Abington High School - Oracle Yearbook (Abington, PA)

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If this is your town and your home, Can It Happen Again. nh' i 5 N3 Q The snow swirls gently to the ground as the small grey donkey picks its way along the paved walk. The man and woman accompanying it seem picturesque and quaint in contrast with the tall buildings and bridges of an industrial city. Here and there a late shopper, hurrying home to his warm, well-lighted home, casts an inquiring glance toward the three snow- sprinkled figures. Often, along the way, the tired pilgrim makes his way to a house and knocks on the door to beg shelter for his wife and beast. But unfortunately man has not changed in the past two thousand years, and the travelers are turned away- still lonely, still quiet. Within the houses, the people are like- wise quiet and seem to have lost their fes- tive spirit. They turn to look at one anoth- er, seeking to rectify what they have done. They seem to have lost all interest in the trees decked with gaudy trimmings and bowed to the floor with a load of gifts. Tt is almost as though they have forgotten why they are gathered. No one begins an old carol to be joined by others as has been the custom for many years. And out in the dark night the trio moves quietly, almost ominously, on through the dim streets. Far down in the crowded nar- row alleys, where homes which can afford no children are crowded with shabby, piti- ful children--so easily pleased by some meager present, the three halt and are ap- proached by two of these l1!lf0I'tllIl8,t6S. The boy, sunken of cheek, thin of frame, clutches his sister 's bony hand, and both peer inquisitively into the faces of the two strangers. Seeing that they shiver from the cold and their faces are drawn and tired, the children draw the strangers into a wretched tenement, whose creaky steps seem to ereak a little less under the stran- gers' footsteps than under those accus- tomed to tread there. Even the burro stands quietly content inside the door while the children rub the snow and water out of his soft coat and feed him bread crust from their meager store. As the strangers warm themselves by V .pl I 'S A LORRAINE BATES, '51 .Z

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Rickert and Nan DiValerio kept their pupils busily at Work on a futuristic mural depicting the arrival of a busload of merry Abington students. The artists were constantly annoyed by Don Rieco, who stood ostentatiously on his head in an attempt to figure out the designs. At three p. ni. the exhausted Abing- tonians were only too glad to go home for a Well deserved rest. The faculty roared with laughter as the busloads of students hurriedly left the school With no thought of extra-curricular activities that day. The teachers felt positive that their ipupils would be amazingly quiet and co- operative after suffering through one day of reversed positions. JEANNE SARGENT, '51 . Q' 12- llili nl' r BUD GOODWIN, '51 Radio- Activity From morn 'til night what do I hear But CQ ten ringing in my ear? My brother's a radio ham , you see, So raclio's not strange to me. He talks to friends both near and far, With a rig at home and one in the car. Our olinner's ready, but Dick's not yetg It's six, and time to enter the net H e'll rush upstairs at five of eight For a chat with Bobg he oan't be late! Then off to Mobile Club he goesg Just when he 'll be home--nobody knows. By twelve o'clock he 's back-but then What do we hear but code again! The same routine from day to day, H e 's 'fradio-active I would say! Our Little. War I wandered today on a battlefield, Where lately a victor stood. He watched his enemy driven back, And he laughed and cheered when he could. The field is littered with blood and mud, And rations are strewn on the ground. The turf is torn and beaten down 5 The grass is dirty and browned. Papers and trash confuse my way 5 The goal no longer in sight. It was smashed into pieces-souvenirs To remember the day of the fight. For the papers are programs and pennants 900: . The rations-hot dogs and pop. The blood is ketchup spilled in haste When the enemy wouldn't stop. For the battle took place on a football field, But the glory is still the same As our high school cheered on that after- noon When we won our toughest game. PATRICIA WELLS, '51 A Gay Goodbye A shower of gold and red and brown Came flying, flitting, fluttering down. It looked like a host of butterflies Drifting down from the autumn skies. 'Twas really a band of bright colored leaves Saying goodbye to their family trees. MARIAN Mou., '52 WILLIAM LAPP, '52

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the tiny stove and partake of the humble food, they smile once more, and as they smile, the shadow seems to lift from the entire towng once again friend greets friend and the warm, glorious carols ring out across the now moonlit snow. The fes- tive trees, drooping before under the fore- boding silence, stretch their scented green- ness toward the very roofs of the city. The people throw off their lethargy to re- plenish the yuletide fires, which have sunk 14644314716-4-6040! A silvery carol rings On the wy air of night, Perhaps an angel sings A song of his delight. A. willing song of gladness Melodiously swells, Annihilating sadfness In hearts where sorrow dwells. The music on the frosty air Awakes the qwiet morn, And joyous carols everywhere Proelaim that Christ is born. BARBARA FLOWER, '51 THELMA KALEN, '51 N WIC...- N1 ill to hardly glowing embers. I But though the homes are once more bright and cheerful, and the spirit of glad- ness once more reigns supreme-one and then another of the people shudders as though feeling some deathly, far-off chill. They will a long time remember when the shadows of their own greed and self-satis faction almost smothered the fires of Christmas. CAROLYN CLARK, '51 rqcloaanuu '7a, ehaidc Three wise men of old followed a star- And found a King. They knelt and adored Himg Gold, franhincense, and myrrh Were their offering. H e was an infant, But they saw His divinity 5 The stable was rough and unclean, But they saw His beauty. Mary bore- Him to the world That crucified Him. The heavens proclaimed His holy birth While J oseph, a humble man, Poured music from his heart. Christ the King was born. NANCY KERR, '51 M p . , , i y F 0 Q fp -V iq X . b 1, y FA E Vi ayl' Q V. j l mmf! -A