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

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TENTH Ann Ainsworth .... 41 Broadmoor Ave., Colorado Springs, Colo. Joan And moo...........................Hillwood Dr.. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Elizabeth Barbour 2015 Lincoln Dr., Flint, Mich. Margaret Bradley 2916 Frederick Ave., St. Joseph, Mo. Natalie Bradley ... 2916 Frederick Ave., St. Joseph, Mo. Mary Ann Brownson.............................2130 Bciarhill Rd., Flint, Mich. Mary Bryant............................. 3463 Conger St.. Pott Huron. Mich. Alice Bustrong 318 Wellington. Traverse Gty, Mich. Charlotte Cohen ... 19450 Birwood, Detroit, Mich. Rose Mae Corhett............................. 2026 E. Whutcmore, Flint, Mich. Susanoe Crook ... .60 Colorado, Highland Park, Mich. Joan Danto ... 18677 Oak Drive. Detroit, Mich. Julsc Fitzgerald 320 Cranbrook Ct., Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Barbara Franklin..................................701 Park Rd., Jackson, Mich. Susan Gass............................. 20001 Warrington, Detroit 21, Mich. Carole Ghieck.............................Rt. 2 Ainsworth Rd., Hobart, Ind. Margaret Greaves................................. 260 Arlington, Elmhurst, III. Vivian Hanyi.....................................1771 Ackley, Wayne, Mich. Patricia Holt .... 5231 Deepwood. Bloomfield Hifls, Mich. Carol Hopkinson.........................10160 W. Outer Drtve, Detroit, Mich. Jean Jaffe...............................2126 Vardon Lane, Flossmooe, III. Christie Jones............................511 Euclid St., Middletown, Ohio Nancy Linn .... 1522 Kirkway, Rt. 3, Bloomfield Hills, Midi. Estelle Loud....................1450 Vaughn Rd.. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Joan McDonald 1015 Timberlake Dr.. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Melinda Mauck . W. Long Lake Rd.. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Sarah Marwil 19191 Prairie. Detroit, Mich. Jane Milcy......................... 2759 Pendleton Dr., Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Yvonne Miller 25217 E. Roycuurt, Huntington Woods. Mich. Nancy Muhlitnee 1215 Brook wood. Birmingham, Mich. Christina Norvrll .... 440 Lone Pine Rd.. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. GRADE Joan Pape.............................Ttowhndge Rd., Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Carrie Reed .... 1708 N. Prainei Galesburg, III. Nancy Reynolds....................... 407 Greenwood, Birmingham, Mich. Roxanne Rinaldo...................... 1347 Turvey Rd., Downers Grove, III. Elisabeth Roediger 870 N. Pemberton, Bloomfield Hilla, Mich. Gayle Rogers......................... 559 Half Moon, Birmingham, Mich. Barbara Shafer............................. 424 Green Ave.. Bay Gty, Mich. Janet Shields...............................510 West Hildale, Detroit, Mich. Martha Shtuder..................................RR. 3, Lebanon, Ohio Vicki Siegel......................... 4707 Ronald Drive, Middletown, Ohio Doris Smith.......................... 25414 E. River Rd., Gross» lie, Mich. Georgia Smith...............................136 Eaton Dr., Middletown, Ohio Sarah Snyder.........................3 Faculty Row, Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Eleanor Spilhaus.............................40 Crocus Place, St. Paul, Minn. Hallie St a nl wry......................5215 Winlanc. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. Christine Thomell .... 18455 Brenon Dr.. Detroit 23, Msch. Carlyn Vogt.................................515 Puritan, Birmingham, Mich. Donna Vogt...........................148 Gardner Ave., New London. Conn. Gertrude Walker Rye Park Apts., Apt. C-9, 125 Central Ave., Rye, N.Y. Christine Wallace.......................... 852 Puritan, Birmingham, Mich. Linda Writ................................ 1683 Lincolnshire, Detroit, Mich. Patricia Wilson........................... 8555 Gement Rd., Qarkuon, Mich. Carol Yamasaki................................... 3077 Livrmots, Troy. Mich. Jacqueline Zuelzer .... 19 Oakdale Blvd.. Pleasant Ridge, Mich. ABSENT FROM PICTURE: Linda Kay Allen .... 30 Woodudc Park, Pleasant Ridge, Mich. Margaret Johnson 2215 N. Lake Angelus Rd., Pontiac, Mich. Gwin Yntema .... 3950 Franklin Rd., Bloomfield Hills, Mich, 0 President of Qass

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FRESH THE WIND I turned my face toward the fresh cast wind. Sunlight danced on the water. I looked with pleasure at the sailboats tugging at their anchors. What an exciting day for a sailing race! A group of girls were already waiting eagerly for the drawing of boats. To my good fortune, I drew boat number two. Site had always seemed to love brisk weather. The Sailing Master called out die course: “Buoys to starboard. We rigged with great care, making all halyards fast and our mainsail taut. Much depended on this so that our boat would respond and perform efficiently. Up and down the dock was excited chatter. Need a cotter pin? Anybody have an extra baton?” “This boat has seaweed on the centcr- Isoard trunk.” Suddenly, as though to stop the confusion, the ten- minute gun sounded. Everyone quieted down, one by one pushing away from the dock. As Pat, my crew, and I tacked back and forth across the starting line, we realized how shifting and unpredictable the wind was becoming. This is going to be a tough race, with this wind and so many ex- perienced skippers out against us,” I remarked. “We’ll have to be careful. It would be easy to go over in this wind.” Pat answered. The five-minute gun sounded. We concentrated on the way we should tack down to the Cedar Island marker. We tried to time our- selves to be first over the line. Just as the lifeguard counted off the final seconds, our sail began to luff. The agony of those seconds seemed too great. The cannon boomed as I counted down the time. Our prow pointed into the wind. All six boats were parallel as we skimmed toward the buoy. It was anybody’s race. “It's going to be a mess around the marker; everyone’s trying to round it at the same place,” Pat observed. “I’m going to pull in close and try to slip on the inside. Any ad- vantage gained here might mean the race. We’ve got to win!” Suddenly the buoy was looming straight ahead. I didn’t want to hit it as I would be disqualified. I swung out too widely. “Buoy room!” Peggy, my constant rival, called blithely. Pat moaned loudly. “Now you’ve done it. We’ll be completely off course.” Desperately I tried to keep calm. Anything I did now mattered immensely. Actually, there was nothing to do but give way to Peggy. She slithered through, taking a slight lead over all the other boats. Unknowingly, Peggy had picked up some seaweed going around the buoy. Slowly, but surely, I gained on her. When our boats were finally side by side, I felt exhilarated, but also compelled to tell her of her fouled tiller. On the second leg, I held my head, which had increased by about twenty yards. Pat and I relaxed. The warmth of the sun and the sparkle of the water decreased our tension. “What a beautiful day to be alive. 'I here isn’t any other place I would rather be,” I exclaimed, as the boat worked purposefully through the water. Looking over my shoulder, I saw with great dismay that Peggy was coming up fast. I realized that in our relaxation we had drifted slightly off our course. Pat was worried. “You know how Peggy can sail. You had better get a move on.” Now back on course, our boats were so close they almost touched I had the advantage, as my boat was windward of hers. Thankful for that, I gave my full attention to what I was doing. We rounded the last buoy together. My boat was pointing perfectly. We were gaining. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a freak puff of wind!” Suddenly it came! 1 shot ahead to a sizable lead. Gose to the finish line I became confident. “Don't put anything past Peggy,” Pat warned. “Oh, she can’t beat us now,” I joyfully answered. “Rats!” I had tacked too close to shore. My small advantage had been cut in half. Peggy seemed to have her own wind and was coming up fast. “I want to win. I want to win!” I thought desperately. I had just about crossed the finish line when Peggy was suddenly beside me. “Boat to the lee, keep clear.” She nosed past me and the cannon boomed. She had won, not I. I put my head down to hide disappointed tears. Grimly, I held them back and called. “Nice race, Peg!” She waved and said, “Half of it's yours, Julie. Thanks for tipping me off on the seaweed.” “That cannon will sound for me next race,” I promised myself. And it did. . . . Julie Fitzgerald STUDY HALL Oh, bang, Oh, slam Of heavy books galore. Oh, weary eye, Oh, me, oh, my, Where does this hard work end? Oh, pencil worn, Oh, mind forlorn With knowledge crowding in. Oh, book. Oh, pen, Oh, written page, Although I know what I must learn I’d like to put you all aside. Oh, lake, Oh, grass. Oh, clouds and winds and sky! . . . Jacqueline Zuelzet

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FORWARD, SIDE, CLOSE “Well, how am I supposed to know what to wear? I’ve never been to one of these stupid things before. Can't I just call one person, Mom?” I really did not think that the idea of dancing class was stupid. On the contrary, I could hardly wait for the moment it started, but I wanted to get the point across to Mom that it was absolutely necessary to call someone, preferably everyone, about the clothing to be worn. She soon gave in, and from then on, starting at about four o’clock every Wednesday afternoon, our telephone was in constant use. The idea was to dress as much alike as possible without having identical outfits, and our teacher. Miss Severs Miss Barbara to us- stressed the point that white gloves were only proper. The Ballroom was a large spacious room with a piano in one comer and a huge mirror on one whole side wall -marvellous for primping. It was here that the nerve-racking process of being chosen to dance took place. There was usually a mad rush for one girl; then as the victor would proudly walk off, the defeated ones would drift to other girls and drag them out onto the flooor. Then a piping voice would cheerfully greet us. Good evening, boys and girls. Take your partners into dance position. Forward, side, close; back, side, close.” After a strenuous night of “side closes” our last partner would escort us to dac drug store next door. If you were lucky, you would get to sit down, but even after all the boys had given up their seats for girls, many would still be standing on their exhausted feet. The boys would treat us to anything, but if you selected something costlier than a cherry coke, you could count on not being chosen by that boy again. Sometimes this system worked out just perfectly. After you had wormed your way out of the crowd surrounding the soda fountain, you could either rush right out to your car or stick around” with your partner. If you chose the latter, you would probably be treated to something like candy. However, if the former was your choice, die boy would quickly catch on and never give you an op- portunity to try this stunt on him again. I was a member of a car pool; so when everyone was finally rounded up. we would politely say thank you to our escorts and then go out to the car. As soon as we were out of earshot, each event of the night was told and retold in each girl's own words. “Is Bob ever queer! He asked me to the movies tomorrow! (A school night.) “Of course I said no, but we're going Saturday instead.” Slowly the carpoolers would be dropped off at their houses and the conversation would die down only to be reopened the next morning in school. The biggest event of our sixth grade dancing class was the big final recital. All Miss Barbara's students were included in this program, and each girl had her very own partner, who had asked her, for die whole evening. Our parents and friends were all invited to come to see us show off our many talents in the line of ballroom dancing. The per- formance was a success, and only one girl lost her shoe throughout the whole evening! To us all, our sixth grade dancing class was a wonderful extra pleas- ure. Nothing could keep us from our weekly party - not even four feet of snow! We learned to have good manners as well as how to dance and get along with boys. This was a valuable experience for us all, and, when the classes stopped for the year, there was a great hole in our schedule for Wednesdays that could never quite be refilled. . . . Cindy Higgins