Anna Maria College - Pax Yearbook (Paxton, MA)

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Health obsessed people Do thirty push-ups nightly, Smoke two packs daily. J. Paradis, '63 It seems unfortunate that when a sunset fades its spirit cannot linger on Insert punch-card lives, past Change' Umniscient robot matches- M- J- Habef'-9U'0h, '67 Sacrament of love? J. Sullivan, '63 Could there but be a way of knowing What man might walk upon my dust someday, It would be easier then to death To give myself away. And could I but know, how in due time, A child upon my stone might climb I do not think that I would fear The eternal years of lying here. 'Tis not the coldness, nor the silence of the grave, But only from aloneness that Could I would myself to save. Living is but knowledge of another, well or slight, The nearness of a fellow man in darkness as in light. So could I would my bones would rest Below a city street, or perhaps within a lane Where lovers often meet. But always and forever 'neath the paths of human feet. L. M. Butcher, '69

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THE WORD THE SHALLOW WATER Empty And alone So alone, you wish you weren t Anymore. The warmth, the rest are everywhere And they are there too But they don't care that The water is quiet and pale So, I turn-to the current Away from the shore And stroke with the cold deep stream Because I am a swimmer L Cormier 68 TRINKETS . . . You may think you can pick me up and drop me to the ground like a child tired of his toys . . . but youall find it's not that way, not that way at all . . . once you have shattered my jewels and torn my dress of dreams you'll see . . . a plaything I'm not. The river is the journey of life and the rocks within are people worn smooth by experience .... A mellow wafer hung in black obscurity and I could hardly believe that I sitting on an orange crate in a dusty alley could be viewing the same wonder as a businessman in his suite in the cen- tral park apartments . . . while doors slammed, babies cried, shades flew up and garbage cans rattled. I sat serenely drinking the moonlight. M. H andlin, ,68

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ALFIE AND THE EXISTENTIALISTS Sound like a musical group? Yes. The song that Alfie and the Existentialists sing runs along these lines: There once was a musician who only knew one note, and the poor musician could not recognize the symphony. Poor, poor musician. This is our symphony. Each note is every happening that has come our way. Anna Maria has given us the pattern, the knowledge of the use of our notes over and over again in chords, in arpeggios, in minor keys or major keys, this enables us to enjoy our participation in the entire symphony. What we have learned is to see things in the universal pattern of history. Our studies are but a repetition of so many others, our thoughts have been thought before, and our loves and hates are but recurring themes. Of course, since we are individuals in a unique time and place, our notes vary in their arrangement. We may be a part of a chord or a trill, or be a sharp or a flat. Nevertheless, we each are but one note of a symphony. This is a very valuable thing to know, now, whenever we encounter a new note Qliterally, a person, thought, or actionj, we donit enjoy it just for its singular sound, but we enjoy it in its composition. We donit simply hate our one war, we regard it as an often repeated happening, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and very diflicult to judge. We can estimate what will happen, because weive heard the passage many times before. We have been taught the symphony, we have been minutely aware of each new passage. Our consciousness has been created. We are aware of everything, of precedents and their implications. Because we spend one-third of our lives sleeping, we believe it is a good idea to be at least fairly conscious dur- ing the other two-thirds. This is the worth of an education-to make us more real, to let us touch each event and thought because of our newly learned aware- ness of them in their universal places. But, to return to Alfie and the Existentialists . . . Alfie has chosen the there is no meaning to my actionsv theme and, thus, drifts aimlessly. We must agree that he has the right to decide that no value is the best value. But we are unique, singular, free, not part of the disorganized crowd. Yes, we may choose our own note, but-too bad for Alfie-we are born to play in the symphony. Our note, once chosen, has to be played in context. The existentialist may be intro- ducing a fairly novel passage, but it is, after all, only a passage. Hopefully, Alfie rebels only against the given key of his note, not against the fact that his note must be played. Alfie questions: What,s it all about? Why this symphonyfw Some answer F or Godf' some For manf' It is the same choice, and the symphony will be played despite Alfie. If he wishes to be a part of the lasting whole rather than a random note, he must take up his instrument and learn not only his part, but its relation to the entire symphony.