Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

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FW: -,..9fIf. S. ummm uumu mummmu mum umnmmm mum nnummun numuu1u1nI1un1xu111unmumuummunnInuu1In1u1n11unnnmuuuunmIunInnImnnnumunmnmnmnmml ing the line in the water. Yes, we had the bait, and we had the hooks, but somebody had to do the dirty work. We drew straws to see who should bait the hooks. I closed my eyes and prayed that it wouldn't be Ig it fell to the lot of one of the boys, who went about the task as if he thoroughly enjoyed it. When the sun began to sink, and the ardent fishermen decid- ed they had had enough, we unpacked our lunch and found more uninvited guests: ants-big ants, little ants, black ants, and red ants. We shook them off, pinched them off, and ate what we had left. After this so-called lunch, we called it a day and started back to the car. In bed that night, I began to roll and turn and twist, and all the self-control I could muster could not keep me from scratch- ing. I decided that I had brought something besides fish home with me: those pesky little nuisances which cling so close to you that they even get under your skin-Chiggers !! I mean what I said at the beginning. Never again! Dawn By Robert Burgess At last I reached the greatly cherished hill And stood above the quiet sleeping town Still wrapped in the ghostly robe of misty white That swiftly passing night threw softly down. Look, the east is fast becoming gray. It is the overture, the break of dawn. The stars fall back to make way for the kingg The glowing sphere appears to crown the morn. The fog rolls up its cloak and disappears Stars twinkle, fade and vanish from our sightg On thin, white clouds the sun's rays brightly fall, And behold again the morning conquers night. IllIllIlIIIlllllllIlIIilllllilhllllllIiiillillllllilllllllllllllll Page twenty-nlne . .

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ffm, Qllaafi' v v Never Again By Murrell Godsey l., MEAN it! Never again will I be lured away from my ,if cool, comfortable front porch on a hot summer morn- - ing to go fishing. A First we had to make a raid on our garbage pail I to find an empty cang then armed with spades, we searched for a damp place where those nice, fat brown fishing worms abide. Ugh! Just close your eyes and pick up a handful of these wrigglers and put then in the can: but even now, seven months later, I don't have to close my eyes to feel that horrible, creeping, crawling, quavering sensation when I feel that warm mass of living, squirming worms slide through my fingers. Next we loaded the car with our fishing poles, bait, and lunch. Then, guided by the most enthusiastic of young Isaac Waltons, we headed for the great open spaces. When we reached a certain place, We had to get out and walk the rest of the way through a stretch of woods down to the Creek. We thought it was unbearably hot when we started on our trip, but by the time we had plodded through these woods, slipping on pine tags and rolling logs, brushing webs from our faces and hair, breaking away from the briars which would detain us, We decided that these woods were nearly as hot as Hades. Then, too, we had annexed more guests-uninvited guests, those buzzing, biting insects which want to claim rela- tionship with you. With a pole in one hand and a can of bait in the other, we had little chance of waging a winning engagement with the mosquitoes. How much farther could this creek be? We had gone so far it was silly to turn back now, so, Excelsior l Oh! At last the air felt fresher and cooler, and after clam- bering through another bunch of laurel bushes, we found the elusive creek. We were ready to drop in our tracks, but, if We had, we should have landed in poison ivy, so We had to go on farther up the creek trying to locate an ideal spot for fishing and eating lunch, sans poison ivy. We found it, dropped everything, and sat down on a fallen log. We sat and sat and sat, too tired to talk or move. It seems that you have to put bait on the hook before cast- . . . Page twenty eight

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Tribute By Martha W11hamson Bes de the rollmg sea I stand To watch as each successzve 'wave Prostrates ztsebf upon the sand Almzghty kmg and lowly slave The swayzng palm exterzds zts hand And awed I see obezsance made As wave on 'wave ascends the shore Upon the beach nch gzfts are lazd KThe sea through storm zts treasure bore Such br llzant gems of coral and jade My humble pen cannot dzsclose My feelzngs as I realzze How small such trzbutes are to those That man and earth the sea and slzzes 'Yi Should pay to Hzm 'who good bestows' NN IKIQWMH numnnnmunumnununnummummm Page thirty