Granada Pioneer, Vol. II, No. 17

              Page 8 __________________PIONEER Christmas EDITION______________December  24,   1943
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                SKETCHES
   Alton 0. Mead, procure-
ment officer, received the
worst scare of his life when
a little shaver on his dad's
ranch in Nebraska.
   The story goes that he
was stretched atop a hill,
scanning the valley below
through a pair of powerful
binoculars.   Suddenly,  Mead
let loose a hoarse howl-for
looking straight into his
eyes was a huge rattler
ready to strike! After a
few seconds concentration,
he grinned sheepishly to
himself,realizing that the
rattler was miles away.
   Expediences similar to
this were numerous to Mead,
who was born to parents
homesteading, in Kimball
county, Neb. It was there
he received his early edu-
cation, eventually he at-
tended a business college,
and later graduated the In-
ternational Accountants
Society of  Chicago.
   The following 27 years
found him engaged in the
banking and accounting pro-
fessions. He was a bank
clerk for a few years, but
his talents enabled him to
rise rapidly in the account-
ing field. 
   He entered government
service in 1934 as a field
auditor for the Federal E-
mergency Relief association,
and a year later joined the
US Treasury department.
   Mead has two lovely
daughters and two grand-
children and will talk for
hours about them. His pet
mania is a juicy "four-inch
steak," But, "who can get
it these days?"he laments.
   A childhood incident that
he recalls with a shudder
is one that found him emu-
lating the great toreadors
of Spain.  He recalls teas-
ing a cow that had past
given birth,and the enraged
animal chased the slow-mov-
ing Mead across a pasture,
bent on butting  him to
death. Mead barely managed
to get over the fence.  “It 
was that close,” he says.
   Conversing on the sub-
ject of people, Mead will
invariably say,”Tain’t the
ignorance of the public that
cause the trouble, its their
knowing so darned much that
ain’t so.”
	--Sueo Sako	
CHRISTMASES  AGO
Eight years ago, yes,  eight long years ago
He had been right there
He had been the one to sooth her
He has been the one than cared
Yes, eight long years ago.

It was on Christmas of "Thirty-Five”
Tears of sad farewell
Tears from the bottom of her heart
Tears that reflected all the past
Eight Christmases ago.

‘Tis so vivid,  though years and years ago
How her brother had to leave
How he had gone across the sea
How they vowed they'd ne’er  forget
That eight Christmases ago.
By "Pugsy"
    	     Cleveland Hostel

JIM’S  NISEI  DOUGHBOY
   DEAR PRIVATE  JOE  NISEI:
Christmas  is wonderful, isn't it Joe?  With every-
one hustling and bustling around trying to buy suitable
gifts to send to fellows like you and your buddies.
And the last minute shoppers swamping the harried clerks.
   The fluffy snow slowly swirling down on the frozen
ground, the shrill cries of gay children gleefully
romping  in the snow, it all fills your soul with the
spirit of Christmas joy.  Yes,  Joe, it's just like
back home, except for changes very hard to forget.
   Remember Joe, when you burned your finger popping
popcorn to hang on the tree.
   Remember the fun we had, staying up till two in the
morning, helping decorate the tree and setting the
presents out for the kids.
   Remember all the shotgun shells we used up trying
a get a duck for Christmas instead of buying a turkey!
It didn't pay, did it Joe?
   Remember when we sold magazine subscriptions to raise
enough money to buy gifts for those hungry-looking
kids living in the shabby brick house. I caught cold
then and had to spend my Christmas in bed. It would
have been an unpleasant day for me if it weren't for
you.
   Remember? You stayed by my bedside. We told sto-
ries, and played games. You kept me cheery instead of
joining the other kids and having fun.
   I say "remember'" and yet I feel a little ashamed of
myself because I had forgotten all those things. I was
too busy feeling sorry for myself. Yes, Joe, Christ-
mas is wonderful and I am grateful because it brings
back memories  that will remain in my thoughts.     Yes,
even tho we are engulfed in this world of hate, chaos
and conflict, I shall cherish all the remembrances that
will bring you back to me.
   I'd like to write some more about other happy mo-
ments we had together but it'll just make it harder tor
me to sign off. So wherever you are, Joe; training at
Camp Shelby, guarding the rugged Attu shoreline, or
waiting for the zero hour in Italy,I wish you and your
buddies--a very MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Sincerely yours,
       Jim Otsuka