St Josephs College - Footprints Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 25 text:

Doors I DON ' T know how you feel about it. but doors have a great fascination for me. They arc like visionaries beckoning one to a strange land. They are kindly things, for they light the way to the future and mercifully hide the past unless —well, I suppose some people are unfortunate enough to open doors to skeletons better left forgotten in the cover of night. But then, some people always have a perverse, unhappy faculty of blundering into trouble. Few things express character the way doors do. They are usually very decorous and seem to admirably adapt themselves to fit their surroundings. When you see a heavy, massive, oak door, you always think of it as belong- ing to ;t ponderous stone building. The cathedral door is different from the front door on a suburban home. The former is heavy, cunningly carved and has little slits of windows at the top. It is dark, high and massive, and ter- minates in a graceful point that places it in harmony with its Gothic setting. It is a door made to withstand a battering ram. One can imagine it with a wild, barbaric foe on the outside and within — sanctuary. It shuts a man inside and leaves him alone with his God, while the forces of the world vainly try to enter. The door of the suburban home plainly shows that it is the entrance to the house of man. It is (at least, the one I have in mind is l plain and simple, hut not without its charm. It is made of some nondescript kind of wood and is painted in attractive green and tan panels. At the top of the door is an oblong window frame with eight small panes of glass- very pleasing to the passerby, but the bane of the housekeeper ' - existence, (low tempting are the bright brass door knob and the equally bright knocker! bove the door, there is a number plate bearing phosphorus numbers which are sup- posed to shine at night, hut which never do. somehow, when one has left the dealer ' s shop. This door tells you that there is comfort, peace and security within. It breathes the spirit of the home and Eairl) glows in its own quiet way. It protects the pretty little mother with her happy children. shutting out all intruders and keeping the famih safe and secure within the little home. When the man of the house comes home, it opens readily and greets him cheerily for the little door can love. The palatial city mansion would never he content with such an unsophisticated door. It has its own type and. whenever one sees a grilled door, with its solid, metal frame, its long plate glass, the intricate pattern of the iron work running from the top to the bottom of the frame on the outside of the glass, its dull iron knobs, curiously wrought, it always recalls the dignified city house. It comports itself fittingly among its fashion- able companions — the beautiful stone of the walls, the carefully planned lawn, the broad marble steps. Grilled doors are a luxury and proudlj pro- claim the fact. Consider the mishaps that revolving doors cause. Many a careless traveler has found himself wedged in a door of this type because he foolishly persisted in carrying his suitcase the wrong way. I have seen many a Stranger stand looking helplessly at these relentless doors. Often he would rush at them in much the same manner that Don Quixote attacked the windmill. Sometimes he would give it a gentle push and it wouldn ' t move at all. Then he would exert his full strength — only to have the door spin around so quickly that he wouldn ' t get out at all. These doors arc- cynical things. They sneer at the weak humans who attack them. Their philosophy §| I9fc

Page 24 text:

Dickens has described it as a palace mure majestic and magnificent in its old age than all the buildings of the earth in the high prime and fullness of their youth. Its galleries are so delicate that fairy hands might have fashioned them, and yet they are so strong that all the wear and tear of centuries have battered them in vain. Beside this palace stands the cathedral of St. Mark, one of the glories of modern Europe. It has been called the church that can lie neither described nor forgotten. Guarding its portals are the four famous In uses, so important in the chronicles of Venice. This building afforded work for Doge after Doge, and generation after generation its splendor increased. Its shape was altered, its treasures expanded, until, in the beginning of the nineteenth century, the great Napoleon conquered Venice and all operations ceased. Besides possessing one of the richest collections of church articles, its altar is without equal in the universe. In striking contrast to these gigantic structures, are the small shops of the Venetian merchant. What treasures are within their walls! Here I found beautiful Mosaic pieces: there, colored glass moulded into all kinds of shapes, and everywhere. I came upon exquisite, web-like, Venetian lace. One could spend hours wandering through this entrancing maze of shops, looking at the novelties they offer to the casual and curious shopper. Every visitor marvels at the mellow moonlight in Venice, and well he may. for there is nothing on earth so bewitching. You forget the far-off world, that hard, old world with its miseries and misfortunes, and think onl} of love, romance and happiness. In the evening, when the pale moon rises above the horizon, dim lights flicker everywhere, from the moving gondolas to the corner of some quiet courtyard. The lapping of water on the marble palaces does not disturb but rather adds to the tranquility of the night. As one muses on the beauties of the Queen of the Adriatic, there gradually steals across the waters of the Grand Canal the strains of some sweet Italian soul;. Enraptured, I boarded a gondola and was taken to the scene of this melodious music. As I glided nearer, the music increased in volume and the singers raised their voices in heavenly harmony. Many gondolas were clustered around a gaily lighted barge crowded with these Venetian song-birds. Their refrains floated softly on the breeze and each listener held his breath for fear of interrupting the accents so full of tenderness and love. What heart, no matter how cold or hard, would not melt at the sound of such ethereal music? Those whose locks shone silver in the moonlight recalled their past romance and happiness, while youths dreamed and planned for the future. When the moon had finished its course over this phantom- like city, the carefree life once more awoke. The sun. as it rose, cast its bewitching rays on the tinted waters of this beautiful Queen of the Sea. My stav in this charming citv was ended and 1 had to bid. as Cesare Morandi did. To Venice: A Farewell. Venice, farewell, your evening tints arc shed, Soft crimson shadows at this hour you lay I pon each palace now that gleameth red Ere lovelier eve give place to lovely day The lender dawn, the golden moon, soft night, Will ever stay a vision o] delight. No mare an quiet lagoon, by dreamy isle. Shall my gondola there in silence glide; Xo more shall I behold you sadly smile When loveliest tints are gathered an vour tide. The colour, light, t. ' ie dreamy dip of oar .Ire tenderest memories far evermore. HE LEX WEIDEN, ' 26. - 4 1 8 f -

Page 26 text:

is a bitter one. They are always trying to get the upper hand and to obtain an unfair advantage. I don ' t like this kind of door. There is another kind of door that is more unpleasant than the revolving door. Think how grim the cold snap of an iron bar door must sound to the criminal. That door stands between him and freedom. Liberty is on the other side of it. How hopeless is the sound of the lock ! The first click of this dour must awaken fear in a criminal ' s heart, no matter how callous he may be. There are many other kinds of doors that we have not considered. A stage door always has a particular significance, even though most of them are made of some cheap wood covered with green baize. They are very commonplace to the passerby, but, to the excited and enthusiastic matinee fans, they seem to be the entrance to a land of romance, a glorified fairy- land. There is a strange glamor about them that is entirely absent from the long, narrow, stately bronze doors that grace some of our dignified public buildings. The latter may be more magnificent, but every fan will find them much less interesting than the dingy, ugly, old stage door. We have by no means exhausted the kinds of doors that exist in our universe. Many of them are famed in song and story. Others have peculiar associations, bitter and sweet, for each one of us. A plain, simple, white door excites thoughts of home and of the love awaiting us there. There is a throb of pity for the gaping window and door. for they offer mute testimony of the house with nobody in it. We have man} ' , many doors with varied purposes. All contain possibilities. Adventure, danger, excite- ment may lurk behind a closed door. A door led Alice to Wonderland — after she had found the magic key. A door may open before us and show us fame. Who knows? And, in that very thrill of uncertainty lies the chief pleasure that doors afford. MARY STACK. ' 27. -4 20 $ -