WHEN ALL WHO WRITE OF DESE AND DOSE CAN SHINNY UP J. THURBER'S PROSE, THEIR TALES OF FATHERS, MOTHERS, AUNTS, COUSINS AND UNCLES AND GRANDPARENTS, THEIR "MEET THE FOLKS" (WITH FAMILY JOKES) WILL BE ACCLAIMED. BUT DON'T LOOK NOW — BECAUSE THEY WON'T. THEIR WRITING NOW IS BUT A HOAX — FOR HE'S BOTH ACORNS AND THE OAKS. Happy tumbling around in the family tree, and some assorted local bushes, these are the author's permanent memories of people as important as rain in his early life, from old family history of past ancestors on to Ohio State University professors and Columbus newspapermen he knew. Except for these have appeared in the New Yorker and were happily noted as they were published; here they have been arranged in a "kind of chronological order....with a vague continuity" so that you progress from a step-great grandfather to the great grandfather who licked all his enemies, to Man With A Rose, grandfather who cherished his eccentricities, through to father, who was plagued by the mechanical and the manufactured, to which tells of mother and her elaborate pranks. And there is the practical nurse, the strange baseball field at the School for the Blind, and other assorted Columbian who found out the high visibility in which these people, lovely people, appear. So "meet the folks" in the nicest way possible.