Bay Ridge High School - Maroon and White Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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HDear Diary, I was tapped todayel' runs the next note in your journal of remembrances. Arista. Golden candles and breathless silence Girls looking upward with shining eyes . . . to the highest goal . . . Cleaving to the ideals of Character, Scholarship, and Service. Ideals that will mold their lives forever after. Term Seven came along and bumped into you. You suddenly realized that you were seniorsewell, practically. You had a grade paper of your own: iiHi-Lites, edited so efficiently by Geraldine Natoli. Life was a busy affair, teeming with interest. You were told you could have no Seven-Eight party . , . again because of Htime and space conditions. There was no place for you to rehearse. What of that? you asked independently. You were more sure now, more poised. You looked around and found the Gas Company where genial Mr. Van Buskirk presidedeand rehearsals began. It was the first Seven-Eight party ever held outside of the school. You were proud of that showeHBoss Meets Gir1 eand of the fine spirit of the grade in presenting it. You hadn't known that Dorothy Bloom, Audrey Hoag, Alice Pearsall and Grace Kelly were such troupers. Ann Hardie at the piano created the real ttBroadway musical atmosphere. Mary Lutfy sang in a manner reminiscent of Frances Langford . . . The senior grade applauded you . . . G. 0. elections took place and you made posters and campaign speechesedespite the rulese-and you went to bed to pray that the senior grade would get in. Grace Kelly was elected Secretary of the G. O. and Thomasina Findlay, Treasurerefor which you let out three rip-roaring cheers. And then, you were a senior. And most of the fun of being a Senior was Senior Day. How you roared at Doris Bash in her red flannels, Bea Thien in her Nineties bathing costume, and Anne Crutchley as a Country plumber trying to make good in the city. You frolicked and thought: This is my last fling. Tomorrow I'll have to buckle down to Economics. You had responsibilities . . . You wanted to graduate high in your class. Q, the nice, unforgetable things you began to notice about your class- mates now that you were near leaving them. Pat Conrad's lovely, thrilling voice . . . Marian Mullen's lovely personality . . . Margaret Lund's ability and willingness . . . Dagmar Hubinette and Miriam Fabian, whom you began to class with the geniuses . . . Midge Bixby's warmth and loveliness . . . Mildred Edlich's all-around perfection . . . The Senior Prom. You went sophisticated in black with orchids and had the grandest time imaginable. You thought Miss Sullivan the most beautiful person imaginable . . . and Mrs. Miller the most gracious and poised . . . And as the days went oneso quickly-you walked more slowly in the halls and held everything closer to you. You began to realize that they were almost goneethe joyful hours. It was but yesterday that you entered One hundred-four

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we later discovered was about fifty cents too much. We arrived back in London at eight o'clock in the evening. What a day! We felt more at home in the city, however, than in any other place, although we nearly went crazy figuring out which of the millions of buses to take where. But it's such a relief to have people speak English again. We were in luck the first day, because there was a celebration of the King's birthday. The Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth and the two little princesses drove down the Mall in an open carriage. George and his brothers, the Dukes of Kent and Gloucester followed on horseback. It was a broiling hot day, but still, droves of people turned out to see their royalty pass. We tried to take movies of the procession, but a woman's head kept getting in the way, so we wouldn't be surprised if our photography showed the body of a horse with the head of that woman. Right now we're in Scotland, but we haven't seen enough of it to tell you any of the details. But we do know that it's plenty cold, and can't imagine how those Scots keep warm in their plaid kilties. We are planning to sail on the Berengaria on the 26th, so we'll see you soon. Remember us to all the girls. Love, HELEN and NORMA. . Continued from Page 66l Your interests widened and you learned the meaning of versatility . . . there were so many things you could do. The grade athletes like Iean Carlson and the Van Wynen twins were crowing over a baseball game in which they were Victorious over the seniors! That made you feel that maybe you weren't so unimportant after all. You took journalism and decided you wouldn't be a writer despite Childhood ambitions to that effect . . . You were a little afraid of Mr. Serota and two totally new words . . . llconcrete and Hspecitic . . . The dramatic clubs and the Choral Club called you. You found that acting made you gain in poise and that singing was a lot of fun under Miss Williamson's baton. Then part time came along like a dark cloud on the horizon. The rumour hit you that grade parties would have to be eliminated. You were indignant. Miss Sullivan was indignant. You held a meeting and decided that, by fair means or foul, you'd have your grade parties. And have them you did. People in your grade were doing things and being noticed. Wanda Wisniewski was reelected Grade President. Peggy Gillespie was the up- and-coming Managing Editor of the llRidge Echo. Thomasina Findlay was running for a G. 0. office. Anne Crutchley was taking laurels for her beauty and charm, while Shirley Johnston was helping Peggy out with the HEcho. One hundred-three

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this door, a shy and eager youngster. Now you draw back your shoulders and hold your heads high. It will be hard, leaving . . . So many memories of happy moments . . . of little triumphs and failures that only llspurred the sides of your content. You have another life ahead, separate from that which you have had in Bay Ridge and yet an intrinsic part of it. Will you remember? lContinued from Page 61D HLook at that cute sharpy or llWhat do you think of that Apollo? or llWasn't that mink coat gorgeous? or Hlsnit she pretty! This goes on until it grows a little too cold for comfort, or more probably, until your high-heelecl shoes begin to pinch. But up to this point, it really is fun-this strolling on Shore Road of a Sunday afternoon. Continued from Page 68i their way over the walls of the confining box, Sister suddenly decided that they were getting too much attention, or rather, that she was not getting enough. So, after much hunting around, she decided that in back of the bathtub was an ideal place for hiding them away from our eager hands. However, she did not know how to carry them in her mouth, so, after several unsuccessful attempts, she stopped trying. Now she just sat and looked at us as we fondled the kittens, her eyes, which were always expressive, smouldering with unconcealed jealousy. . By the time they were about six weeks old, they had the run of the house. They climbed up the furniture and slid down, only to land on their noses. We had also successfully, we hoped, house broken them. All of which brings me to the point I was at in the beginning of my story. They had all learned to climb furniture, and found that their nails were very use- ful in accomplishing this feat. They were now ready to graduate to another phase of perpendicular climbing, one of which could also be helped along by the use of their nails: that of climbing legs. It didn't matter to them whether it was my silk stockings, my sister's bare legs, or my father's trousers; legs they wanted to climb, and legs they climbed. However, al- most invariably they chose my silk stockings. Those little clears didn't care that my silk stockings must be bought with my rapidly diminishing allow- anceeoh no! that only made it all the more fun. However, when I spoke of either giving the kittens away, or sending for the A. S. P. C. A., Mother sided with the rest of the family in the decision to keep them just a little while longer. About a week later, Mother received a telegram saying that her Aunt, Who was very dear to her, was ill, and was not expected to live. Mother packed immediately, and boarded the train for Kansas. This left me the Hchief cook and bottle washer, all of which I appreciated not in the least. The prospect of cooking for four, with two grown cats, and four still in the process of growing under toot, plus my school homework, was not appealing. However, the family survived my attempts at cooking, and bravely tried not to see the perfectly obvious unmade beds and unwashed dishes. One hundred-tive