Kingswood School Cranbrook - Woodwinds Yearbook (Bloomfield Hills, MI)

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WHAT GRAM” SAYS When you sec the way a modem girl does dress, What she is trying to do is hard to guess. With bright red lips and bright red nails, A huge hair bow, and short pig tails. Saddle shoes neglected for many a day. Once beautifully white, now drably gray. Sweater buttoned in back, with pushed up sleeves And for shrinkage, of course, two sizes she leaves. Bright red stockings that reach to the knee Or spoon bent for bracelet, perhaps you may see. Hatless in winter and summer alike Just see—she’ll catch cold; serve her right! Is she trying to act old or young? I can’t tdl— And driving a car at her age-well! Strange is the picture the modem portrays, Tilings surely have changed since my days! Barbara Finsterwald AWE It was a CRISP, cold night when the stars shone brightly in the dear, dark sky and each one seemed endeavoring to be far more dazzling than the millions of others. Suddenly a star silently shot through the sky. Then another fell. Rapidly the number increased until wherever I looked, balls of light were gracefully gliding toward the horizon as swiftly and directly as Indian-shot arrows. Below the balcony where I was standing were miles of forests, the flaming autumn leaves—subdued by night-- and the fresh green hrs carpeted a boundless hall of whim the sky was the ceiling and I a mere spectator. How great Nature was! The constellations in propor- tion to which I was less than a needle-point revolved the same way for millions of years without change while I concerned myself with a day not even a fragment of the time. As I stood there dreaming, the heavens assumed even greater magnitude, and I steadily diminished, until with a brain swimming in stars I tumbled into bed wondering how anything could matter when such uplifting beauty existed. Maxine Appel TWO SELVES There are two of me: the person I want to be and the person I am. Alas, for this latter person; she has predominance over the other one. For instance, she is the one who has an insane desire to slide down long shiny banisters, regardless of time or place. The person I want to be would resist the lure of this enchanting but undignified mode of locomotion. The “person I am” has a loud voice and spills tea and trips over her own unruly feet. The “other me” is gentle and quiet, a Katherine Cornell sort of person. She has her fleeting moments of triumph when aided by high heels and symphony. But with the discarding of the external signs I wish I were” climbs onto a hanger, waiting for another formal occasion to make her reappearance. Then out leaps “real me” with amazing vivacity and, disguised in saddle-shoes and sweaters, leads me into endless difficulties and embarrassing situations. All me! the trials of being a dual personality! [67] Lyla Lmdn

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JUNIOR JOTTINGS The defiant black of the letters bold against the blinding white of the paper brought the impact of reality to the dulled apathy of his mind. WAR! • A sparkling white COVER of stars and diamonds over the entire landscape. The bright sun reflecting the shining crystals on the lawn and melting the shimmering ice on the over-laden trees. Two wavering snowmen faithfully guard the fading scene. Half-way UP THE hill, the truck chugged, faltered as if trying to decide whether to go on or give up, then with a grating of gears resumed its climb in second. The motor sobbed violently —too big a load for even ilf power. The enormous eight-legged insect reached the top, hesi- tated, panting for breath, and then with another gnashing of gears, rolled, victorious, down the other side. As l UE here trying to sleep, I can hear the ocean’s roar beneath my window. I think of each wave as a person whose life starts at the horizon and ends as it splashes weakly on the sandy shores. I consider their different moods: on sunny days noiselessly calm, murmuring softly with contentment, on gloomy days whimpering with complaints, and during frequent storms, blast- ing and screeching and fighting restlessly. • • Outside it is monotonously snowing. The trees stand by in boredom. Now and then comes an annoying whiff of wind. Gray sky, black trees and white snow. The scene is dull. • • [66}

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]. Shuell. M. . Cloonan, S. Holden, P. Lewii A. Parker, L. Landis, B. Pfohl, B. Brown, H. Corbus, G. Campbell WOODWINDS' STAFF Editor-in-Chief....................................... Literary Editor .............................. Assistant Literary Editor............................. Art Editor............................................ Assistant Art Editor.................................. Business Manager...................................... Assistant Business Manager............................ Photographic Editor................................... Snapshot Editor....................................... Sports Editor......................................... Lyla Landis Pat Lewis Harriet Corbus Mary Jane Cloonan Glad Campbell Jeanne Shuell Sallic Holden Barbara Pfohl Betty Brown Ann Parker [68] The Staff wishes to express its sincere thanks to Miss Josephine Waldo for her assistance and encouragement in presenting this issue of Woodwinds.