I shall try to describe just one item—a heavy, closely and beautifully woven wool rug that hung on one of the big walls. It had to be about 20x14 or 16 feet, and perhaps two inches thick. It was a reproduction of the Seal of West Point—eagle, arrows, colors and all. The names of the father and three boys were woven in the rug. It was made by Ecuador Indians who had only a post card to guide them, together with dimensions supplied by the father. Those Indians could not read and were otherwise as primitive as could be. But they knew how to weave and they knew their colors and keen eyes gave them the proportions.
Let me give you a part of the fellow's pedigree, verified by a banker of good repute—if the latter is possible. He, his two brothers and his father are all graduates of West Point. His father was ambassador to the United States from Ecuador. And his paternal grandfather was a former president of the Republic of Ecuador.
THE HAZARDS OF FLIGHT
Yesterday (Jan. 21) we flew from Panama City. It took all day. The going was bad enough all along, but over high ridges and mountains or deep valleys it overdid things way too far. Somebody said wind currents caused it.
Then too, I saw what I thought were three loose screws sticking up on the wing on my side. I watched them closely, what time I wasn't getting things back level or watching that infernal electric sign up ahead that advised, "Tighten seat belt." It was the only honest thing about the ship—it never overstated.
The loose screws worried me considerably, so I went over and looked at the other wing, but they had them over there too. All looked of the same size, spaced alike, and equally rusted, so I didn't move over. One side was as good as the other.
GUM FOR THE EARS
Going up and coming down they gave us gum to chew. In a place such as I was, I always obeyed the stewardess or anybody in a blue suit and white cap. Chewing gum would, along with yawning, keep our ears from stopping up—maybe. Something went wrong. All of a sudden it came to me that everything had become absolutely quiet, like walking around in new snow. I listened for the roar of the motors. They had stopped. We were in a pickle. I turned to Aura May and said something, but I couldn't hear what I said.
It took a lot of gum chewing, yawning and calisthenics at the next stop to get partially unstopped. And my jaws are tired and sore. I'm not a regular gum-chewer.
We got off the ground early in the morning, circled over Panama City and the ocean, then back over land and a densely forested area. The tree tops looked like closely packed mushroom buttons, only the colors were varying shades of green. I couldn't see a field, road or house, and only rarely a stream.