Brooklyn Technical High School - Blueprint Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 29 text:

I and You by ROBERT TABER, sz Did you ever stop to think, as I have, about the statement I moved my foot ? In that sentence, who or what is I ? Many people consider that 1 is a mind, a soul, a personality, or even life itself. When you die or cease to live, that I is gone. I no longer moves the foot, the hand, or the body. Your soul, your life, your living mind, your I is gone. Really your I looks through two holes in your head and sees. It lis- tens through two other holes, and hears, and through two others, it smells. By means of your nervous system, it feels. The I makes you think, and carries out your thoughts. It is a massive clearing house regulating all the minute parts of a large concern, which, in this case, is your body. The I makes you speak by moving your mouth and coordinating it with your vocal chords. That is the way the I in the body feels, but how does it look at others? How does it recognize others? The I in me recognizes you by your features, your walk, or your voice. It does not recognize you by your mind, or by your soul, or by your life. I recognizes you. To me, you is familiar because of various char- acteristics of the you. I recognize john by his walk or carriage, Cliff by his talk and phrases, Bee by her hair. All these are you. But I don't recognize them by their I, their soul or mind. Only you yourself can recognize your mind, your soul, your life, your I, whereas every- one can see your you. I is intangible, that is why it is hard to explain or to nize your own That is why many people call it different things, but one thing is sure: it is there. The I is merely a transient, living within the body or house. When the I goes, the life, the mind, the soul leaves with it, but the house or body remains. Where the I goes we all have yet to find out, but it is certain that only the I goes, the body stays. People who believe in the hereafter or other world say that the I is merely being prepared on earth, in the body, for this other world. You is tangible, you can define you. You is the body, the hair, the teeth, the features, the walk, the talk, the habits. It is something concrete, although the I directs the you, the you is entirely separate. The I is nothing with- out you , and similarly, the you is inanimate without From this you might call I animation, but without I, you is nothing. When the body dies the I goes on but the you re- mains. The features, the hair, the body, the teeth are all here. To me, both I and you are im- portant. Your habits, your walk, your speech, your features are all part of the person, which combines I and you. You is known to everyone and can be conceived, can be felt and can be photo- graphed. I can not be photographed, can not be felt and is hard to conceive even though it is plausible. I think that in order to better your- self the I in you should be built up, cultivated, or aided so that the you will follow and be directed by this important define. That is why only you can recog- 1-Mr. Siogren at his post in the Lunchroom. 2-Mr. Salz, new basketball coach, in action. 3-Mr. McNeil at the electrical control panels. 4-Mr. Starr, Honorary Senior President. 5-Messrs. I-Iamje and Bardonsky planning an assembly program. 6-Mr. Whiston in the foundry. 7-Mr. Walter jones. 8-Mrs. Torning showing how it's done. 9-Mr. Prestopino supplying music for his gym class. 10-Mr. Bassi. 11--Mr. Knudsen, senate leader of the Arista. 12--Mr. Russell jones at his post in the Library. 13-Mr. Heepe, leader of the Camera Club. 25

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The Mountain Illustrated by Nicholas Vitko The snow has floated softly down On many a winter's night, To form for me sweet nature's crown And cover all my might. And when the spring has driven far The blanket from my side, Then comes the sun, to warm my heart, And shine upon my pride. For Io! deep rooted in my earth There springs a sylvan growth, 'Twas in my soil it had its birth, To leave me, it is loath. And then, perchance, comes April's mist, To shroud my side in white, That when the clouds and I have kissed, This screen shall hide the sight. Through all the summer's golden glow, I listen to the sound, The tinkle, rustle, of the river's flow That wanders through my ground. But mostly, in me, silence lies, The quiet without sound, With but, perhaps, a whispered sigh, Or pattering on the ground. 26 The nights-the nights are dark with blue Witlm diamonds in the skies fThe winds have whispered me a clueM Wlmen heaven shuts its eyesj. But then, my forests change their shades, New colors blossom forth I'm gay with scarlet, golden, plaids, I laugh at winds from the north. Ere very long, these too are gone, Once more I stand alone. Those sounds I love so, there are none, But only winter's moan. As if the icy gale did play A requiem for those leaves, Whicli once upon my slopes did sway And whistle on the trees. But snow and rain can harm me not! My power is too great! My bulk is no mere human dot, Nor will my strength abate. And though at present, all my How Of life may seem quite done, Wlmen spring has called again, I'll know A new life is begun. by JOHN SCHEPP, A55