Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA)

 - Class of 1922

Page 34 of 68

 

Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA) online yearbook collection, 1922 Edition, Page 34 of 68
Page 34 of 68



Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA) online yearbook collection, 1922 Edition, Page 33
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Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA) online yearbook collection, 1922 Edition, Page 35
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Page 34 text:

Page 32 THE CHIPMUNK for 1922 multitude of little peoples. Here and there a small animal scampered to his late hed. One by one the stars came out and winked mernly down upon the still earth. The moon rose and hung in the dark sky—a crescent-shaped lantern, illuminating the earth with a soft, silvery light. In the moonlight, the distant peaks stood out in black relief standing like huge sentinels, guarding the sleeping. R. G.. 23. THE RED SUNBONNET What could be more humiliating to a girl of thirteen years, than to he forced to wear a red sunbonnet to church on Sunday, while all the other girls of the village came trooping forth in lovely creations of lace and ribbon? Such was my case, and I sat meek and small in the large family pew next to my Aunt Elizabeth. My aunt termed the modem hats indecent and indurable, and I firmly believe that it was against the latter point that she held her greatest grudge. Several small boys sat back of me, who were continually pulling my bonnet strings and calling me a red geranium, much to my mortification. Church being over, we all assembled in our respective classes for Sunday School. Our teacher was a young woman with a sweet smile and a pleasing manner, and as I sat down she flashed me one of her rare smiles, that instantly made me forget the former unplcasantries of the day. She came over to me and began to talk, when she glanced at my sunbonnet. I half expected to see a sardonic smile, instead she said, "I like your bonnet—it is becoming and looks sensible. It is rarely that we see such sweet old-fashioned girls.” Since that day no ridicule has ever affected me. R. G.. ’23. THE VALLEY OP THE ATOKI The Valley of the Atoki. softly veiled with the rosy haze of morning, at noon baring its vast extent to the summer’s trial of the fiery sun—at night reached by the balm of the hill winds, dreams under the starlight or high noon. In the dewy twilight the daughters of Cibola grind their corn and sing the grinding song of the sunrise hour, and the praying men with their medicine bowls utter sacred words to the great god of Poscyemo. Madly the young men rush about playing their strange game of endurance. Suddenly the praying men cease their murmunngs. and call to the people in a loud and awe inspiring voice. The tumult and confusion die away, and the inhabitants hurry to their homes. The night descends, and all is quiet. R. G.. ’23. VULCAN Power given to you of old To make your marvelous things of gold. Spears to clash a shield a-sunder. Swords to put a brave man under. Graven images on them made. Of Perseus with his trusty blade. Of Neptune with his wondrous steeds. Of Syrinx changed to tuft of reeds. Of Juno with her peacocks vain. Of Zeus omnipotent god of rain. Your power is great, but one is greater Power of Eros; hearts’ golden mater. M. F.. 25. MICKEY'S CAME It was yell practice, just a week before the game. Mickey slid into his seat with a scowl on his face. He wasn’t going to yell. How could he help his smallness? He didn't want to be short. He could play as well as Slats, even if he was short. Well, they'd see. maybe they’d want him before the

Page 33 text:

THE CHIPMUNK lor 1922 Page 31 SPRING FEVER Were you ever in High School during April and May when you just feel like setting a match to the school house, and then laughing with real enjoyment at seeing t burn? Well, if such is not the case perhaps you ve just felt like doing nothing but gaze dreamily about at the awakening of the world. 'Iliis ailment which comes to anyone attending school, goes by the name of “spring fever” among some and among others of higher minds “pure laziness.” A sure sign of this disease is when the male sex start puttering with their "Elizabeths” even though there isn’t the ghost of a chance to enjoy them. And but a little later you might even see one of these well known “Fords” rattling down the sidewalk like so many cans. 1 he girls in spite of their grown-up feeling take to jumping rope and other childish games of their infancy. rhen, oh! those teachers! Are they naturally cruel or don’t they realize the crimes which they are committing when they laden the poor students’ weakening backs with ex’s, themes, debates and other what nots so dear to their hearts. If there is a cure for this fatal malady, the students of the High School would be most grateful for information concerning the same. A. I.. 73. DAVID COPPERFIELD JACKSON It is a dark and stormy night. In the “colored” section of a certain Southern town are many “Monte Carlos,” gambling places for the convenience of the colored people who have inclinations for gambling. David Copperfield Jackson, a young negro, has been in this town almost a morth. and has been enough at the various Monte Carlos so that the people have some respect for him. This particular dark and stormy night David Copperfield Jackson entered the “gambling joint” of a certain fat. sleek, wealthy negro, whose name is George Washington Lincoln. Our hero goes up to the proprietor, and demands that “c’n he see Mistah Linc’un fo’ a minnit, all private-like.” Mr. Lincoln then shows Mr. Jackson into a back room, where he has his office. "Now, Mistah Jackson, what do you want?” "Mistah Linc’un, suh. las’ night ah had a dream. Ah dremt that ah fell off a high bridge, and a big fish he grab me by the laig. an he just pulled me under the water. Just as ah was about to get drowned, ah waked up. Ah then looked in a dream book, and it said that ah would be extrem’ly lucky in all mah gamblin’.” Mr. Lincoln, who was as superstitious as he was fat. then said: “Will ten dolla’s entice yo’ to leave mah establishment?” Ten minutes later Mr. Jackson entered the "Monte Carlo” of W. Wilson Taft. Five minutes later he emerged with fifteen dollars and a broad smile. He then proceeded to the "Monte Carlos" of Julius Caesar Booth. Jame3 Monroe Doctrine, T. Roosevelt Daniels. P. T. Bamum Longfellow. E. Poe Jones and Daniel Webster Calhoun, and emerged from each w.’lh ten or fifteen dollars more than he entered with. He used the same “gag” on each one to get the money. That night he caught the outbound train for parts unknown. S. D.. 74. A WESTERN TWILIGHT The sun was sinking slowly behind the western hills, bathing the little cup-shaped valley in a parting flood of gold. The once white and fleecy clouds were changed to burnished sheets of copper and fire. The hills deepened from blue to purple. At last the sun had set and the long western twilight settled down upon the little valley, high in the Rocky Mountains. A coyote’s sharp yap broke the calm, while the birds twittered sleepily in the trees. A large, white owl flapped its way lazily across the meadow in search of some un- fortunate rodent. The gentle evening breeze whispered through the little forest at the edge of the meadow, rustling the leaves and crooning a soft lullaby to nature’s



Page 35 text:

THE CHIPMUNK for 1922 Page 33 game was over. They wouldn't let him play at first; he wouldn’t play at all. He was still brooding over his woes, when the yell practice broke up. He started home, with a book under his arm. both hands crammed deep into his pockets, and his cap pulled down over his eyes. When he had gone about half way. his chum. Slats, caught up with him. "Got any money up on the game. Mick?" asked Slats in a joking tone. "Nope." Slats looked at Mickey in surprise. Mickey never spoke shortly, he always gushed on for an hour when spoken to. After several more attempts at conversation to which he had received no response, he walked on and left Mickey to his reflections. It was the night of the game. Mickey debated for a long time whether to go or stay home. But he finally concluded, that as long as the game was to decide which school should have the cup. he would put his disappointment aside and go. He walked in behind a crowd of jovial boys and took a seat toward the back of the room. During the first few minutes of the game, excitement ran high—yell for yell was exchanged—banners from both sides waved furiously—but Mickey watched none of this. He kept his mind on the players. Why did they make such wild shots? Oh. why did they drop the ball so often? What was the matter with Slats? He could do absolutely nothing. Such thoughts chased through his mind one after another until he was so excited he could hardly keep from rushing out on the floor. By the time the first half was more than half over he could see Slats was "all in." They removed him. Oh. if only Jack would play better than Slats had done. By this time he had entirely forgotten his vow. that he would not play if they asked him. His one desire was to get out on the floor. He would show them that he could play even if he was small. He would. Oh. what had happened to Jack? He had hurt his foot. What would they do now? The next he knew he was out on the floor. He tried to stop but some wild impulse pushed him on. As the captain turned and saw Mickey, the look of anxiety on his face turned to a look of partial relief. "Oh! Mickey! You’re the boy I want. Get into a suit quick and come back here. We’re beaten now but can’t quit.” Mickey moved in a trance. He could not tell how he changed and got back to the hall. Before he realized what had happened, he was standing on the floor and the whistle had blown. He saw the ball dimly as if he were in a trance and stretched out his hands. But the moment the ball was in his hands, he awoke to the realization of what he was doing and played as he had never played before. He forgot his smallness and spent his time in dodging the larger players. What were they shouting for? Had he really thrown a goal? Before he had time to ponder on this question, he was playing again. The rest of the team took heart when they saw how Mickey put his soul into his playing. The score was gradually climbing up to the opponent’s score. But Mickey paid no attention to the score, he only knew that he must make good. He heard the whistle and a confused uproar and one question was foremost in his mind. Had they won? In a moment, he felt himself being lifted to the shoulders of some of the tallest boys, and cries of "Mickey! — Mickey!—Rah—Rah—Mickey!” rang in his ears as they carried him from the floor . It was at the supper given to the opposing team after the game. Mickey was still so dazed he could not eat. He was sitting at the end of the table, but he did not pay much attention to what his captain was saying, until he heard his own name mentioned. He sat up with a jerk in time to hear him say. "And as Mickey won the cup for us. let’s all give him three cheers." The heartiness of those cheers was still ringing in his ears, when he slipped into dreamland that night. R. L. ’24.

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