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Page 31 text:
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CREATIVE CAMPUS Wesleys Wesley wheeled slowly around on the swivel chair and faced the priest, who stood at the great glass window, gazing out over the city. Wesley’s desire to become a writer was great and the man at the window was aware of it. The priest cleared his throat and after a deliberate silence said, “Your environment is no excuse. Your determina¬ tion to become successful as a writer should help you to overcome your obstacles; but re¬ member, success only follows hard work.” Wesley, with new determination written in his eyes, thanked the priest and quitted the house. He walked quickly towards the shoe shop three blocks down the street. The shop was located among other dirty little shops and houses. Wesley lived in the slum area and knew no other life, but he had read many books and he realized that there was a more satisfying way-of life. When he arrived at the door of the shop he paused momentarily and then entered. His resolve to act pleasantly towards his father lagged moment¬ arily as the repulsive smell of hot leather and oil greeted him. How could anyone bear this at¬ mosphere and yet remain blind to the futility of the scanty work carried on by his father here? Behind that counter, his father was bent over a piece of leather work, studying it intently. Wesley studied the countenance of the one who was unaware of his presence. It wore the expres¬ sion of one who had given up hope; and more than that, become bitter against life itself. Wesley stood there for a moment, looking at his father silently. Then he spoke almost sharply. “I have decided to go to that school after all. I will leave tomorrow.” The father’s head jerked up with surprise and the blank look in his eyes was pathetic. It re¬ vealed that he could not comprehend his son’s statement. Eventually that look changed to pain and then to reproach. His shoulders sagged as he thought of their many useless arguments. It was almost hopeless. However, there was in- Ambition tensity in his voice as he said, “You can never be a succes in that way. It will ruin you, Edu¬ cation will not bring you money.” “Father, money is not the success I want,” the boy began desperately and then his voice fell as he realized the futility of making his father see. He clenched his fists tightly and began again. “I am useless this way. I will never be content to sew shoes as you can be day after day. I see these people trudge to work every day, ignorant of any joy or happiness which exists.” The father’s one argument came again. “There is no such happiness. Education does not bring us the support we need; nor does our work. Then do not waste your time and your hard earned money at that great stone building.” “I want only to find that satisfaction in life which comes with being useful. I will try to do that by teaching these people here.” He swept his arm towards the open door and pointed out to the street. As the father shook his head hopelessly, Wesley turned abruptly and walked out towards their apartment. Both rooms were scantily furnished and a rather gloomy atmosphere pervaded the place. In Wesley’s room was only a bed, a bare wooden table and a stool in one corner. Upon the bed lay a few books and his gaze immediately fell on these. Mechanically, he lit a candle and then sat down on the bed and fingered one book absentmindedly. His father had always had much faith in him. It had been his hope that Wesley would somed , succeed him in the shoeshop. For his sake only had his father continued in his occupat 5 ' such a long time. Now it was rather of Wesley to disregard all of his fa , ui. sacrifices. But then he again though iis an bitions. When he was a boy V- ood for hours and gazed at that mas structure in the distance. There he had imagined were the pro- continued on nt page) 29
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Page 32 text:
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fessors who could speak of great things in a familiar way and he would have daily contact with great scholars. Even the building held out its proud stature and seemed to challenge ac¬ complishment. Immediately Wesley arose, packed his books and a few of his belongings and slipped out into the dusk to learn from the priest. The great clock at the comer struck ten and his mind turned expectantly towards the future which lay before him. Tomorrow he would be sitting in a classroom in that great building which he had always looked upon with awe as a child. —Dora Toews. Mommy’s Coming Back My head ached and I felt funny all over because my Mommy was lying so still on the floor and Terry’s Mommy and Aunt Sally were all here and they were talking in quiet voices. I wondered what they were all doing here be¬ cause we only get visitors on Sundays and this was Thursday. My Daddy was kneeling beside my mommy and his throat made sort of a funny sound and his great big shoulders were shaking. I think my daddy was crying, but daddy never cries. He is big and strong. A big black car came onto our yard. A man in a black suit came in. My daddy only wears his good suit on Sun¬ days when he and mommy and Gerry and I go to church. Then I knew that he wanted to take my mommy away. “Daddy, Daddy, please don’t let him take my Mommy, please Daddy, don’t let him.” But daddy only made a low gurgling sound like my little brother Gerry does and held me so tight I hurt. Maybe the man will only take my mother, away and make her better and then she will come home again. Gerry was very sleepy because mommy always put him to bed after supper but the siren had gone already. I didn’t want to, but my daddy made me go to bed. Ii vvas very dark in my room and my eyes hurt and sometimes I was very cold and then I felt sc hot. Daddy came to tuck me in just like he and mommy always did but he didn’t mess up my hair like he always did. I think he was trying to tell me something but I couldn’t hear the words and I wanted to hold my daddy because I was scared but my body couldn’t maVe. Finally I heard the words “Mommy” and “dead.” My head ached so much and I wanted to cry, “No! No!,” my Mommy’s coming back. The man’s just going to make her better.” —Marlene Epp Clothes Reveal Character “Pink makes the boys wink.” This is a statement I heard my little niece say when her mother donned a pink sweater and it started me thinking. Wearing pink clothes may not make the boys wink but clothes certainly reflect the character of the person wearing them. When I thought about this I remembered an aunt of mine who always wears black suits and white blouses. Never will she wear a red blouse or a green scarf to change the monotony. This is exactly the way her whole life goes. She has set ways for everything. She has been driving the same black coupe ever since I can remember, she wears her hair the same way, and she always wears the same rims for her glasses. She has been a school teacher for I don’t k now how long and I’m certain she teaches each new class the same old stuff the same old way. To her anything new is evil. And then I thought of a friend I had who was the exact opposite. He wears nothing but raCe-track plaids, gaudy reds and flashy yellows. This is reflected in his character. He makes snap decisions and Is always willing to try new things. He drives a white Cadillac with all the extras. He roams around the country working a few months and then driving on. I dare say he is not the most reliable friend to have, but his life is certainly more exciting than my aunt’s. Another person whose personality is reflected in his dress is my father’s old friend. He is a lawyer and he dresses most conservatively. He is the mean between my aunt and my young friend. He dresses in such a way as to make him look dignified and cultured. He is a very cultured person, a sincere patron of the arts and has taste in selecting good music, literature and company—all in all a very repectable kind of person. Lastly, I was reminded of the little country maiden who was going to work in the city. She tried to act very sophisticated and dress very sophisticated. The latter was obvious: printed skirt, nylon blouse, socks and earrings never went together very well. She was trying to look her best but she failed so miserably. I guess it’s only human nature to pretend to be something one isn’t. The Way people dress does definitely reveal their characters, but it is wisest not to base one’s analysis of another’s character entirely on his clothes. —Rose Peters
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