Albany High School - Thronateeska Yearbook (Albany, GA)

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The Thronateeska, 1Q2I A View from the Summit After three long years of unflagging zeal since matriculating at our beloved High School, we were ushered into the sacred portals of that classroom indicated by the magic word, “Senior.” Joy filled our hearts. We had attained at last the chief aspiration of all under classmen. Although the rugged pathway from the Valley of Freshman to the lofty heights of Senior was one requiring the su’-e footedness of the Alpine climbers and the dogged endurance of the sons of old Erin, with seemingly insurmountable barriers constantly before us. we traversed it safelv and arrived on time. September the fifteenth, nineteen hundred and twenty. But here we find that our troubles are only begun, and instead of seeking rest from our arduous uphill climb, we must be constantly on the alert, lest the weak-hearted grow dizzy by the rare altitude, make a misstep, and plunge into the dark abyss called failure. The thought creates fear in the hearts of the strong, and yet it has a certain alluring fascination for the weak, in the knowledge that once having taken the fatal plunge, all care, work and worry will soon be forgotten. Like veterans, we have come through as a unit, bravely meeting and vanquishing every impediment to our progress. In so doing we feel that the word “Senior carries with it a deeper meaning than the mere proud consciousness of victory, that it is the crowning glory of work well done. As we come forward on the night of Commencement to receive our diplomas, with our confidence unshaken and our spirits undaunted. triumphantlv we resolve to go always onward even to the topmost pinnacles of fame. Long live the memory of the Class of Twenty-one. —KATHRYN PATE. Page Twenty-nine

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The Thronateeskdy 1Q2J EVELYN Hl’IE “She is just the quiet kind whose nature never varies.” Evelyn joined us in our Junior year and very soon acquired a particular fondness for the A. H. S. Although she lives farther away than any other Senior, she is the first to arrive in the morninp and seems loath to leave in the afternoon. We don’t blame you, Evelyn, the old A. H. S. is worthy of your adoption and affection. MARY LEILA DAVIS “A quiet, shy, unobtrusive little maiden.” Mary Leila still calls Cobb home, but she. too, in her Junior year decided to eive her heart and her hand to the Albany Hiph School. She steadily pursues the successive tasks of each day, and is a splendid example of the maxim. “They think most, who say least.” Once having known her, you are a more fortunate person than you were before. Page Twenty-right

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The Thronateeska, IQ2I Thronateeska By Jlj)uise Hudson On the banks of Kinchafoonee In the swamps of Koolewahee In the days of Long Forgotten Hid secluded from explorers, Lived the Creek tribe Chehitawwa, Brave and unafraid In battle. Here they lived in sole possession, For no pale-face ere had isited That peculiar sombre people. T On the grass before his wigwam In his many-colored blanket, Sometimes in the summer twilight Ere tl»® shining sun had vanished, Sat the old chief Cheehemawween Dreaming of his days of sorrow, Of the battles he had fought in, Of the days of lost endeavor; And his blackest thoughts of vengeance, Like the waters that he gazed on, Held within the snags of violence Deep, concealed within his bosom. But to him would come at sunset, Romping, rosy from the forest, Taking from him all his worries, Gaily glowing from her running, His near-worshipped, witching daughter. She was not like Indian maidens, With her eyes blue as the heavens, And her silken golden tresses Shining in the dying sunlight; Slim and agile as a young roe Tall and straight as is the Pine tree, With a face so fair in color, That the purest water-lily Blushed at finding her superior. And her laugh was like a bird’s song Lilting in the newborn morning. Making hearts that heard it joyful, Bringing smiles to tired faces; And her soft voice crooning often To the crying small papooses, Soothed the aching of the weary mother’s heart. She would listen with excitement To the tales of bygone battles, And her eyes grow wide with wonder At the daring of the braves. So she lived among her people. Friend of all and willing helper, Half a child and half a woman, Thronateeska—the belov’ed. Ebon shades had darkly curtained Earth’s broad golden light resplendent, Clothed her with an inky blanket Robe with silver stars bestudded. Drowsy chirppings of the crickets. Sleepy fiutterings of the birdlings Broke the universal stillness Of the sleep-engirdled Nature; And the weird flames fiery flickerings Threw their ruby sparklings upward Mongst the gruesome sha les of darkness, Lighting up the gloomy shadows. Round the campfire smoking silent, Sat the braves with sombre faces, Swathed in gaily-colored blankets, Crowned with brilliant tinted feathers; And the souaws were sitting near them. Feet akimbo on the verdure. Sewing bits of skin and feathers Working always for their masters. Suddenly the old chief started, Lost was his accustomed courage, Shook and shivered as with palsy. While the others stared in wonder. Thinking only of his madness. Then another brave looked upward, Seemed to see the selfsame spectre, And his heart grew cold within him At the sight that he beheld there. Eyes were turned in that direction, To the Pine tree toward the southward, Where a pale-faced man was fainting, Weary with fatigue and hunger. Fearing lest the Evil Spirit, Punish, should they shun the stranger, He was clothed and fed and warmed, But was feared from the beginning. Speaking in strange, unknowr accents Wearing clothes of queer designing,— Thus he awed the Indian People. Learning gradually their language, Soon he told them of his comrades, Lost from him within the forest; How he wandered searching vainly All alone and quite forsaken, In the wild unbroken forest; How he found their cheering campfire, When near dead with cold and hunger. Spring had ripened into summer, Autumn brought the golden harvest, Winter’s icy breath came chilling All the trees and birds and flowers. Page Thirty