Birmingham High School - Piper Yearbook (Birmingham, MI)

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Gonversalion Kirk Martin '36 Wherever people are gathered--conversation will certainly be present.Every- one oonverses,from the neighborhood pest who buttonholes you on your way home to inform you of his latest golfing achievements to the feminine diplomats of the afternoon bridge club, where the important question of how Mrs. Haughty New Cas- tle will wear her hair this fall is tossed from tongue to tongue. ' At any social gathering one invariably comes upon conversation. when the planned program of the evening is interrupted or finished, someone is bound to bring up the weather. This is a very conventional opener, since there must be weather, be it good,bad, or just ln between. Mr. Jones will now tell his exper- ience at sea in a tidal wave,and after being duly discussedxin its past,present, and future stages,the weather will be put away on the conversational shelf until the need for its presence is felt once more. Unfortunately this will leave many a poor soul with a particularly juicy contribution on his or her tongue, and a cheated feeling in his or her breast. This state of distress soon passes, however, as the half opened mouth, the faintly wild glitter in the eyes, and the contorted facial features--all denoting readiness for instant action signify. The human breakfast is always a subject sure to find a 1ng's conversation. The gentleman know that a cup of black coffee and to be exact--suffice as his regular place in the even- on your left feels that all present should a slice or two of well toasted toast--burned morning repast.The fat woman across the room absolutely abhors grapefruitg but since it is on her diet, she supposes she will have to endure the abominable variety of the citrus family for a few weeks, at least. The timid creature with the goatee enjoys ham and eggs, he informs the rest, while the auditor, Mr.Figger, likes his eggs boiled just three minutes, no more and no less. Pancakes and oatmeal are favorites with many, and will always find a warm defender. Polit1cs,the unemployment situation, the bridge tournament,the quintuplets, and the latest---and longest---books will each take a turn at bat. the conversational Then suddenly all will be silent. The information at hand is exhausted, and the very existence of the conversation is threatened. The experienced host will recognise this fact, and if resourceful, will immediately bring up a new topic. The camel furnishes ideal subject matter for just this occasion. The camel is--as are whales and submarines--one of those topics about which everyone knows and about which no one knows anything definite. Try it some spark of interest glint in the eyes of those assembled. The shyly states that she somewhere read that a camel's humps beest's instinctive habit of sleeping on its back. The man on time. Notice the small blond woman are formed by the her right politely but firmly assures her this is wrong.'The humps,' he insists magnlf1cently,N are an outgrowth of the mother camel's method of carrying her young.9 A voice from the depths of an easy chair scornfully condemns the statement made by the bald headed man that camels can go for sixteen days without water. Meanwhile,the aud- itor ls musing to himself in a very loud voice on whether it is figs or dried prunes with which he associates the camel, or is it a dromedary of which he is thinking? f continued on page 65 I ll

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was something inexorably cruel about that face now as I looked at it, and I was about to speak when I heard a sound behind me. I half turned. Loo Yin stood there,more lovely than ever- She seemed like a character from some old print, with her skin like old ivory and her costume of lavender satin. But I perceived something more. She seemed surprised to see me. In her eyes were mirrored fear and horror. In a moment she had recovered and walking swiftly to us, she emptied the contents of both our teacups into the teapot almost before I noticed and taking it in her hands, dashed it against the wall. Fascinated, I watched the amber liquid spread in an ever-widening stain on the silken-covered wall. ' I instinctively turned my eyes to Loo Chung's face. Surely he would say something, offer some explanation? Loo Yin had crouched,sobbing, before the mo- tionless figure of her father who sat as ever, staring straight ahead. A cruel, little smile seemed to play about his lips, but perhaps it was my imagination. Loo Yin raised her lovely head and turned her tear-stained face toward me. Those eyes sought my face as if searching for something she could not find, for I am afraid she saw only bewilderment. Though she wept helplessly,it seemed to me that there was no remorse in her cries--only fear and despair. She kept murmuring over and over, 'I have killed him, oh, I have killed him!n She had repeated it many times before I seemed to grasp its full significance and was aroused into action. No wonder that he had not spoken! I listened fearfully at Loo Chung's chest. Yes, there was There was no doubt about itg the old man was dead and had been since he had first sipped the tea. Poison, and quick working too. Loo Yin was still sobbing, but I pleaded with her to tell me was hard to describe my feelings. I felt a strange sadness,for Loo my friend5nevertheless,my sentiments were not entirely against Loo it is as condemning a sin to kill one's own parent as in any other somehow I felt that the girl was justified. how I did not know. The girl was incoherent in her grief. Until sometime later, I no heartbeat. dead probably her story. It Chung hadbeen Yin. In China country, but was unable to piece together her story as she told it to me. From what I gathered, however, this was what had happened: - 1 Loo Yin at birth had been betrothed, as is the custom in China,to a wealthy Chinese boy,the scion of one of the oldest families in Peking.It was Loo Chung's wish that by their marriage they would unite the two housesgmuch as he loved his daughter, he did not intend to be defeated in his purpose. But Loo Yin had been sent to America to be educated and having prevailed and the her And ing upon her father to let her stay longer than he wished, grew to love independence of the Western world.She told me that only then did narrowness and backwardness of her life as it would be if she marriage and consequent self-effacement as the wife of a Chinese she had fallen in love,desperately,with a young Chinese student, in America and also as unwilling to return to his own land. They wished to the freedom she realize returned to gentleman. also study- marry secretly, but Loo Yin felt that it was her duty to go to her father and appeal to him first. She knew he would doubtless never be reconciled to the fact that she had married against his wishes, but she thought that he would not be so C continued on page 64 J 10

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I ' 3 6 61174: East :Pylon Jack Long 35 The National Air Races are held yearly in various parts of the country and attract many of the great names in aviation. I have had the good fortune to view several of these air classics. After seeing the Air Races, one wonders how anyone can become excited while watching a few horses bounce around a dirt oval at about thirty miles an hour. The races present every type of plane known. Size ranges from the hugh Boe- ing Transport to the tiny Heath Bullet. On arriving at the show we see a dark red monoplane-going through its qual- ifying dashes for the main race of the afternoon. It is thrilling to watch him as he screams down from the heavens at some two hundred and fifty miles per hourg yet if we could foretell the future,we would never allow him to enter that race. The race stunt men are shown here in all their glory. One flyer-purposely drops a wheel while in the air and after stunting comes in for a landing onthe one remaining wheel. He does it so beautifully that as far as we of the specta- tors knovg two wheels are unnecessary to a good safe landing. The Army and Navy flyers are Hdoing their stuff.H Close wing formations, three planes tied together at the wing tips execute perfect loops and after the act land with those connecting cords still intact. One visiting English stunt man has a saddle on the outside of the fuselage of his plane. From this saddle he flys the plane with the nonchalance and ease that might be displayed by one of his more conservative brothers on a fox hunt. Parachute jumpers? They take up three planes and dump twenty jumpers out into space at once. nHeads up, folk, you can't take 'em home to the kiddies.n But all is not so amusing. A high wind is blowing. The jumpers are trying to hit the field by slipping their 'chutes. In doing this they drop with increased rapidity, and no one laughs for speaks until that 'ohute blossoms out into a billowing cloth of safety. A rain storm hits us, and it's everybody under the stands until the rain storm is over. Here I discover that there is nothing so conducive to sociability as a good rain. Here, for once, the rich are usoakedn just as much as I am. Af- ter a few more events the field is cleared for the main race, this being the fa- mous Thomson Trophy Classic. - There are eight well groomed entrants. Six of them are of the inverted in- line engine type. The other two are Wedell williams Racers,powered by radial en- gines. One is flown by Roscoe Turnerg the other is piloted by Doug Davis of At- lanta, Georgia. Davis is the one who was going through his qualifying dashes as we came in. All eight leave the line and climb into starting position. The race is on. f continued on page 56 D 12