Saint Ursula Academy - Scroll Yearbook (Toledo, OH)

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I know it's a big mistake, but here I gof' The band sounded wonderful to Fran, and with all the- sweet, swingy notes went her resolution. When the dance was over there was no time for speeches. She could do her other assignments in the morning, but, oh, the poor speech. Nine o'clocked loomed. Time for her speech and the speaker, speechless. Nervously she walked into speech class. The professor called her name. Silence! Do you have your speech, Frances? No, sirln 'fYou will give your speech privately, be-fore December twenty-fifth, or you will not receive your credit. I shall hear you tomorrow at ninell' There she was. She had to have the credit. She had planned on taking the five-thirty, this evening. Now she' would have to take the eleven o'clock in the morning, and hope there was a formal still unsold in town. That night Fran worked hard, deter- mined to give the mightiest speech of her career. She set her alarm for eight o'clock so she could go over her speech and report on schedule. The n,e'Xt morning the alarm didnlt go off on time. At eight forty-five Fran jumped out of bed, rushed around frantically, and at nine-one reached the speech room. A note addressed to her rested on the desk. It stated that lNIr. Forest would meet Fran at ten o'clock for her speech. That didnlt bother her as it gave her a little time to go over it. It was ten o'clock and no one ap- peared. The train left at eleven oyclock. Fran had to get a new formal. Ten o'clock-no teacher. Ten-thirty-at last Dir. Forest entered. Fran went through her speech with flying colors, and when she reached her room, she could hear the train dancing on the rails toward home. The next train left at fiveethirty. Well, there was no doubt about it, she would wear the blue formal and like it. At five-thirty Fran boarded the train and started on what seemed an eternal ride-. She reached home and slowly made her way upstairs to her bedroom. She went to get the blue formal. The dress was gone! She ran downstairs. Yes, her mother had given it away, Hbecause they needed it in the school play and Fran had declared she could never wear it again. f'Oh, why was I ever born 7' lamented Fran, tears rolling down her face. This question remained unanswered, for just then the phone rang. The voice on the other end was full of apology: f'Frannie, Ilm awfully sorry I have to tell you this, but I-broke my ankle skating, and I canlt take you to the dance. Are you mad FU The Wind When the wind begins to blow, The trees bend to his conznzand. And when he is still, Plow proud and straight they stand. Lihe millions of slaves, hypnotized by his strength, They how and sway their trunks, their length. He twists and turns their branehy arms In cities, in valleys, on plains and on fllflllf. dll over the world the wind can express The way he feels through the trees' helplessness. - JEANNETTE TRERIBLAY '45 EE THE SCROLL 5

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A e You Mad? Christmas was only two weeks away, and the feverish anxiety of the coming holidays was rising in Frannie as it was in everyone else. Only two more weeks and then a glorious vacation of two weeks, she kept repeating to herself. The afternoon mail brought an added attraction for the holidays, an invitation to the Country Club Christmas dance. -- PATRICIA CELUSTA '43 smuggle a coke, I won't mind. Now get out so I can work in peace. About five minutes later another loud rap-in poured Susie and Barb from next door. Come on, Fran. By popular request we've been delegated to drag you down- stairs or the party is coming he-ref, Poor Fran was the victim of con- spiracy. Her speech was still a thing Oh, time, you drag! Two whole weeks. Would they ever pass? Now arose the prob- lem-what would she wear? Last year it was the blue formal, so she simply must get a new one. Vacation started on the twenty-fourthg if she left the night of the twenty-third, she would have a whole day to shop. In the meantime there were several assignme-nts due before she left. The most threatening one at present was the speech for the last day. With Hmggga CHRISTMAS GREETINGS To our patrons and advertisers with heart- felt thanks for your co- operation and a sincere wish that peace may be yours at Christmas time. TESTER of the future. The next day could promise little except hard work. By working night and day, and only by that, could she do her speechg and she meant to do it. Immediately after sup- per, with firm resolution, Frannie sat down and began her laborious task. Her pen fairly flew across the pages. The in- troduction was finished. VVhat progress she was making! Then: f'Hey, Fran, there's a dance over in the gym- Santa Claus and all. Going? so many things whirling through he-r mind, how could she give a speech? Time passed faster than Fran realized. Only two days remained and the speech was still uncomposed and unmemorized. Tonight she would write it and the-re would be tomorrow to learn it. With pencil poised, she was at last ready to start when the door opened, admitting her room-mate, Pepper. Hi there, Fran! Why so serious? The dorm is having a party downstairs. Come on and have some fun. Cokes and potato chips for nourishment. No, my dear, your YOOIH-mate is not going to be tempted. I have a speech that must be Written. If you can Not tonight, Barb. I was forced last night but tonight an army won't move me. Too bad! It's going to be a ne-at dance. As long as you're not going, may I borrow your white sweater? Thanks. Bye ! Whatys this dance anyhow? The Country Club affair will make this look like a barn dance. So picking up her pencil she recommenced, only to be in- terrupted by Pepper. Fran, please go to the dance. You can just walk over with me, then come right back. I'll do your Spanish for you. Please, pretty please!!' 4 0 THE SCROLL

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Servant of Mary. .. Rev. Gerald Dunne cc ILlVIARY,H servant of lVIary, is not only the title of Father Dunneys new book, it is a de- scription of Father himself. It isn't very often one reads a book one week and in- terviews the author the next, in fact, it isn't very often one finds a well-known author in one's own home town. But it can and did happen in Toledo. I know, for it happened to me. The book Gil- mary -its author? Reverend Gerald W. E. Dunne, Litt. D., instructor of religion and mechanical drawing at Central Catholic. After I had ensconced myself in his office, Father began to talk on his favorite subject, poetry. Simply and clearly he stated his ambition: Very early in my career I set out to attempt the perfect wedding of sense and sound . . . If a man has the ability in word, music, and thought, why not express the greatest thought in the most musical way?U In Gilmary', this ambition, we believe, has surely been realized. - ELEANOR JACOMET '43 Often we have wondered, when others have criticized Edgar Allan Poe, why, if his poems aren't good, do we waste our time studying him? Father answered this by explaining that Poe had the per- fect expression of rhyme and rhythm, but that his poems lack that deeper meaning utterly essential for truly great poetry. Father said, HI was always sad that Poe had nothing to say, and that lesser poets said things so unmusicallyf' According to Father Dunne, Father Abram Ryan, the poet priest of the South, occupies one of the highest places in American literature. HFathe1' Ryan has written one of the three greatest lyrics in the English language, I would not say his f'Song of the NIystic is the third greatest, nor the greatest, but it is one of the three greatest ever written in Englishf, For years Father Ryan has been neglected-chiefly because of the lack of material concerning his life- -but now he is coming into his own. It was interesting to learn that Louis J. lVIaloof of the New Orleans Times Picayuneu has been gathering material on Father Ryan and now has enough for several volumes. He expects to pub- lish the life of Father Ryan in the summer of 1943. I put my benefactor literally 'on the spot' when I asked him to name his favorite poem in Gilmary. In com- mon with every other writer, he ac- knowledged that he possesses a fatherly feeling toward all his poems-still, he tried to pick a favorite. After leafing through the volume, pausing now and then to read a few lines, he admitted he had a tender spot for K' lOknoi. I felt I was a poet after writing this, he said. 'Oknoiu deals with the scrupulous soul and will not for this reason, per- haps, have a universal appeal for the general public. No one can fail, how- ever, to recognize the philosophy, the CContinued on page 44D 6 THE SCROLL