Black Hills State University - Eoicha Yearbook (Spearfish, SD)

Page 27 text:

He wears a white face and presents a small outline against the diminishing light. His faithful dog leaps to avoid flailing arms and legs. An anger- laden voice slices the air. I Time has passed and he finds a way to partially control his temper. And what is this? Soft melody of a girls voice. But it is repressed by authoritative and persuasive adult voices almost before it begins. They expound on the importance of education and its precedence over all else. He is persuaded. The soft small voice falls on deaf ears. I School is over and he has a fling at life. He soars through the air in dreams of becoming a man among men in Air Force Blue. These thoughts are shattered with abruptness. The sand obscures those who utter harsh commands that faintly reach the intended quarry. A brief departure, followed by an intense dedication to learning all within his grasp. The authoritative voices are not now heard, but their effect is deeply ingrained. Life moves slowly but smoothly for three years. I He is ready to try again. But where? What better place than an institution of higher learning? Insistent voices again. Two more years speed swiftly, and he emerges to a position in a large West Coast company. Now. NOW! I There are desks as far as eye can go, and they are separated by portable partitions. Then other buildings With similar desks and partitions. The partitions close in and then evaporate. The once ' fast. crowded desks lose human counterparts one by one. a few He has foreseen the approaching day. Seldom is a m a t penny wasted and never on a soft voice. I The books lying, are back again. But there is only hollow laughter ways in his voice. He finds one day to his surprise that here. ' there is no tear in his eye for anyone or anything. ering He searches and finds a soft voice. But the hollow have unfeeling laugh and the soft promising voice van- take ish, no matter how slyly covered. I The suddenness e old with which the dry eye is revealed causes him to .tions reel. What has happened to him? Has be become like ones one of those vague impersonal figures in the build- ival. ing of shrinking partitions and desks? I Where to eling turn? How to bring the tear back to his eye? He r me , turns to one thing he can depend upon; the books he u and carries. Perhaps if he can become involved, he can 5 not transfer the emotional call of the writings to his ome. eye. There! Is that the gleam of a tear? -cted . .. a 3 her, til. ,; lity. g i . ent ' a .. -nce. ' .- any. :3 . time ,, orch, a -' way ' .33.! . m i There IS a fear, w : heir , - die . :52; It wets the face, I ere UCh o h sing there IS ope ion. she ilitlfyl' Terrance Copeland a . :me. ning all. Dick Termes. wood block ow ere iss.

Page 26 text:

The loving presence Darlene Fritz Life is moving too fast. Past events are fading. With only a few fond memories remaining, happiness is like a rare gem - very seldom encountered. I cannot go on living, knowing that I am neither wanted nor needed. I always dreaded the thought of old age when I was young. Now it is here. Now I am faced with the problem of living and lingering from day to day. Sadly, too, I realize that I do not have a purpose for living. Why am I permitted to do so? Why take the young from the arena of life and leave the old to go on living for no apparent reason? So many questions run through my mind as I sit alone. My loved ones come home at the end of day. I eagerly await their arrival. .But in my heart I feel they do not return this feeling . 7 . of anticipation. I The lady they have hired to care for me 5? . . cannot hide her feelings of tolerance and indifference toward me either. I know that she does not care for the job but it supplements her income. BUt then, how can one blame her? She should not be expected to have any feelings for what she sees. To her, I am an old, withered, and wasted being with personahtY- Can anyone have much personality with only partial movement and SPEECh? She naturally has a tendency to question my intelligence. After 311, I do not have many ways of displaying that I have ?DY- f , DlngSt may be built upon this alone. I Now is the time or the children to come home. I can hear their footsteps on the porch, them laughter, and the noise of books and coats being put away and .thljown on chairs. They enter the living room where I SH and 5111 30m m with a greeting of ttHi, Grandma? then go to their . chores and amusements. I God let me dle so I W111 no longer inconvenience the ones I love so very muCh- I She is gone! Every day we just knew she would be sitting there by the Window as she did for so many days. So mllC t a . . of the time people put off expresslng . as their feelings until its too late. We were no exceptlon' Although she could not communicate with VVOrdS,-S.he had more expression and ability to converse with her eyes than an the language spoken during a lifetime- Happiness was her most outstanding expression. It seemed to affect us all. We were happy when she was. We realize nOW that this was not enough I Her main purpose 11636 Was her loving presence, which we now so deeply 111135-

Page 28 text:

MILDRED Mc The car threaded its way skill- fully through the heavy traffic. The man sitting in the back seat stared out at the dreary, rain- soaked City. Under a brooding sky the Capitol buildings loomed dark and ominous; and as the driver swung in sharply at the great gate, the man had a feeling of foreboding. A guard held out his hand for credentials. His eyes, beneath their bushy brows. carefully scrutinized the papers. Finally satisfied, he waved the car on through the gate. In the car, the man raised his head slightly as they swung up the curved drive. His tired eyes swept the imposing building be- fore him. It had been a long time, but there it stood - the same as before. Its whiteness undimin- ished: its stately pillars stood as proudly as ever. He alighted under the shelter of the enor- mous p o r t i c o and hesitated slightly before starting to ascend the wide steps. No. nothing had changed in these past fifteen years - nothing had Changed e nothing. but everything!