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Arkansas City, Kansas

Red Cross Scrapbook 1941: page 7 - January


Red Cross Scrapbook 1941: page 7 - January


Arkansas City (Kansas) Traveler


Arkansas City Public Library, Arkansas City, Kansas


Arkansas City Public Library, Arkansas City, Kansas




Red Cross volunteers


In Copyright In Copyright

Used with permission of copyright holder. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.





“Red Cross Scrapbook 1941: page 7 - January,” Digital Arkansas City, accessed February 4, 2023,

R. N.
By Harry Oldroyd
No, those initials do not stand for Royal Navy, though there’s much talk that Britain’s Royal Navy is the only thing that stands between us and destruction.
But my R. N. is far more important to civilization and to America than mere tonnage of floating steel. My R. N. stands for REGISTERED NURSE and therefore stands for efficiency, understanding, kindliness, steadfastness and a host of other fine human qualities.
It takes a lot of spirit and plenty of good, old-fashioned grit for a girl to go through that first tough year of training. The discipline is severe, the hours are killing, the work is unbelievably hard and monotonous. And those flighty souls who took up nursing for the thrill are quickly weeded out by the exactions of the job.
But those fine young women who stick it out, who study and work through the remaining years of the course and who finally take the solemn and beautiful vows of their profession, are the kind of girls you can depend on. They have to be!
And when the doctor leaves one of them in charge of a case, he knows that, through her understanding and skill, his battle is already more than half won.
Notes from the desk of Mrs.
Luther Parman, Cowley county
chairman of Crippled Children’s
activities. 1-10-41
There were glances which indicated a certain anticipation as these young folks crossed our It was nice of them come here for a meeting, but there were queries going through my mind. After all, they must have some special thought in mind. I was sure it would be something connected with crippled children’s work. Then I began to realize . . . these were familiar faces.
A bit later, the young woman left her seat in the circle, and as if by magic, her arms had become laden with packages. She paused close by, her words were tender, and then one by one she laid the packages in my lap . . . “Use them in any way you think best,” she said.
Eight packages, lovely scrap books well bound, animal, believe it or not, children, movie personalities, and others, all so different.
She paused and clasped the last and most important package to her breast in a caress. One could have heard a pin drop in the room. I looked about, her words, their looks, I knew this was something that each one had a vital part in. Again, her words and the written message were almost too much for the writer.
. . . “But this one is for you.” Each one had autographed this lovely work, the Scout Troop No. V. How fortunate that they should have this splendid leader, Mrs. Roy Chaplin, and her assistant, Mrs. Rogers.
It was a compilation of published articles about handicapped folks who had made good in some particular field of endeavor. Then there was a poetry section intended for special use in the Chandler club ritual. What a prized possession this would be.
Before long we were all down on the floor looking over some books and notes. How interesting, it was to listen to their questions.
Suddenly one miss announced: “It must be ten, I’ll have to go.”
We all bounded off the floor, and, hurrying to the kitchen, I found I had a dozen helpers. What fun it was to concoct some filling sweets. They were right at home this time, and they took time out to wonder about the rooms and find the things that once before had interested them.
The evening was gone all too quickly . . . but what a trail of sweet memories was left behind.

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