But the kids had to find everything fast, really fast or Betty Lou would go on without them.” – The Girls from Ames: A Story of Women and a Forty-Year Friendship by Jeffrey Zaslow (Gotham, 2010)įrame still from The Magic Window, 1956 Betty Lou Varnum was a TV personality at WOI-TV in central Iowa. These were always kid-safe items that could be found around the house. In every episode, Betty Lou would introduce a craft-making segment by announcing the materials needed. Intro title of The Magic Window, 1954 “The Magic Window, which for forty years was hosted by a woman named Betty Lou Varnum. This is our third post commemorating the 50 th anniversary of the signing of the Public Broadcasting Act of 1967, and this week we are highlighting the longest-running, locally produced children’s educational television program ever made in America: The Magic Window. The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.National Educational Television presents The Magic Window program, 1956 Special Collections and University Archives (SCUA) have joined the American Archive of Public Broadcasting’s month-long celebration of the Public Broadcasting Act’s 50th Anniversary! We’re posting content throughout the month to celebrate the history and preservation of public broadcasting. Her large family is planning a huge bash to celebrate the milestone. She puts me to shame: on a recent birthday she got a new chain saw - she lives far off the main road in the woods - and when storms fell trees she cuts them up and drives her tractor to clear the way. Betty Lou lives in Pittsburg, Texas and on March 14 will be 90. We went our separate ways and amazingly, have kept in touch. Remember the Johnston Hardware on Water and Main streets in Poland, which back then was a beautiful and typical small village in the ’30s?īetty Lou and I walked to school together, played together (I envied her because she had a pony and high-top boots) and suffered through adolescence together. It was my long-ago friend from childhood, Betty Lou Johnston Smith. “I hope as I age I can look at life as if I’ve never lived it, and I can find a zest for something just when I think it’s over and to live life to its fullest.”Īn unfamiliar voice on the telephone asked, “Are you dead? I didn’t get a Christmas card from you and neither did my cousin and I told her I would check to see if you were still alive.” I don’t think as we age, it is one of the easiest things to do, but it is certainly one of the most important ones. I’ve watched people who find a new interest, or embrace a lifelong interest, that seems to make them have a reason for living. “As we age it seems too common that the ‘been there, done that’ syndrome becomes all too familiar. I’m referring to an interest that resembles a passion. Speaking of the years flying by, a friend, Marcia Melvin, - who in her profession has tamed my unruly hair - shared with me her thoughts on aging: “I am solely convinced there is only one way to find the key to happiness while aging. (Have you noticed in all the political wrangling the combatants - excuse me, candidates - declare they are “in it for the long haul.” Do they have any idea how that admonishment came about and that it is as old as the old West and cattle drives? Memory searches and finds an old but tried-and-true admonishment: “Never quit in the middle of the long haul.” As the years fly by we remember we’re all in the long haul whether we want to be or not and quitting is not an option. (This morning there was such a forest on my ill-fitting storm door and I was once again a child, standing in the kitchen in front of the open oven door to banish the night’s chill and to admire the artistry.) They had to hurry though, because once the furnace cranked up and the house warmed, the fairyland would melt away. Once upon a time, uninsulated houses - who ever heard of insulation? - were galleries for his talent and children delighted in finding all the pictures. He will create, on what was a bare pane, a vista “of trees and flowers and vines and swirling leaves and frozen fountains until the whole pane is covered and the outdoors outside the window has disappeared. Storm windows have mostly sealed those little cracks that allowed him to slip his brush into the house’s warmth, and his magic could begin. The artist has been waiting for the disgusting (to him) warm days and nights to end so he can get to work.Įvery year his task is harder. While we were sleeping and even the stars shivered, he finally came, bringing with him his brushes to paint an icy forest on the window.
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