Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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A SERMON IN GREEN BETTY DAVENPORT OVELY, dark blue leaf shadows, tracing a delicate ever-changing pattern on the blackboard and walls, bowls of gaily-tinted flowers, and green ferns in shaggy brown bark boxes on a shelf run- ning along two sides of the long room-that's 218, our botany room. Looking across the room and , through the glass, for one whole side of the room , is made up entirely of windows, you can catch an alluring glimpse of green plants. You walk down the wide aisles between brown and green movable desks, up three steps, and through the high French doors which open into the green- house. Once there, it is hard to decide where next to go, for all along the bench, which extends the entire length of the greenhouse, is an attractive array of leafy plants, each of which arouses your interest. Everywhere you look, you see them: cheerful little yellow ilowers, begonias shading from rose to pale pink, sturdy geraniums, their brilliant red blossoms openly courting your attention, and the more delicate rose-geraniurn, with its dainty fern-like leaves. Half-way down the bench is a glass box, full of interesting little mosses, liverworts, and lichensg and above it, a hanging basket, trailing its long strands of ivy across a cyclamen plant, whose blossom, an ex- quisite deep rose one, is just unfolding. A square at one end is given over to a group of cacti-the untouchables of plant life. Woe be to any inquisitive linger that goes poking around their sharp thorns and bristles. There's another look but not touch plant on that bench, too, for there are two or three pots of sensitive plants which, at your slightest M H 0 il j:, .ig9fgTl'lf.l , -- ' i' ra-V ' A' ' 'fl EX gf rl 'Q0J.'f-F24 ' il I I .1-0' 'F :lv Wi. '?--2-.'.:f.-13-4 . Q ....,, l R , ' if .511 ,j Ui if' 1Qf:?.Qi-.EQsj, ' 1, , It L' ff? 'Gy h 2 if- fl 152 Wim 2541562-2 'f7f? ' g WS All 1 -4 f iiH5 nU ,- If 9 ixwlhhi' 'W lk -1 live :fig 'eff f 0' S 4 T 'QW . --fe .0 f f ' fn -dlp lm' gif?-.-if-'.+ .,i 'f f b ,, ith, .hairy w ,bm w I J X A A. ,L,,.,.,ji'i ws .5Q1.'..':-j:, : ul-. fu-1.-A 1, - M' ' A lv - - -, fu V. 'L -2' 1-- V i Ni v W , VN' .- 1 'ge K M Ea:-.is.'.:js.1. 1 T Tr ac e- .. . H , lt' xii! W 5f?ii' :4ff.Tl. 1 , gam er ' 0' Q E ns l. 1 ,fe f xl ' 1 ' 1. . Y V, T iff -1 , ' f' gl-N ' -,K A ,M ,jllzgl 34... 2 f' - I ,Q - ','-5 . 52514 -e ' X. . ' Yu! Q mi:-szfi-3 . 'biqqzvw V Mn-U If g J Wi Txg ' ' 5 m n ' I . W FIM We . N ', t':f 11 2 .ate-. -as 'Stihl W L iz, 1 ,H 1 ,W l ,.f.::u,, ,lu-fi 'I i .7 A- I .. ,, - -3 l' j Syn fig. ! N 'MQ 'ilfllti x R ll I ..5f:SQ, vm ,iv ',5.1-tp, 2 w Off . 361' iL.:.25'i ,Lge- 0 '-y fix' 1 P 449- .vg.f - -Ja - e, L as Us Zim 1 xvvnArr1nLn'a.- I,

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A MOONLIGHT SAIL showed the position of a small, sleepy town, which had retired long ago, and now lay like an infant on the shore of the protecting lake. As the sloop neared the town, the wind changed its course a bit. Owing to this fact and the lateness of the hour, we came about and started home- ward. The moon was now gone. Water and sky met and seemed to merge, leaving a blurred line as the only sign of intersection. The wind had become cooler but was not so strong as it had been, and our progress was much slower. As we neared the familiar inlet, the wind slowed to a breeze and within the bay the breeze became hardly noticeable. With the dying of the wind, everything about the sloop became drowsy. There were none of the cus- tomary noises which one hears when a sailing vessel is in motion. The creaking of the mast, the rattle and squeaking protests of the pulleys, the hum of the bilgeboards, all were silent and as if this cast its shade upon them, the members of the sailing party were hushed and talked ln subdued voices. The sloop was soon made ready for the night and anchored at its buoy. In groups the party dispersed, the sound of their steps on the board walk ringing clear over the water. I remained, seated on the end of the pier, listening to the resounding echoes of the steps of the departing sailing party. Soon all was silent save the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the anchored sloop. Possessed with a deep feeling of content, I hoped that life would always be like this. I wondered. Suddenly, into my revery broke the realization that while I lingered, another day was approaching, and I arose to go. However, it seemed as if I took with me some of the solem- nity and inspiration with which the great out-of-doors must inspire those whose joy it is to live and work in the great open spaces. Lava It crept and seethed, Rolled in and out, It was ill at ease, It was all about. Alive, it seemed, This menacing mass, A glowering fiend Grasping all in its clasp. It slowly surged, Boiling and burning, It hissed a dirge While milling, churning. It sang of fate, Laughed at creation, And left in its wake Complete desolation. -Marcella Moore

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A SERMON IN GREEN touch, fold up and wilt. And if you like little things, you are sure to be captivated by the dishes of soft baby's tears you will find, almost hid- den by the tradescantia, which scrambles all over the bench, wherever it can get its roots into the warm sand. If you have any appreciation at all for lovely things, then you can't help enjoying-our greenhouse and each of its plants-from the tiniest green seed-leaves to the big coarse rubber plant with its great flat leaves. If you have a class in this room, you are indeed fortunate, for, no matter what the weather outside may be, it's always summer in 218, and forty minutes spent there provides a pleasant and restful break in the even tenor of an ordinary school day. PUSSESSIONS I have always thought of possessions as cherished blessings, which in- clude material as well as spiritual things. The most cherished of my possessions are gifts which cannot be taken from meg such as, a sense of humor, a love of music, the delight of drawing, and the enjoyment of spring and fall. I cannot explain why these things appeal to me so strongly, perhaps it is my innate desire for the beautiful things in life, and yet it may be environment. Nevertheless, they are my blessings, and money cannot buy them. It would take pages to list all of my treasures, things which would mean very little to an outsider, yet they mean a great deal to me. Many of these possessions can be found in my room 5 namely, a picture of my mother when she was sixteen, done in pastels, and several pieces of delicate china, hand-painted by my grandmother. Then there are my two adorable white statues of Venus and Diana, some lovely jewelry which was my grandmothers, my beautifully illustrated English maga- zines, and my own efforts to be an artist. Of course, each of the above could be enlarged upon, but I think I should continue. There are my feather-bed, with its downy pillows, the soft pink lights, and the sway- ing pink curtains. My room on the third floor faces west, and drinks in all the exuberant beauty of the sunsets and catches the sun's exquisite color in the shadowy corners at evening. Fascinating little breezes skip and dance merrily from one object to the next, ruflling the covers of the bed, pushing the curtains back, and whispering gently in my ears till soothing sleep overpowers me. Of all my priceless possessions, the most loved ones are my family and home. Sympathy, understanding, gayety, sorrow, arguments, and connected and disconnected repartee are all melted into one un- fathomable family, not perfect by any means, but, oh, so delightful. Is it any wonder that I care so little about going where the atmosphere bends to sororities, clothes, or rating ? Sometimes I feel that I have too many possessions for my own good, nevertheless, I should not care to give up any of them, and, Heaven knows, I am most thankful for them all. -Barbara Hagen SW3.ll'l