Anna Head School - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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One day ruins ringing. Wfilb truth A sense of duty to your youthful beauty makes you cold-cream your hands until they are uncomfortably greasy, and makes you dab a little on your nose, with an ever-faithful hope that it will banish a pimple, some freckles, or the like. fYou always awaken, of course, with that identical blemish, if not another one besidesj. , Once comfortably settled on your pillows, your aspect towards going to bed is very different, for you immediately get drowsy and begin to dream of the pleasant things in the past or future. CONSTANCE WOOLSEY, '3 1. 1 Y oria Pincknzy: avigator That our class records may properly chronicle the unique accomplishments of one of our co-sufferers in the process of education, we sought the classic atmosphere of Toria Pinckney's study. Strange to relate, however, it being the holiday season, we found her in the late afternoon hours surrounded by books, maps, charts . . . working not with the compass, but with Christmas evidences of truly girlish character. This temporary diversion, however, did not interfere with her usual cheery responses, but it was soon made apparent that no satisfactory comments concerning her nautical achievements would be forth- coming. Other sources than our heroine herself had to be consulted to obtain the needed material with which to record her experiences. Tory has logged about thirty-five thousand miles of ocean traveling in the summers of nineteen twenty-eight and nine, and has retained her own log books. She has done her trick at the helm down among the beautiful islands of the South Sea, and has tried her hand at seamanship in the ports of North Greenland and New Guinea. V In the Samoan Islands she stopped at Pago Pago, an island among this rou that is onl twent -four miles around, with its reat mountain called Rainmaker, looming over the isle and villages, so picturesque, set in great masses of tropical growth that is picturesque until the dust is seen, and with its one cook-house and community bath. Apia, where Robert Louis Stevenson is buried, is on the summit of Yaca Mountain, beautiful harbors, long stretches of white beaches, livid with tropical 17

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A Jong of memory deep in fait heart Cn Going to Bed OW jane, don't be the next half hour getting to bed! The mere sentence, old and often repeated, several times in one evening in fact, sends an apprehensive chill up and down my back. just a minute! is a vague but excellent reply, because it shows that I am busy, wastes a little time, and does not sound unmannerly. After several more remonstrances you really must get up from your chair. This is merely to avoid causing irritationj Then, several more minutes can easily be wasted between standing in front of the heater to warm your feet, Qwhich are not really coldj getting a glass of water, and arranging your books for the next day. Things begin to get a little tense after that, you can't fool around much longer. After long experience you can arrange the intervals quite successfully. So now it is necessary to walk laggingly over to the door and open it a little. Mother, did I tell you about that dress at the last formal? It was longer in the back than mine is. Mother perks up her ears and remarks knowingly, but Chanel's latest model is very much like yoursf' There is no stumping mother! A short, fthey are always shortj rather strained argument follows. Mother is rather on edge, torn between desire to get me to bed and to satisfy her interest in the latest fashions. A subject like this one can't last forever, it is bound to go to an endf' Mother grits her teeth. !'Will you go to bed. I'm going! is the reply, . . . another safe one. After applying the much hated tooth-brush, and trimming of fingernails to suit father's particular idea of lovely nails, Qyou can easily imagine what that isj you return to the warm sitting room. You certainly were in there long enough. I wasn't at all, I certainly wouldn't stay any longer than I had to, I guess! After a little more foot-warming and another glass of water, and several prolonged good-nights, you mosey over to the other door, and lay your hand on the knob. Sometimes you can get away with another short argument, again you can t. It seems as though the steepest steps to climb are those on the way to bed. I usually take them at a running leap because I am very imaginative and often fool myself into believing that there is something behind me. Once safely in my room, my one desire is to get to bed and read before Mother arrives Qas she inevitably does just as I begin to be interested in a storyj to snap off my light. 16

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He wrote it. S 0 you ffm!! 566 ur here growth, great waves breaking up on the sands from which much too often huge sharks' fins cut the white foam. On the island of Suva, among the Fijis is a large field across from the only hotel in Suva, on which landed the remarkable plane . . . Southern Cross. Here also are magnificent orchids that grow wild and profusely. Tulage is the government seat of the Solomon Isles. It is only seven miles around but a very beautiful seven miles! Here Toria played tennis with the governor. 'l'oria's navigator's rating was awarded her at the conclusion of a four months' cruise in the South Seas, last October. She left on this trip last June rated only as supercargo. On the ship's return on her record appeared the entry, Toria Pinkney-Fourth Officer! And so we salute you, Fourth Officer Pinckney, one of the world's youngest girl navigators! BETTY HOLLEY. '5O. To A Collection Poems that lie here before me, Among which I pick and choose, Do you hope you'll come up to the standard? Or do you pray that youlll lose? Do you wish me to quickly reject you, And pass you by with a look? Do you think youzll be free forever If you're not enclosed in a book? Or do you hope that Illl keep you, Until during some dreary night I pick up my book and run through it And come upon you in delight? And find in you all that I hoped for, And learn what I knew from the start, That some clay your beauty must move you From your place in the book to my heart. V VADNA RICH, '30. 18