Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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F R E C K L E S W H l , .7261- and dipping her soft hands into it, spread the moisture over my face. She then bade me look at my reflection in the silvery lake-and, behold, there were no freckles! For days afterwards, my life was brightened by the remembrance of that dream. We can not, however, exist on dreams, neither can we be happy with visions alone, and the radiance of what might have been, gradually faded, and I was denied even that consolation. At home, where we are well known, there is no object in trying to cover up the disfiguring spots, but when preparing for a journey among strangers, we labor diligentlyi to obscure them behind a thick screen of cosmetics. But the mirror tells no untruths. There, dimly seen, but un- deniably visible are the freckles. On our faces, white and staring, except for brilliant spots of rouge, can still be detected the hated spots. A wave of sickening despair envelopes us, and with slow, infinitely weary and painstaking care, we wash it all away. On one such occasion, my mother, perceiving my complete desolation, laid a comforting hand on my head and said, Don't worry about your freckles--donft make ylour life miserable on account of them, because, after all, you know, they are only 'sun-kisses'. Sun-kisses -I had never thought of it before, but I think I shall follow her advice. If we could all view the abominable disfiguration in this light, there might be something of beauty about them. You see, I am again riding on the crest of hope, I wonder how soon I shall be swamped by the undertow. 1

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P R-E c K-L-E--Q ened, despairing, disbelieving-not only in the merits of the plan, but in very God and man. One vain attempt follows close on the heels of another, until our life is just one long succession of attempts and failures. Many humane people, who feel their heart go out in sympathy to people relegated to the ranks of the hopelessly freckled, have labored, and have concentrated every fac- ulty on the solution of the problem. As a result, they, after much re- search work, produce a liquid, destined to remove freckles. Hundreds of dollars are then spent in advertising, so that this marvelous secret may be revealed to all mankind. Thousands of people rush to the Hfreckle-market, in the hope of securing a bottle of the miraculous liquid. For a few weeks, the bottles can not be furnished fast enough, and the person who discovered the mixture feels himself a lbenefactor of the human race. Suddenly, there comes an abrupt lull in the sales, and, within a short time, the market is flooded-the trusting people have again been duped. Still, men tryl to concoct some cream or lotionror powder or treatment -it matters little, what it is-which will rid the world of freckles. And, people, again restored to faith, will buy again and again, in the desire for perfect clarity of complexion. Alas, we are all more or less fools, to even imagine that the human mind could fathom a problem so deep. After many unsuccessful attempts of others, we should realize that mortals are not endowed with magic qualities. But still, we will permit ourselves to rise to the crest of hope, only to be swamped by the undertow of despair. I sometimes wonder if mortals will ever wake to the fact, that only the gods can accomplish the impossible, and is not the riddance of freckles, impossible? Oh, the ecstatic joy and delight, which would result, if the imperial gods would condescend to point out to man, a mixture of sweet herbs and nectar, whose application would give the skin a lovely, velvet- like texture, and which would above all, leave it freckleless ! Returning home one afternoon, I overheard a conversation-that is, part of it, for I did not linger-one young man said, How did you like that new girl, Bob? Rotten! She's freckled, replied Bobs. Yes, and she wouldn't be a bad-looking girl either, said the first young man. You're right, Bill, the girl has wonderful eyes, but- I waited to hear no more, and exited promptly and completely. I went to my repose with a heavy heartf but merciful sleep blotted out my woes, and slowly across my dreams spread a deepening glow of rose. I seemed to see a wonderful, golden figure glide through the rosy mist, and beckon me to follow. Through rose-hung walls, over broad, golden ter- races, down bejewelled walks, and across a gossamer bridge, into a great, cool wood with a lovely, laughing lake in its center, I followed, unques- tioninglyf. The golden figure led me to the very edge of the crystal water.

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MOON-FLOWE5 Oh wondrous flower of purity, With thy cup so fair and white, A sweet companion of the stars, A guardian of the night. Thy tender leaves do clamber O'er the pillar and the wallg And clad them in rich verdure Till the coming of the fall. Thou art just above the reach Of a mortal's eager hand: Thou doth tilt thy fragile blossom Up toward the heavens grand. Alluring is the name for thee, Tantalizing to us all, As on thy frail stem swaying, Thou doth smile down from the wall. The mystery and the beauty, That night doth ever hold, Are distilled in sweet aroma Within thy heart of gold. Ethereal and enticing, thou With thy tender fragile grace, Nestling in thy fragrant bower A gem in a web of lace. MARY MARGARET' TUTEWILER