Convent of Mercy Academy - Annual Yearbook (Mobile, AL)

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Weshman Week AND WERE WE BABIES!!

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Here and Chefs WML

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Cflass Praplzecy Can this be a dream, I thought, for before my eyes stood a giant hour-glass, in which minute grains of sand were constantly flowing. I ventured closer, and a strange, almost unbelievable sight arrested my attention. Slowly the tiny particles of sand gave way to a radiant light, and the strains of Auld Lang Sync sounded softly in the distance. This was the Class of 1944 , and the graduation cere- monies were coming to an end. As the picture slowly faded luminous letters 1954 , appeared. What can this mean? Am I to catch a glimpse of my classmates, as they would be, ten years hence? Yes, that was to be my privilege. The light dimmed and slowly there appeared a lovely girl, standing before a large group of musicians, who were playing softly. The girl is Mary Frances Clements, whose musical ability and earnest desire for achievement in the world of music, has brought her fame. As the conductor guided the melodious tones of the orchestra, there appeared a pretty, dark-haired girl, surrounded by a group of small children in costcme. Instantly, I recognized Anna Mary Aubey, whose love for danc- ing, at which she excelled, has prompted her to share her talent by teaching others. There is a delighted smile on Anna Mary's face as she watches her pupils, for she has realized a fond hope and ambition, at last. Oh, what lovely children! Could the lovely ladies who are following at a distance, be their mothers? The picture becomes clearer, and Ann Farnell and Roberta Constantine smile out at me. I don't wonder at their happy expressions, for one can plainly see the virtue of motherhood mirrored in the countenances of these two loyal friends. The scene changes, and a lovely girl descends a winding staircase. A group of people look on with interest, and applaud as the model pauses at the foot of the stairs. This tall and stately girl is Connie Andrews, whose poise and beauty have won for her a high position on the ladder of success. The massive silver wings of a large passenger plane make impressive shadows on the ground below. As the plane descends to earth and finally comes to a stop, many passengers are seen alighting. Two girls appear in the door-way, and instantly, I experience a sensation of recognition. My two school friends, Mary Helen Perez, and Estelle Hyde, returning from South America, where they have been doing journalistic work, smile at me, and continue on their way. Soon the passengers all seem to have departed, and the pilot appears at the door of the plane. He steps down and turns to assist a girl dressed in the uniform of an Airline Hostess. Aurelia Watson , I exclaimed, and the trim figure lifted a hand in greeting, and was gone. That yard, 4 the basketball court, - it all seems so familiarl , I exclaimed. And rightly so, because it was our own school yard, in which I had experienced so many happy hours. I hear voices, Agnes, did I make a foul shot, and Am I a guard Agnes, or a forward? Of course, - Agnes Ellis, teaching other little Mer- cians her beloved sport, basketball. Was that the school bell ringing? A pleasant faced nun comes toward the group of children. I can see at once that she claims the love and esteem of each one of the pupils, by the tone of their affectionate greeting. Yes, God has chosen Faye Yeager as one of his own. Dear Faye, who was always ready to come to the aid of one of her fellow students, now lavishes the same kindness and generosity upon her pupils at Mercy. As the students climb the stairs to their classes, the picture fades away. Who are those girls, chattering away, over that fashion magazine? As one lifts her auburn head for a moment, I recognize Margaret Gideon. She is speaking to Ann Girod, with whom she owns a fashionable dress shop, about a new collection of illustrations by June Cahall, noted designer. It seems only natural that the work of these friends should be so closely co-ordinated. As Ann closes the book', the three girls smile, and are gone. Goodness, the Providence Hospital! Are some of my classmates ill- I wonder what I shall find here. And, almost at that instant,my curiosity is satisfied, for I see Josephine Anania standing at a desk, speaking to a small, brown-haired girl who is also in uniform. Isn't that Bettye Calametti? Of course! My two classmates have wisely chosen nursing as their profession, for Bettye is now Super- visor of Nurses, and Josephine is in charge of Nurseries. I am sure that the happy