Annie Wright School - Shield Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

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THG SHIELD US)3© o LITERARY CONTRIBUTIONS WANDERLUST I stood on the pier and watched them go by, Ships sailing for Java, Suez, Shanghai; Some were for England, others for France, Some just returned from the Isle s of Romance. And I stood on the pier and thought of the day When I might be sailing to Japan or Bombay. There was one that was battered and tired and worn; She was a freighter from far-off Melbourne; A passenger liner, proud queen of the seas, Pointed her bow toward the Dutch Celebes. And I watched them all leave with a lump in my throat, For I longed to sail on some far-destined boat. ELEANOR GODFREY, 1938. HEAT The day was hot. The sultry sun beat into the valley, scorching, penetrating. Low-hanging dust penetrated the landscape and shrouded the distant hills in yellow haze. The sandy road stretched straight through the valley. Along its edge grew low underbrush, weighted down with dust. There were no trees. There was no shade. Nothing was shielded from the furious sun which burned and burned everything. The man with the heavy pack wondered if there was any green left in the dust- laden ferns. The thin little dog wondered, too, but doubted it. The man struck the ferns with his heavy stick. More dust rose, revealing dull brown fronds. The man tried to grin; the dog tried to wag his tail. Both failed. Then — a distant nimble. The man looked up. Far to the south black clouds rose over the hills and swiftly approached. The little dog, motion- less, except for a slight quivering of his nose, stared. Rain, breathed the man. A sense of uneasiness, of awakening, filled the valley. Higher and faster climbed the clouds. The sun faded. A drop of rain. The rumble of thun- der, much nearer. The valley was suddenly filled with a profound tenseness. Everything was wait- ing, silent, motionless. Crash! — a streak of white cut the sky! Walls of rain were blown wildly by the screaming wind! The sky was a tangled mass of grey, lighted only by the flares which slashed through the atmo- sphere. But the man with the little dog huddled be- tween his legs stood erect and looked into the sky; and as the rain cut the dust caked on his cheeks, he smiled. VIRGINIA CROWE, L95 THE MOUNTAIN Wild winds have whipped my jagged peaks, With angry howls have broken sleep; The weeping clouds have kissed my cheeks Where rivers plunged to canyons deep. Mad lightning s lash and thunder ' s crash Have rocked my throne for ages gone; My crumbling sides the tempest s dash Has scored for nature ' s battles won. mary McMillan, 1939. A DIFFERENT afternoon I have a very special trail over which I walk only on stormy days. It leads around a narrow piece of land jutting out into the ocean for a mile. It is low, flat, and sand covered, except here and there where a few wisps of grass have braved through the hard-packed surface. The sand rolls in mounds; when I stand on the top of them the wind seems to blow me along. At the tip where the waves come rolling in and the wind blows the spray about, I like to stand and gaze. There is nothing to look at save the great grey breakers that come furiously dashing in, crashing upon the shore, and the wind that stretches the grass taut against the ground. It is not a beautiful walk I would never think of taking it on a sunny day. But just as soon as I feel a storm brewing I take down my rain slicker and out I go to spend a different afternoon. MARY FILBERG, 193 MORNING Drowning out die sea gulls ' scream comes the thundering tide, flinging its salty spray high upon the wind-swept beach. White lines of surf crash to their doom, raging over hidden rocks, then slipping back silently, leaving behind their foamy breath and the echoing calls in distant caves. The pale gray mists which veil the sea slowly rise and melt as the sun ' s early rays filter through. The flying birds cut dark patterns against a blue sky scattered here and there with wind-blown billows. Thousands of glistening pools left by the reced- ing tide throw back images of light as the sun rises higher and higher to a brilliant summer ' s day. VALERIE WALKINSHAW, 19 9.

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1B3© TH6 SHIGLD STUDENT COUNCIL Standing: Joan Latimer, Constance Franekum, Li la Sullivan, Beverley Old, Margaret Keys, Barbara Ohniek. Second row: Marjorie Beam. Frances Sanburn, Jane Ringling. First row: Joan Hopkins, Frances Young, Lois Parker, president, Ann Huston. Marv Filberg, Catherine CowcIL OFFICERS OF THE ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION Constance Franekum, president Margaret McGinnis Virginia Humbird

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THG SHI6LD v O GIFTS FROM AN UNKNOWN BACHELOR Seven years ago I received a book from an unknown gentleman! On Christmas morning, nineteen thirty-one, I excitedly opened a mys- terious package. It was The Oregon Trail, by Francis Parkman. My excitement fell to the ground with a thud. It was the book that the High School girls groaned about. Many a time I had heard them say what a dry book it was, and I was in only the fourth grade! On the fly- leaf in a precise hand was the inscription: ' To Jean with my very best wishes for a happy Christ- mas, from J. L. Hooper. The next year at Christ- mas I received another book called The Book oj the Flower Fairies. This book, more suited to my age, was a charming book of poetry beautifully illustrated. The following year I received Vanity Fair, by Thackeray. The book was not moved from the bookshelf until three years later. Every year since then this gentleman has sent me a book at Christmas. Nineteen thirty-six brought me A Little B udget of Home Stones. This was a small book with thick pages, enormous print, and short, choppy sentences which reminded me of one of my first readers. Last Christmas came a tiny book called A Flower Fairy Alphabet. I remember an alphabet book that I knew by heart at the age of five. I have always remembered the verse that went with the letter Z. Z ' is for Zebra Who has all the stripes. But as this book has to do with flowers it says: Z is for Zinnia, pink or red; See them in the flower-bed, ( pper, orange, all agl» v. Making such a stately show. All these gifts have been sent to mc by a bachelor whom my father met on one of his many business trips, and whom I have never seen. This year after writing my usual thank-you note, not more than two weeks later I received a letter from him. He sent me a picture of his dog and informed me that he was going back to England and planned to stop in Tacoma on his way East. We expect him next week, and won t he be sur- prised when he sees that I ' m not six any more! JEAN WEBSTER, 1940. THE FIRST DIVE You sit on the edge of the pool and look down at the water. All the time you are muttering to yourself, will. I will. Then you stop and shudder as you notice the depth. You imagine yourself under water struggling to come up, and shudder again. But now you ' re set, head down, hands to- gether, and a deep breath. One, two, three — no, not this time, next time. But next time is al- ready that dreadful this time. You can ' t believe it. It isn ' t true. You ' re actually losing your bal- ance. Then comes the awful moment just before you hit the water. When you come out dripping with water, you surmise that it was not so bad after all. GEORGIANA WIEBENSON, Eighth Grade. NIGHT The sky was like a dark blue sieve Turned upside down, and the stars Were peeping through like small, silver suns Covering the Earth with a dim light. DAY The sun like a big yellow ball Shone down on the green meadow And polished the hills in the distance, Till they gleamed like piles of gold. JOAN LATIMER, Eighth Grade. THE PEACEFUL OUTDOORS The waters were smooth and tranquil. The sea gulls flew noiselessly about. A dog lay drows- ing on the beach. The mountains stood out across the water, and the sun was going down behind them. A sailboat was anchored to an old, pic- turesque dock. Not a sound could be heard for even the flies were asleep. MARTHA BINNS, Sixth Grade. A PLAIN DONKEY I am just a plain donkey that happened to see the birth of Christ. Don ' t you think I was very lucky? I will tell you the whole story. One night it all happened. I was in my stall almost asleep, when a man and a woman came into the barn. They looked around. Just then I fell asleep. I was very foolish to do that. I was awakened by a crying sound. I opened my eyes very quickly and I saw in my manger a beautiful Baby. I felt kind of funny, because I was not used to having a baby in my manger. By that time all the ani- mals of the barn were awakened and they were crowding around my manger. I had the best view of the pretty Baby. Soon our master came in and kneeled and bowed his head. I looked up at the ceiling and I saw some angels. Then I looked outside and I saw a big star shining above the barn in the sky. BILLIE JEAN RUST, Fifth Grade.