Claymont High School - Clay Tablet Yearbook (Claymont, DE)

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Pat averted his face and looked toward the flickering beam from the lighthouse-Mhis guiding light. None of this mattered now-he was going to the promised land, America! Now he was walking on the shore road where the black weather beaten rocks shone wet in the light. He heard the deep, throaty roars as the waves met and retreated from the shore. He must walk faster faster even thou wh his feet were tired and blistered. There was the pier! The keeper of the lighthouse turned the beam on the 'LAmerican. The news spread, and soon people were gathering around the pier. Men, women, and children waited patiently for their loved ones. As the ship drew nearer, sailors called to their families and threw their hats in the air. As the ropes were made fast, Patrick jumped on to the boat. Running over the weather worn boards, he burst into the galley of the second deck. Before the chief cook had a chance to speak, he blurted out, Any chance of my getting a job to work my way to America? Even a mess job will do. Please mister, say you will. The jolly chef looked him over, just in time, son, I was going to give one of the sailors i . fs the job, but you're a fine lad. You're hired. Patrick's heart jumped. He would see America soon! It was late in the afternoon when the American swept away from the little dock. The rolling waves leaped upon the snowy shore. People were waving goodbye. Patrick leaned against the rail, gazing at the beautiful country he was leaving. He could still see his mother standing at the gate. He had told her that he was going to make his fortune and that she wouldn't have to worry any longer. Patrick worked faithfully in the galley, patiently waiting for the new land. Cne night as he was getting ready for bed, he looked out the port hole. Could he be dreaming? But, no. There it wasiAmerica, the strange land where 'Leveryone was a millionaire. He scarcely waited for the ship to dock before he ran down the gang plank. As he looked about, he saw tall buildings. It would take him a hundred years to examine their splendor and magnificence. He felt like a speck against these monarchs. He was pushed along by the quickly moving people. When Patrick found himself, he was in the outskirts of the city and it was getting dark. He must find some shelter for the night. In the morning he would start for Philadelphia. Seeing a quaint old inn, which reminded him of his home in Ireland, he decided to go in. The couple who owned the inn insisted on giving him their large wooden bed. In the morn- ing the old lady made a kind of Irish stew consisting of dough, boiled with potatoes, and a little salt pork. Patrick relished this as he hadn't had a square meal since he had left the Americana. He inquired of the old lady when the carriage would be leaving for Phila- delphia. The woman said that if he hurried, he could get a ride. Pk Ik lk is After long hours of bumping, joggling, and slow moving, he finally reached Philadelphia. Patrick, expecting to see a mQh smaller city than New York, found one almost as large. He left the driver and weri inside a little store for shelter. Once inside, he searched his pocket for the letter that he had received three weeks before. He glanced at the address and hurried out of the store. Eighteenth Street, and this was Sixteenth. It wasn't very far, but he was so tired. The walk seemed like two hours to his aching feet. And there f in front of him he saw a black- smith shop. This must be the place Mr. Dougherty had described in his letter. At last he was there. He knocked on the door. It was opened by an old man who cried, Patrickl Patrick! my boy, you have come. Come in. You're tired. my lad. f'Oh! Mr. Dougherty, I am so glad to find someone I know. It seems so much like old Ireland. Come Patrick. you need some sleep. In the kitchen I have some porridge waiting for you. Later we can talk, but now you will rest my boy. 'Tis a long hard trip you've taken, but your journey's done. It's America you'll be loving now, my boy.

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FUTILITY Betty Garvin, 1938 HE soft square of blue velvet formed a striking contrast to the splintered oak drawer of the antique trunk. The tiny pearl bitton on one end fascinated me, and after a short hesitation I pushed it. With a little je' 1 the lid sprang up, displaying a beautifully fragile locket on a pillow of ivory satin, its gli chain coiled around like yards and yards of snake ready to spring. Even though the pale blue sparks of the medium sized diamond in the back told me that I was an outsider, I pried open the locket. There in the ashes of a dead rose was a dream. A large stone house is well hidden among stately oaks. As one approaches the massive doorway one can see the stables where race horses are given the most meticulous care. In the impressive living room a young man and girl have a stolen interview. After pleading earnestly for a few minutes the man paces the floor dejectedly, pausing now and then to settle a point with the girl, weeping silently into a lace handkerchief. But jesse, I can't forsake my family and marry you. They need me. We have been threatened twice, once by the Confederates and once by the Yankees. Each believes us to be aiding the other side. We may even lose our home. Jesse James, the notorious outlaw! This was during the Civil Xlilar, long before the days of plundering. Long before, bitter by persecution, the james' boys had banded together into a sort of Robin Hood conspiracy. You have given me your answer. I must leave. I can't hope any longer. Good bye. With not another word he is gone-never to return. The girl does not move. Dully, she listens to his footsteps echoing along the hall, listening, it seems, to the years of her life gliding by. Life has put her upon a pinnacle, and suddenly she isn't there. Slowly she walks out to the kitchen. Her forehead is wrinkled with contemplation. She stops at the door to the pantry where the household supplies are kept, she gropes about in the semi-darkness until she comes to a bottle. She throws back her head, opens her mouth and tilts the bottle so that its contents catapult down her throat. She swallows convulsively and then chokes. Somewhere there is a thud as something falls. There is a gentle, steadying pressure on her shoulder, like a hand and then the gray light from the doorway goes black and the floor under her slides off the edge of the world into space. The dream faded and I was left holding only a tiny locket-the last remembrance of my great aunt, Burtie Sanders. HOW FATHER CAME FROM IRELAND WITH TWO POUNDS AND AN ADDRESS Patricia Crerand, 1 9 38 NOW fell on the little town of Mountain Tully with relentless persistence. Already it was boot-top high and still the white flakes curtained theiiiir. Fitting weatherf' Patrick thought, to be leaving home. Maybe he would never seertiie quiet town again dressed in its white finery. In his pocket were two pounds and an address-lvlr. Thomas A. Dougherty, Xlllest Eighteenth Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States of America. What could he do with two pounds? It wouldn't pay his passage to America, besides he needed the money in order to enter the United States. Perhaps he could work his way over. Yes, that was it-maybe they would let him enter the galley of the ship. Pushing steadily along, he stared at the road ahead of him. Only once did he turn his eyes from the road and look back-but no, he couldn't turn back now. He wasn't a coward. He had started, and he would keep on. Now he was passing the old smithy where he had often worked after school with his father. It was hard to leave. But he must. His father was dead-killed in the Boer Nllfat. His body was there in the little church cemetery that shone through the trees. The chalky tombstones were scarcely discernible against the snow.

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SCHOOL CAFETERIA Marcia Sanders, 1938 Silence- Then A hell rings Footsteps approt A door hangs Feet scuffle Dishes clatter Money clinlcs Pupils chatter Dishes chatter Feet scuffle Doors hang Footsteps fade Then- Silence. Z 15' ,-4 I ich HO-HUM Betty Lovett, 1 9 3 9 A stretch of yellou' fluffy legs, Tiny protruding pin-point claws Catching the nap of the rug, A aide and sleepy yaun showing Tiny needle-like teeth of white- Tail extended, back hunched, Settling in a comfortable curve, Theref a soft purr-another yawn, Flutter of eyelids over eyes of emerald. HALOS Ruth Michener, 1939 l wonder if the Virgin Mary l-lad a halo around her head Looking at the Bahy Christ Child Slumhering in his tiny hed? Did he himself have a Crown of light Wheii he was living here on earth- Ministering to his people ln felloaship, in grief, in mirth? l wonder if immortal heings l-loiering around the throne above, Light the heavens with their radiance As they sing for joy and lore? All of these are only wonders, Someday l it-ill lcnou' instead, When I, changed to his likeness, May hate a halo 'round my head. THE LADY JEWEL Betty Lovett, 1959 Nestling in crimson satin, The Lady Jewel liesg A lovely radiant lassie W'ith large and violet eyes. Her cheeks are tinted with roses Of midsummer uhen in hloomg Her hair a jet hlach mist- Like rays of harvest moon. Her tiny fairy-like features Are of a golden tint, Her dress of a valiant color, The taste ofa julip mint. The radiance of these colors All mixed up as one, Resemhle the sunset rays Of her lord and master, the sun. THE RIVER Julia Stewart, 1939 Enough that it rushes along Down its appointed path, Lilce amateur it yells its song:- First there's a groan, then a laugh, Muddy and yellow, Roaring and loud, softer than rnellou All its foam forms a cloud. Sometimes it's playful- Other times itls tired- It usually has a dayfid, Then its energy is fred And in the duslcy tu-ilight lt lazily lopes along. And in the duslcy twilight lt sings a lullaby song.