Castlemont High School - Falcon Yearbook (Oakland, CA)

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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.

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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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Etbe falcon Things I Don,t Like To Do By ALICE BOULTER N THIS springly April day the birds are carefree and merry; they twitter and trill in the treetops, while the blue sky smiles sweetly, and little iiowers try to express their alfright tor is it delighth at finding them- selves in such a poetic world. I alone am disconsolate; for an unspringlike mood is upon me, and prosaic thoughts arise in my mind. Cynically I observe the wilted poppy in my huttonhole; and, inappropriate as it may seem, instead of thinking how sweet it is to be alive and how beautiful it all is, it comes to me suddenly that I do not like to write themes, and, moreover, I do not like to study U. S. and G. nor write letters to distant relatives. . I glance at the clock, and am reminded of another thing I d011,t like to do, namely, to watch for any length of time these clocks we have here at Castlemont. At the junior high I attended they had the kind of clock with hands which stand still for a minute and then jump to the next. They were much more interesting to watch than these, and I, being an inveterate clock-gazer, have often wished for the good old days when time jumped instead of crawled. . However, to continue: I don,t like to grate carrots; I donlt like to read stories with morals; I don,t like to listen to dis- -courses on alThe Importance of Spending an Hour :1 Night on 01165 Chemistryii; and I donit like to wash pots and pans; neither do I like to use an umbrella in rainy weather. . Furthermore, I donlt like to listen to Rudy Vallee singing JJO Solo Mic, nor do I like to hear a soprano sing thn the Road to Mandalay. 4 And these, much as it embarrasses me to admit it, are the thoughts that I think, while outside, Nature is budding and little breezes whisper of hope and gladness. And I sigh, for I remember that once, in my youth and innocence, I, too, laughed and danced gaily, and was happy; but now that all my illusions have been shattered, and I have reached the sophisticated age of sixteen, life has taken on a darker hue, which reminds me of one other thing I donit like to do, which I must add: I douit like to think of that test welre going to have eighth period. Forty-seven