Perspectives

Dear Heloise: I recycle jars from baby food-size to spaghetti sauce-size to bring my lunch to work in. I can pack pasta salads, tossed salads, dressings, soup and a lot of other goodies to be eaten cold or microwaved for lunch. It saves money, time and tastes even better on a second day. -- Joyce in Arkansas

The young man from Meridian stood in the doorway of the English professor’s office and eagerly awaited the assessment of his treasures by the esteemed master. His “treasures” were a bundle of folk songs written on scratch pads, backs of envelopes and pieces of cardboard. He had come to Austin with his collection of cowboy tunes tied with a cotton string in the bottom of his trunk. Since the age of 9, he had been writing the songs down. His father’s farm, bordering the Bosque River and a branch of the Chisholm Trail, was a popular crossing for the longhorns being driven to northern markets. In fact, trail herds would often spend several days in the area to rest and drink from the sparkling river. The boy would listen to the songs sung by the cowboys and would immediately write them on whatever was handy.

The eccentric Texas oilman sat in a dark theater on Oct. 4, 1926 watching overpaid stagehands try to make “The Ladder,” a play about reincarnation, presentable for Broadway audiences.