemade soap recipes in Reader to Reader. I received hundreds. Now I'll make soap, thanks to all your readers.
Jewell Hudson Heilman
Editor's note: Thanks for writing, Jewell. Your letter shows that Reader to Reader requests can prompt a flood of help. Sometimes we receive letters from people whose requests have been answered, but who are unable to write to everyone who has sent replies. Unfortunately, we don't have space to print their notes of thanks.
If you respond to a request, but never hear from the request's author, please understand that readers can be overwhelmed by all the responses they receive, and that circumstances can arise that prevent their writing.
We're happy that Reader to Reader is so popular. Thank you all for making it such a wonderful resource.
Correction: In the May Open Session section, an incorrect phone number was given on page 8 for Lee Booksellers, publisher of the book Sod Walls. The correct number is 1 (888) 665-0999. We apologize for the error.
Salty peaches - CAPPER'S Weekly was a great paper when I was growing up in my native Kansas. I wanted to share this story from then with other readers.
Around harvest time in 1930, our mother was busy helping our father bring in the crops. My sister was helping with the housework, and she moved a few things from their usual spots. Mom came in tired and weary from a long day, but she still had canning to do after supper.
That's where the plot thickens. My mother reached for sugar and poured it in to can the peaches. Only, what she had picked up wasn't sugar - it was salt.
Soon on the scene was the CAPPER'S salesman, Shorty. When Mother told him she didn't have money for the paper at the time, he asked her for some of her jarred fruit, and she gave it to him.
The next trip into town, Mother sold cream and eggs. She went to Shorty's home with money in her purse. He claimed he had eaten some of the fruit, but Mother said, 'No, I'm sure you didn't, but I can pay for my subscription today.'
Mrs. S.R. Burlingame
Band keeps swinging along - I was inspired to write to you after reading about the group in Miami who enjoy dancing ('Miami Heat senior dancers shimmy through their golden years,' January). I'm a member of the Hanky Panky Band, which plays several times a week at senior centers, retirement homes, assisted living facilities and private parties.
Our name was given to us by nursing home patients in the 1960s. Many of our original members are no longer with us, and of the current group, all but two of us are in our mid- and upper 80s.
We mainly play favorites from the 1940s. People love to dance to the music, but if they aren't able to, they tap their feet and hands as they sit in their wheelchairs.