From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
The rough cedar of these new Lincoln Logs leaves splinters in my palms, a tactile reminder of the grit we'll need if this political quarreling brings the war to our shores. I worry the "Blighty" boys are right and Wilson's promises are thin as this worn wool waistcoat, especially as I watch the pump attendant scrawl **$0.15** on the board for a single gallon of gas. With the Progressive Party crumbling and Hughes stepping into the fray, I can feel the tension tightening like the spring in a new electric clock. I just keep my head down and my hands busy, praying those new submachine guns I hear tell of stay a world away from our quiet streets.