Castlemont High School - Falcon Yearbook (Oakland, CA)

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Etna falcon F orty-fiue Night Clouds By MILLICENT SKINNER All through the night The clouds scurried, Seeking only to avoid The moon, Which pierced, with its cold Beams, their Frail transparency; Seeking only to press themselves Into the blackness of the sky; But it, with sable Contemptuousness, Pitilessly revealed Their thin, pale bodies; And the wind Tore loose Their slight grasp, And vivisected them. And they cried aloud To God for mercy, And He stilled the winds. In the morning I found them Huddled behind an eastern hill. Dismal, desolate, disconsolate, Quietly whimpering, Seeking only to comfort one another, Little knowing that even this Brief respite Would soon be denied them By the relentless rising Of the sun.

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dtbe falcon Think Iill go home and try and read some of his books before dinner. They are hard to understand, but some day they will mean a lot to me. O O 9 Years later, seated in an important office, this boy, now a man, answered the telephone ringing on his desk. llHello. Yes, yes. A cut finger? Thatls too bad. Pretty serious, eh? Well, put a little iodine on it and 1,11 come by in about twenty minutes. All right-finef, He stood up and went to the window, which offered him a view of New York City at its busiest hour. He didnlt see, however, the high buildings, or hear the sounds of cars and trains, for he was thinking of a day long, long ago, when he, a lad of twelve or so, had dreamed of becoming a doctorelike his Dad. He had followed his dream all through school, taking every medical course he could manage. His practice at first had been small, but steadily it had increased with peopleis knowledge of his dependability. Now he stood one of the heads of his professionea man admired, respected and happy. The Quest By JAMES LOREALL Oh, God, for those you love and bless Why all this search for happiness With all the color in the skies, Why all the longing in the eyes Of those I pass? Is it a thing that humankind Must all look for and never find? 01' do we hold within our hands And in the things each understands The ending to our quest? Forty-four

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dtbe faltun HOUSES By HILDRETH MANZ OUSES, like faces, give us an index to their character. The burden of life seems to rest heavily on the doorstep of the weary-looking house. Its faded and careworn appearance suggests that the battle is a grim one and that the victory is almost won by those who carelessly and wantonly have tramped in and out, up and down and around. If only the painter, gardener, and general repair man would come to her aid. 9 In contrast, we find a hearty invitation at the glad home, whose gate stands open to all alike. Its appearance is neat and trim. Its well-cared-for yard, with flowers, grass, trees, and shrubs7 is the setting for this home, which is sometimes large and sometimes small. There it stands in perfect peace, with its countenance of generosity and gracious hospitality awaiting your approach. 9 Up and down the lane of wealth we stroll to see the magnificent homes which are placed in surroundings that at first sight appear like a glorified paradise. But are they really homes? Will happiness, generosity and hospitality be found awaiting you there? Their sedate walks lead to heavy oaken doors, carved and bolted. The general appearance makes you gaze with silent awe. You wonder what lies hidden behind those barriers. Although invisible, the words, 6nNo Trespassingi, are clearly spelled before yOu. 9 Long ago this f antastic domicile, which stands in the most forsaken part of town, was vacated for a better abode and more select neighbors. Its shutters hanging on rusted hinges, its gabled roof and fancy carved trimmings give an air of mystery. The outside walls are dirty and lacking paint. The porch, with its fancy decorations, is almost completely concealed by wild vines. It is a picture of desertion and forsaken ambitions. . It matters not how old fash- ioned, new fashioned, grand or small, poor or rich, 64It takes a heap of living in a house to make it home? Bravery Brave are they who feel no fear, Fear no thought and shed no tear. But 7tits braver to have known Fear, yet never f ear have shown.