Buffalo Seminary - Seminaria Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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UiMlNf'L1?,IA L9 ff? W Failure PRIZE POEM I clutched at moss and scraped at stone to climb An ancient wall. The fragrant smoking pine Seeped through the moldy cracks to lure My frantic footfsteps on. A gentle whir Of robin's wings enticed my eager soul. My grasping hands now felt the harsh rock smoothed With spicy grass, like beaver's fur, dewfcooled Atop the wall. Soon every woodsy cone And fat brown mushroom would be mine. The beat Of fairy drums made me forget my goal. These elhn throbbing notes swelled clouds and stars With siren's song. Upward I stretched my arms To catch their brilliance. Falling to earth, I Poured forth my painful words against the sky Which set the silver bell of dreams aftoll. RUTH Fowuza, '42 fr lf MF W 53 ' - X 2 P N A5 ' . , XXX Q sxrfxa xl tix V 3 J V X I 'A 1 N I gag

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Z0 SEMINARIA 1942 Pomieshchik gave it to my mother. In the old country the samovar is-how you say-- she paused. A symbol? gently prompted Miss Snow. Marusza nodded. In brass, in copper, in those things are made the samovar. But not one in my village was so. She gently traced the intricate silver design inlaid in the brass. Samovars are so- her hands described straight sides. No one but mine is so- her worn palms passed caressingly over the urnfshaped sides of her treasure. A tear trickled down her cheek and she sighed. But that is in the old country. Here the samovar is no thing--not any. Here no one need samovar. No one use charcoal-tum on stove. So I think to give my samovar to Kati-but she laugh. Marusza shrugged her shoulders and smiled apologetically at the woman across the desk. So, Miss Snowfdear, it is my thing. My Casimir's son Alex, he is in the army camp. My son Dimitri, he works hard and his daughter Anna, she works hard too. But me-I do nothing. I want to do! Sol say 'Marusza, you take the samovar to Khazyalka and she will get money from the man and you can pay for bond !' Unnerstan'? But you are giving your family to our country. You need not sell your most valuable possession. What is this 'most valuable possession'? Miss Snow explained and Marusza shook her head. She stood looking thought' fully at the exquisitely wrought, old, brass samovar, polished and gleaming- a perfect museum treasure the man had said. But she didn't see the samovar-she saw the bearded face of her husband, Ivan Peteroff, and heard his voice just as it was when he left her alone in a strange land. I leave us, Marusza, you and our children. But there is no need to fret. We have had a good life and here in America you are safe. There is food and warmth for all, there is opportunity to learn, and work for our children and theirs-and for each man his soul's own God. Ivan was gone. Now the samovar must go-the Russian samovar that would buy an American bond, a bond to keep the safety, the warmth and plenty, the opportunity-and God, Marusza shook her head again-this time definitely and firmly. My samovar is not-my most valuable possession, Khazyalka. I sell my samovar! GLOSSARY Vonmmv--water-sprite IcoN-a holy picture BA'roosKA-father, priest Pomnzsi-icnnc-land owner, lord Brsitms-a party KHAZYALKA-lady, mistress LETT-a state of old Russia MARY'LOU Hovicms '42

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L-bgrgrfgggg gg - SQMINARIA 1942 Till it Bn Murrow UPPEKSCHOOL STORY' There was a screeching and grinding of brakes, then a shrill warning whistle, and a small figure in a short aqua tweed coat and high white boots jumped back to the curb. Say, listen here, little girl! a young surly policeman barked. Janie looked up at him guiltily and smiled. Janie's smile wasn't an ordinary one. Something special and wonderful happened to her mischievous bluefgreen eyes, and her rosy mouth curled appealingly. The street lamp changed the raindrops on her long flying golden hair to diamond dust. The policeman gulped his half' finished rebuke and just looked at her. As the stopflight changed, and Janie ran through the bustling crowd to the other side of the street, she called back to him with a laugh, 'Tm not a little girl, though, I'm nineteen l But the policeman had probably discovered that for himself. i Janie was in a hurry. Someone very particular was among the hundreds of soldiers coming on the fiveffifteen Empire, and she just couldn't be late. Never in any of the crucial moments of her life had she been known to be on time. But then, Tim wouldn't expect her until at least ten minutes after he had told her to be there. Tim knew her too well. Why, she couldn't' think of anything in her whole nineteen years that she hadn't shared with him in some way or other. He -lived next door, and they had grown up together as brother and sister, only' alittle more inseparable. lt was funny, but he had alwaysppreferred her as a steady play' mate towany of the little boys of the neighborhood. She guessed it was because they were so much alike, both so impetuous, hotftempered, and irresponsible. lt seemed that they always thought of the same thing at the same time. They would go into spasms of laughter over some mysterious joke, leaving all. theirfother friends completely puzzled and annoyed, and later a little disgusted. , The other. little boys never thought Tim was queer for playing with' a girl, never called him sissy, or tortured him the way they did Stinky Lewis for weeks after he chose Penny Miles for dropfthefhandkerchief. lt was probably because Tim was stronger than Stinky. He always protected Janie from all the nasty little boys of the neighborhood when they wanted to squirt her with the hose in the summer time, or deluge her with snowfballs in the winter. She remembered one time he had told them in no uncertain tones to stop using her as a target, and she had walked by them with head high. Suddenly she had felt a heavy thud on her