Buxton School - Yearbook (Williamstown, MA)

Text from Pages 1 - 40 of the 1952 volume:

umm Qmum M52 Talilliamstown, Massachusetts It is to Ellen Geer Sangster, who believes so much in the values which she finds in all people ancl has the understanding to make them realize these values in themselves, that we dedicate this yearbook. ,Harry qae.rl1'0n.r are razlred abou! Progre.r.r1'c'e Educaiion. 1V e in lhe Senior Claim-feel fha! ilzere zlr no beller way lo find llze an.rwer.r Ilzan lhrouglz 1'l.r Jiudeniw. T l11'.r year by .rlarllng our yearbook wflfz ezlqhl .reparale 1'nlroducl1'on.r expreLnr1'ng an emolion or an experience of eaelz .renfor and by a'e.rcr1'l11'ng llze year in .ruch a way ilzat you will .ree it aw we remember il, we hope lo prewenl a dear ana' J't1fl.1ffllfl.l1g pzelure. pnye foe HE struggle to discover a meaning for existence is perhaps the most acute in the last two years of High School. It suddenly dawns on you that humanity must have some purpose, but it is only those who don't find all their time taken by the mere act of existing who find the inspiration to discover this purpose. Perhaps they who only exist are in a sense freer in their rigid pattern than we who seek ex- planations. In order to simplify the question of existence, I aslc myself, 'Wvhat is the purpose of my existence? In the last two years my primary thought has been to Hnd a general aim for myself and to set a goal. There have been many blind alleys to follow in the labyrinth of imagi- nation, and many so-called ideals and principles had to be trampled down. Now at last I feel I have removed most of the camouflage one builds around oneself for protection and underneath I have found one dream, one desire. Bly goal is to construct this dream into a reality. But to discover these things, variety and time are perhaps the main elements. Variety to accumulate wide interest so as to have choice and time to discover correct channels for ambition. A tree can be pruned in order to strengthen its main arteries, but new twigs will grow and in the course of human life, new thoughts will develop and they too must be pruned so as to let the strong thoughts flourish. It is here at Buxton I have discovered the faculty for pruning the growth of an increasingly active mind. I fear there is just one life and I can waste no time in foolish reverie of those things I might have done. I can only regard existence as a great gift which I can mold into a failure or a success. -Elizabellz Ghulman page .fix 'Their quiet faces stay within my mind, And rise then fall in rhythmic loneliness. For fear beyond their hollow walls was less Than showed outside. I move away to find The comfort known to travellers who wind Their shallow paths in lonely peacelessness. But now upon my path as though to press The space, grows grass on tears and dew combined. This comfort known so doubtful in the night Removes its burden as the day in birth Has flowered. Comfort softens in the light While crystal tears of morning clean the earth, As from the hill of dawn the fog ascends My sorrow from its resting place unbendsf' Thelma Adelman page .reum Above a place and time or thought There lies in veiled obscurity, The greatness of a mind which rallies force ln conquest ot a hope. This binding will detaches from deep seeded ways And reaches through the mist To find still shadowed there a new ideal VVhich when slowly drawn into the light Ascends upon a lite as swelling song. YVhen grasped, this conquest becomes di And secretly through dusk ot' morn There welds an even higher goal st raught XVhich truly proves the spirit in its light. Through melting tears Both joy and sorrow are sublime For, covered by the night, such stillness That it death blooms again too soon, The virtue ot the quiet day will pass And in rest the field will fade with sleep. page ezlqlzl Today creation lives in wild beauty, Undaunted by the melancholy hand of time, WVhich does not wander as the fog, But calls through all the many years To follow silently, and do what it commands. Step gently stranger, the tide is rising high, The sky is raging flame among the blue. And the silhouette of your hand is lmrave Among the many hands, Which are so gaunt against the slay, But strong in true reality Enriching life, it only with a peace That comes within one's self And casts all fear upon the winding wind. Pale is the mind which can not see the other shore, And paler yet the heart which will not follow fantasy But hangs upon the written word And sees the day as it is seen by millions. No, this time is slowly ebbing to the waste And confusion melts, Unclouding from the earth A richer wealth: The greatness ofa mind which rallies force ln conquest of a hope. W- 111115011 Demrau page II ine HKNUYV TIIYSELF: TO TIIINE OYVN SELF BE TRUE. When I first read these words, they meant little to meg just two small phrases in a school catalogue. But it was these few words that helped me so much in the first step toward social and mental security. A whole new concept toward maturity was awakened in me. It took quite a while before I opened my eyes and was finally convinced that I was an essential part of a small community. In fact I realized that everyone was essential. Wle were all individuals, but equally important parts of a composite unit. I began to know the people around me fu- both students and teachers - and through them I was able to evaluate my- self for the first time. It wasn't easy. It took a long time to really believe in myself' 'f to have faith in my convictions and have the courage to stand up for them. Each different phase in my lite at Buxton has taught me something, whether it be a better understanding of human nature or a more complete understanding of myself. I have realized the importance of living with others and being able to get along with them, of making new contacts with different kinds of people, and of making contributions and participating in community living. And the real- ization that other people besides being just teachers and schoolmates could be real friends. Know thyself: To thine own self be true. These words will remain with me forever, symbolic of the environ- ment which awakened me towards myself. H e Ann .llallzewa page len EFURE even arriving at the school I fell in love with the country around Buxton. After living in or around large cities all my life, the wide open country with miles and miles of land delighted me. I had the impression that because Buxton was farther north I would Gnd the weather unbearably cold but, surprisingly enough, the weather was very comfortable. Enough for the surroundings, except that I decided to spend my next four college years in this New England region. Thinking back to my tirst few weeks at Buxton it's hard to believe that I was so ill at ease that the first four or five days I avoided meals as often as possible and all other activities which would bring me in Contact with twenty-seven strange boys and girls. After two weeks I was getting used to my new surroundings and by the end of the third week I felt like one of the fixtures ofthe school with the arrival of a new student. Being a senior and arriving late in the year made it rather essential that I find my way into the school activities as soon as possible. Yvith a little encouragement I started playing with the girls' basket- ball team only a few days after I arrived. I admit I never became a star on the team but I did have loads of fun playing with them. The thing which I think I shall remember most about the basketball games is the long rides in the Buxton army truck. I got quite bumped up, practically frozen to death and nearly asphyxiated by the gas fumes at times but I loved it all. The informality of the school appeals to me, although there is one exception which is the Sunday afternoon teas. Their charm lies in the relaxed and comfortable manner in which we listen to poetry or discuss various topics while sipping tea and munching on cookies. Since my tirst tea I have tried to make it a point not to miss a single one of these delightful sessions. page effvm There are many other activities which l could mention at Buxton that have afforded me much pleasure. Even small and insignificant as they may seem, they all combine to make Buxton what it is ff - not only a four-year college preparatory school Cas one reads in our cataloguej but a healthy atmosphere in which boys and girls can learn many things besides those taught in books, including the ultimate aim to Know thyself. --4 Diane Ifanue l XDOLESCENCE is the time in our lives when dreams thrive. A They spring suddenly from our hearts. VVe are tortured by their impracticability, and we suppress them. In suppressing dreams, we suppress the most delicate, most transi- torv things in life, which, for people of imagination, are the only things worth preserving. Because the other things will take care of themselves. rf ,flaw Lallzrop page Iwelve HERE are many ways to write and many ways to think, but when all this is put into an idea all the dreams come true. I want to express the benefit I got when I came here. First I wondered why my parents wanted to send me to another place, and why I had to learn another language. Why? My parents also asked themselves the same questions. Maybe it is because I am from another country that it seem- ed to me at first stupid and foolish, but now I begin to understand. I left my friends and family and all the things that I had in those days. Now I am beginning to understand other people, the way they think, talk and express themselves. To know more about the rest of our world and about those countries that are far away is an experience to further knowledge. Then to put our ideas together, combine what we know and get the ideas to other people, other countries and other religions, and then without fear help them to be useful to each other. Here I have learned to express myself without fear of any sort. f- U.rcar Romero page fhl.l'ft'6l1 I thought the world was a rotten place And he said, No, it's some ofthe people in it. I turned and saw a little old man Tying up the grape vines for the coming year's wine. He looked at me and said, No, my boy, The world's all beauty, it's the people in it that are bad. He showed me the ground and said 'The green of the grass, so beautiful, All different plants, all difierent sizes, all different shapes, All living together in one great green field. Then he showed me the pebbles 'All differentl' he said Not one alike on God's whole world. But still all together, all happy, all pebbles. I asked him about the trees. 'The trees are old, he said They grow tall and great High and strong and they spread their great limbs to God's great throne And they stay in the same place. They grow old and they send their seeds out over meadows and dales And they die. They were born there and they stayed there and they died there. And I asked him about the people But he said nothing. He tied the grapes, he raked the pebbles and he dwelled in A world of beauty. I thought the world was a rotten place And he said, No, it's some of the people in it. - Wz'llzhm Horwf!! page fourleen WHY lzf il lhal if lhzlr were a ulopzan world, one devoled lo lhe realzka- lion of dreamw, lhe achievemenl of idealw, where parodoxew could exzlrl in harmony fhere would alway.r be lhowe who would find il nece.r.ra1y lo creafe new dreamf and grealer idealm The anwwer 111' hard lo .rupply, lzul lhiw much may be .raidz lhal when all lhinga' are conmidered thim .rlriving loward ullimale perleclion .reemf lhe one bawic human drive more lhan any olher which make.r life meaningful and imporlanl. In a .rmall New England lown amid lhejoolhillw of lhe Berkwhiref lhere lie.f a .rmall Jchool. I i if here in Seplember when lhe leave.r are .falling and the wind if blowing lhal lhe jfnrl car.r drive up a lonewome driveway lo un- load lheir cargo. The Hello'J and lhe Hi'.r and lhe eml1arra,r.ring hugo' and unpleawanl hand.rhake.r lhal alway.r come when one doe.r noi know exaclly wha! lo do, are all parl of lhe finrl meeling and lhe jim! day. Then lhe night wilh lhe long lalk.f about .rummer'.r advenluref and finallyjalling a.rleep in lhe new room wilh lhe new roommale and lhe new life. Here in lhe .rerene almowphere of lhe counlny wilh il.r mounlainlr and wilh il.r woodland a cla.r.r can go up inlo lhe fieldo' and learn. One doe.rn'l learn by a monolonouf voice going on hour afler hour, llul by dilrcumrion. The ,rludenl Ill' nol merely lhal parl of lhe cla.r.r lhal ia' lhe impo.rJ'ible ollfecl of lhe leacher'.r knowledge, bu! zlr emrenlially lhe cla.r.r. By demanding more lhrough curiowily and parlicipalion the leacher mu.fl mold the lime lo lhe inlerewl of lhe cla.r.r, and in .ro doing he work.r loward a goal lhal will be mo.rl benqlicial lo lhe Jludenl. Afler di1rcu.r.rion.r, and lqy piecing lo- gefher bile' of knowledge one come.r up wilh .romelhing worlhwhile and ha.r learned or beller ye! haw la.rled a bil of knowledge, and wanl.r ever .ro much lo know more. dffer all, learning al lhif .rlage lil' no! lhe beginning and ending of all educalion but lhe opening of new inlerewl and lhe dewire lo learn for a long lime lo come. Among lhewe new inlere.rl.r, crealive wriling a.r.fume.r an imporlanl place. AJ lhe following examplew will Jhow, each individual wrile.r abou! wha! he hun.relffeel.r and expre.f.fe.r himlrelf in whalever-form he choo.fe.r. page fifleen SOLITUDE The crying sands of winter's coming, Out on nothing, into nothing, Forging through a spinning world of silence. Quiet sands: a portrait of the lost forgotten earth, And man, who came to leave his step behind. - 11 lzlron Deazfau MAN IAC? HELDON, Ohio, population one thousand, was submerged in a thick coat of fog on that memorable November afternoon. It was way back in the late nineteen twenties when I was still in my teens, but I think I'll remember that old man's face as long as I live. I guess this might be clearer to all of you if I started from the beginning. Around five o'clock on this late fall afternoon was when we first noticed the old man trudging up Main Street. He seemed to have at- tracted most of the town's stray dogs, for there were at least a half dozen of them running along at his heels, yelping and growling. He had a withered look about him, with his long scraggly beard and stooped shoulders. He carried no pack or knapsack like the ordinary tramp but only a crooked stick to lean on. Paying no attention to anyone, he went over to the town bulletin board and pinned up a small piece of paper. Then laughing quietly to himself, he proceeded down the street and disappeared. As soon as he left, a few curious townspeople saunter- ed up to the bulletin board to see what the old man had placed there. After a few seconds a gasp of astonishment was echoed amongst the crowd, for the sign read: AT MIDNIGHT TOMORROW NIGHT, IN YOUR CEMETERY, I WILL RAISE SOMEONE FROM THE DEAD. The startled people scattered around in small groups and excitedly discussed the strange old man and his prophecy. Before the day was over, everyone in our small town had been told about the notice and they all speculated as to what it really meant. Very few people really believed the message, but they were all eager to know what was going to take place in the cemetery at midnight. The next evening, as early as seven o'clock, cars and buggies started arriving at the cemetery. No one had seen anything of the old man since the previous afternoon, but in a small town like ours everything that happens out of the ordinary always causes a lot of excitement. Most of the townspeople, even though they put little faith in the old man's words, spent most of the day wondering what it would be like page .rixleen to see once again their loved-ones and friends who had died. This was about the most exciting thing that had happened to our little town in an awful long time. About eleven forty-five, he arrived looking just the same but with a queer smile on his face. He had no implements or tools but only a small faded leather book. He looked around at the large crowd, and they in turn grew silent and apprehensive as they waited. After a careful study of the graves, he walked over to a small one in a corner which seemed to have had little care or attention for many years. It was the grave of Mary Larson who had died ten years before after fall- ing down her cellar stairs. Her husband, Ben, a sullen and solitary man, had never remarried, but lived by himself with few friends and no relatives. Standing in front of the grave, the old man opened his little book and started to read silently to himself. Ben Larson, who had arrived late, began pushing his way to the front of the crowd to see what was happening. He had been out possum hunting that evening and seeing all the commotion at the cemetery, had come over to investigate. Liv- ing so far out of town, he had heard nothing of the old man, and when the people, in hushed whispers, explained to him what was going on he immediately grew very excited. From time to time, the old man would interrupt his reading to look up at the crowd and seeing Ben he laughed a queer croaking kind of laugh. Then he started making strange signs with his hands as if to call the spirit out of the grave. By this time, the expression on Ben Larson's face had turned from one of astonishment to a look of intense horror and fright. Then the old man turned to the people and raising a hand to silence them he said: Now it is time to . . . Iust then, Ben Larson uttered a horrible scream and grabbing his hunting gun and stumbling toward the old man he fired three shots at him and screamed: I won't have her ghost coming back to haunt me. I didn't mean to push her. I won't let her come back. Then grabbing up his gun again, he fired the fourth shell into his own head, and fell over on top of his wife's grave. The old man, who had died instantly, lay over to the side with the same strange smile on his face. The next day there was a clipping on the town bulletin board from the state capitol's daily newspaper, reading: Maniac escapes from state asylum. He is about seventy years old and believes he has supernatural powers. - Hnn Jlalheww page .revenlcen FOG With satanic robes it seeks to veil the earth Gliding, sliding, Clinging, seeping life, color, into its vastness. A horn is sounded like the cry of a child lost in oblivion. But its density suffocates all sound. Beneath it water can only breathe gently, Hills must fade before it, Scent must bury itself within it. But sun may permeate, dissolve it, Until fog becomes mere wisps And life springs upward outward And laughs again. -Elizabeth Shulman Slipping away, away beyond the roofs of the hills, slipping through the trees, through the earth, and through all those intricacies that should serve to hold it, preserve it. The air becomes cold as it slips further away and again those very things, like the trees and the earth, begin to reflect the widened absence. The basis of progression and achievement now act as reflectors and destroyers where before, as though an inverted mountain were the scope and all views were focused outwardly, now the view is narrowed and the line of sight is surrounded and directed. Whereas before acceptance of reality was so natural that it became secondary to the intangible, now each object must have a logical ex- planation, and those divine things that are beyond explanation seem so often to fade. 4 - Thelma ddelman page cighlcen There is a pasture, And in this pasture graze the wants, the desires, And the hopes of all men. The pasture is large g and has no wall, no gate, no line, no race, But has a sign . . . Associate! That is the rub, For when we choose to use that word We've drawn the line and cut the herd. . . m - Wlllza Horwill THE CROSS The sod, the ash, the mound, The long and level lines stretching, Stretching along the infinite path, and the steps Leaving just a single mark behind, Down one, down two, down one, Down, down, down, gone. Mark the place, Unearth the flowers else they wilt, Replant the grass And hope it rains. When the night grows cold Or the dust rises from the naked ground, With the wind a husky beggar at its side Sweeping away the only impression left, Run to your mothers. Make your homes and reap your fields, Teach your children your ethics, And tomorrow they will be the dust That with the wind sent you home today. Remember creation, And do not look over the hill to the level Where death has banished life, Else the cross, your cross, White, white, unstained by the blood That flows on other shores, Decay your heart too soon. f Alzlron De.r.rau page n inelecn ,F - . .. In lhejall, our ,rporl.r lime iw devoled lo Joccer. Everyone parfzczpalef and our aflernoomr are eifher .fpenl in praclzcing or playing game: wilh olher nearby .rchool,r. W e have our .rhare of wine and lo.f.fe.r, bu! we derive our real enjoymenlfrom gelfing logelher wilh lhe kidf of dzferenl .rchoolm and playing lo lhe be.rI of our abilizfy. Unlike lhe Jpring, wifh il.r lennzlr, ba.reball, lrack and Jwimming, lhe valuew gained ,from our .fall program cenier around leam play and cooperafion and friendl If compelifion. fllwo in lhefall came our jfrwl mounlain climb, which wa.r .ruggemled al brealqfawl by one of lhe leacherw. Clawew were cancelled, .randwzchef were hawlily made, and lhe whole .fchool hiked up Greylock Ilouniain. A few dayw laler came alumni weekend, which wad' of greal inlerewl lo everyone and parlibularffy lo fhe people who had been al ihe .rchool during paw! year.r. Thilr wa.r lhe firwl lime lhe graduaz'e.r had come back a.r a unil. If wa.rfa.rcinaling io walch ilze eye.r of ihe newer .rludenz'.r, lheirfriend.r, and fhe old limer.r all uniling in reminilrcing. T he alumni compared nolea' on whalBuxlon had meanl io lhem during lhe year.r .rince lhey had gradualed. Excerpla' from wha! .rome of fhem wrolefollow. page lwenly T is very hard to look back and see yourself growing up. I see a young boy, tall, thin, and afraid. Afraid of what? He doesn't really know and around him there is a sort of a wall Cknown as a cover- up mechanismj to hide his fear. The wall that was once impenetrable begins to soften and melt away. This took time and care, but the result: a mature young man now able to face life and say, 'I have won at last and life is what I make it from now on. Sk wk bk Ik ik First of all, I think it taught me how to live with other people - something that I probably would not have gotten so soon at a public high school, or at many other boarding schools whether they be co-ed or not. This was because of the freedom that was allowed to us and the daily almost minute to minute need for cooperation that this freedom entailed. The fact that the school is small does of course have some dis- advantages, but this very smallness is instrumental in helping its stu- dents tme in particularl to what is the most underlying goal of secondary education: to learn how to live with yourself and with society as a whole. By being small it makes it easier to get these techniques of relations established in dealing with only a small group before this generalized society is tackled. But while this was going on we did not lose contact with the 'outsidef Thus it was not the great ivory tower that is so easy for a school of this kind to become. Pk Sk Ik if Ik First of all I remember gaining a firm sense of values and from them an ambition to, in some way, fulfill my new found ideals. I gained the self-confidence necessary to try to put my plans into effect and I learned to see what an obstacle or situation required to be surmounted. Of course I was taught an ample amount of scholastic knowledge so that my foundation in such matters was sufficient for a college. As I look back I regret that I have been unable to maintain closer ties with the school that has meant so much to me and so much for me. Ik ik Ik Hk lk The greatest contribution that Buxton gave me was to loosen up inwardly. It also gave me confidence and made me approach subjects which before I would never dare lay my hands on for fear that I would not be able to keep up with the others. Buxton reminds me of a chicken where one has a place of warmth under the wing and yet the individual is left free to develop and think the way he wishes. page lwmly-one At Buxton the timid students, skilled or unskilled, join in all ac- tivities. The new students try new things, become somewhat proficient at them, and if they have the chance to use these or similar skills again a sense of confidence is there. Buxton gives the student a chance to try many new skills and to develop abilities which in a larger school he'd never have the chance to try, much less develop. Also the Buxton student has a chance to develop a rounded mind in a wide field and while doing so manages to apply himself to his studies in such a manner that a college acceptance is practically assured. l 1 lVl1en llze leavew begin lo lurn yellow and Ilze air lakem on a brzlrlc clzill in llze earlqjall monllw, and fhe people have grown lo know eaclz olher and fnd a place in llze group, llzen il i.r lhe cumlom eaclz year-for ll1e .rfudenlw and lhe jacully lo combine llzeir efforlw in .rome .rorl of crealive endeavor. Qf all llze man-made device.r lo bring people logellzer .rucce.rqfully, a play will1 il.r llzourrandm of inlricale parl.r lil' by all .rlandaratr lhe mom! gralilfzfing in llze end. Une of llze mo.rl inlerewling and maluring a.rpecl.f of fl!!-J' .rclmol Iii' il.r concenlralion on llze drama. Drama, by il.r nalure, demandm an ex- ceplional amounl of cooperalion and drive jrom boil: .rludenir and jacully, and llziw lzaw been achieved lo .fuclz a degree here llzal we lzave been able lo lake .ruch plalw a.r Berkeley Square, family Porlrailf' and Ilze JIad- woman ofCl1aillol on llze road. Tlzzir lam! cva.r given in five loevnw and cva.r very cvell received. page Iwenlg-Iwo Drama .reem.r to have a particularly great emotional appeal to people of high .rchool age. Thia' ir, we think, largely due to the fact that playing demandr a relea.re of the emotionwg they mu.rt be alwayf ready to he called up from their dormancy and to he put to u.re in the moot effective way po.r.ri- ble. In adoleacence feelingw are .ro Jtrong, and are often for thir rea.ron in- clined to be .fuhmergedforfear they may dzlrrupt the life of the per.ron who happenm to be the unlucky bearer of .fuch emotion.r. It .reemw a wonderful thing that at leiwt in afew .rchoolc it if po.r.rible to bring the.refeeling.f out into the open .ro that they may he recognized and appreczatedfor what they are without fear or uncertainty a.r to what the outcome of .ruch emoliono' might he. Thur .reeemw a very important, very nece.r.fa11y achievementfor any .rchool. Alma, for tho.re who dircover in them.relve.r a real intere.rt in the drama it if po.f.fible to become involved with the Adamo' Jlemorial Theatre, which ir at lVilliam.f College, and if one of the heel equipped theatrew in the country. W hen the play wad' over and the late afternoonm were free again .rludenlw could often be .reen going down to l7illiam.rlown. The town ha.r many thing.r to ojer, among them are it.r art, theatre, mu.ric, and lecture.r. T icketw to the college dramatic productionm are available to all the .rtudent.r. Their program hae included .ruch playa' aa Liliom, Pygmalion, Henry IV and many other.r. Concerto and dehatex have alma furthered our knowledge and undenrtanding of our lime. By now the .rchoot ill' no longer a dilrconnected group, but a unit that know.r itrelf and every part of the daily life that goew on. Winter come.r with it.r Jkating, Jkiing, Jledding, baaketlzall and jolly time.r, with ite' .mow lralljightr, and .rnow whovelling, and with the hard work that alwayw comew with the winter montha. T hir ilr al.ro the time of beautdul day.r when the world becomef .ro quiet that no one darew .rhatter it with a wound. To thilr atmo.rphere poetry lendr itfetf a.r an excellent meanw of welf- expremrion. SNOW I hear the silent thunder of it descending As in my own earth's breast. The trumpet elms in rows Shout miracles to the sky. - Mary Lathrop page twenty-three COLD WINDS There's a cold wind blowing, child, lt's a harsh wind blowing, child, lt sweeps across all plains and its force Makes great trees bend. Under it a vast sea swells, Before it fly many storms. Feel it fan your cheek, child, it is cold is it not? You are frightened? Ah, but Hide your face not behind that rock, For above a great sun smiles And if the wind fails to conquer your spirit, If you can reach very high, A finger tip will touch a ray And then a warmth will fill your soul. Your eyes are bright, my little one, Reach out, reach higher, reach higher, But there's a cold wind blowing, child, Its a harsh wind blowing, child. -Elfzabeih Shulman IMMORTALITY The tragedy of death is meek And unsustained in the sweeping flow, That brings upon the mind The thought of death in death's self. To pass the mortal gate in conscious gaze And reflect to what end it seeks, Mortality becomes a thing of man, And death a single step ln soul's rebirth to life. A break prevails when conscious thoughts Relent to over tones of captured reach, And when this harmony in perfect stride Capitulates to mar unconscious hope, The will to look beyond is lost. A calm that's found beyond the eye, Is tempered only by the heart g If found this truth evolves in symmetry, Which passes past the real And locks itself, the soul, in greater light, In this rebirth of lifelessness to life. - Alzlron, Detnrau page lwenfytfaur AGAINST THE SKY Big boned pine trees laden down with snow Snow closes 'round the bushes but the berries still show. Mountains can't be seen save an outline in the sky Fading, fading, fading as the hours go by. Snow piling deeper on the stained grass ground Flurries in the sky flying down, around Patches of the dark earth still show through Leaving more work for the wind to do. Dark earth can't resist being covered by white lt's a good long rest having a five month night. Dark man's been resting a century or so And the wind has just begun to push away the snow. Strong black arms can be seen against the sky Bigger, bigger, bigger as the years go by. White men getting smarter to the strong winds blow Black men getting wiser as the space begins to grow. The last green leaves drop quickly to the ground They fall upon the rising snow and make a silent sound. The snow falls between the wisps of uncut hay And the sweet wind's blow seems to show the snow the way Big boned pine tree laden down with snow Snow closes 'round the bushes but the berries still show. Mountains can't be seen save an outline in the sky. Fading, fading, fading as the hours go by. - Thelma dflelman page lwcnlyzfivc I have sinned And I have sinned directly and indirectly And I have sinned the worst of all sins. I have compelled those who wish not to sin Into sin. The product of a so-called society Wlhich I, myself, have created. According to a code of laws Of an unknown something, And that is a sin For I have created and I have sinned out of nothing. And that too is a sin. I am the lover but not the loved The individual but yet the masses, The sinner, and the sinned. - lfylllfam Horwlll dfler walking and running in ll11'.r cold and flftldfllliul almo.rpl1ere llzere fir a plaee wlzere we are alwagx welcome. Ylzere in ll1e preerence of llze lclnd of people wlzo we know are nzore llzan Wl..f6 and more llzan wonderful we can .wp a lzol cup of eqfee. flnd ll IIJ' nalural llzal in a eommunllu Juelz am lluir llzere .rlzould lze ll1e.re people: llze gardener and lnir wlfe. I lze gardener wlzo lm .ro muelz more llzan jaw! a gardener f he lil' a doclor, a mlalefman, and a man ,ro wzlre llzal ll IIA' a pllu llzal llze world eannol paufe-for a momenl I0 lzlrlen lo l11'.r pl11'lo.ropl1-y. Here zlr llze l1ou.re wlzere you can .ffl down and lell all your .recrel llzouglzlm lo lz1'.r wlle and lo lzlnz and lzlrlen lo all llzelr wzirdom llzal gearir of experience lzave lauglzl llzem. page lwenly-.fix fm-1' 2-vw' we-v--T - - When Chrilrlmac come.r il 111' lime for .ringing and going oul info lhe nighl bundled up wilh a good .rupply of .rong.r-for lhe .rurrounding hou.fe.r. Alma al lhilr lime, we have a Chrilrlmaw parly for everyone connecled wilh lhe Jchool. Each penron draw.r .romeone el.re'.f name a week before, and lhi.r re.rull.f in lhe giving of .filly pre.renl.r and lhe reading of lzumoroua' poem.r allached lo lhe gifl.r. We .ring carolr aflerwardr and end lhe evening with refremhmen l.r and dancing. The winler .reem.r lo go quickly for lhere are .ro many acliviliex and recrealionw lo fill up our lime. Xllany ouldoor job.r are lo be done .ruch am chopping wood for lhe freplacea' and felling lreewfor lumber. Qflen al 5.45 in llze morning a .rmall group would be oul in lhe wood.f. Thi.r wa.r by no mean.r a compulwoly job bul ralher lhe incenlive waffound in lhe peace of lhe wood.r and lhe .rpirilual beauly of an early morning .runri.re plum a greal feeling of accomplilrhmenl. There waw alwaga hol coffee before going oul and lime lo relax and lalk. AJ- French wa.r ollen hallinglzf Jpoken, llze .rleepg morningx were alive and amu.ring. One parlicularly wonderful morning llze group gol inlo lhe car and drove lo lhe lop of lhe lllohawk Trail lo walch lhe .funriwe over lhe valley. Ulher morn ing.f were Jpenl, when il wax loo cold lo work, lalking, lzlrlening lo mu.ric, or walking. Work program on Saturday morning i.r alro a necemraly par! of lhe gear'.r cooperalive accompliwhmenl. I l includew .ruch lhingw a.r cleaning lhe hou,re, working on lhe groundc and converling lhe old corn crib inlo a lhealre. Belween Chrilrlmaa' and Jpring, becauwe of lhe deep Jnow, much of lhe lime i.f .fpenl indoonr and lhiw period .rcemw lhe mo.rl inlenfefor inlelleclual growlh, including mach crealive wriling. Pk HF lk Pk Pk l stopped, I listened, but did not enter ing I heard the whispers, then laughter free and long. I started to enter, but turned away again For I did not belong. S Ann Jlalhewa' wk Ik if lk Ik A soft mesh spreads swiftly over the earth trapping those whose minds have drained the earth of all beauty. Those small enough slipped easily through, and once again called on the Cyclops to hurl away all wretched existence. - Thelma Adelman page lwenly-.reven THE PAINTED SM ILE ODERICK propped his crooked elbows on the sill of his window and glanced across the soft red brick of the tenements with their splashes of color made by potted geraniums and checked kitchen curtains whipping against the window frames. He followed the slant lines of the fire escapes to their termination in the little dirt squares below where the pachysandra and ivy struggled in the grey sooty earth. He followed the contour of the sagging fences 7 the pathway of the alley cats. He caught the variation of color on the wash lines. Roderick smiled and nibbled the end of his paint brush. It was the time in the evening when the eastern windows hold the glint of the western sun, and cooking smells mingle with clinking silver and dishware to be carried away on a small sighing breeze. The same breeze which rocked the leaves of a tree below and the same which fanned lightly his hollow cheek . . . wafted playfully, laughingly across his hol- low cheek. Then Roderick bit hard on the end of his paint brush and the wood split and splintered inside his mouth. He leaned his head far out the window and spat at the grimy dirt of the square yard below. He laughed now, and his laugh rose to a Crescendo and it roared on the rising wave of the sighing breeze. Laugh, Roderick, laugh. Laugh at the little woman who hangs out her window across the way, laugh at the stooped little man who shakes his cane at a prowling tomcat, laugh at the street urchin who bounces his indian rubber ball against the sag- ging fence. Laugh, Roderick, laugh - but remember the echo of that laugh rebounds on the faces of the soft red brick to mock you. Roderick, remember well your first night here, when you flung open this window as it is now and you smiled at the woman who hung from her window, and watched the color of the sinking sun die on her rounded cheek while the same sighing breeze caught a small laugh and carried it to the trees where it could mingle with the laughing of the leaves. Roderick, remember well the morning. The smell of bacon and coffee grounds that hung in the air before the little breeze awakened. Your canvas was bare, but you painted on it with sure strokes, the warmth of the soft colored brick and the yellow hue of the cornices. You used burnt umber and sooty black in the shadows and in the dark caverns of the windows. You purpled the shadows of the paving stones below, dabbed yellow-green for the sun-touched leaves. Roderick, you nibbled gently on the end of your brush that day and you hummed softly. As you painted, you dreamed of a one-man show. White-haired critics stroking whitened beards, dark, thin young men gesturing with long- fingered hands, women sighing, smiling, maybe even crying. People awed by the power of your color, Roderick, your composition, each object page lwenly-sigh! balanced under the dexterity of your trained hand. The picture of great success lay in those fingertips, didn't it, Roderick? Money - clinking in your pocket. Money . . . money for happiness, Roderick. You painted for many days here in this room. Sometimes you carried your canvas and easel and smudged paint box to the entrance of the park, or to the vegetable and fruit centers where stubby Italians smiled at their customers as they wiped their hands on their wide white aprons. You painted brocaded balconies, shaded courtyards, winding alleys lined with overflowing garbage cans. You recorded the cobblestones on the streets where the weary wagon horses hauled carts of flowers. A massive dark shadow has been cast on your soul, Roderick, or is it a shadow? Perhaps, at last, it is light . . . the first light. You wanted happiness, Roderick. Material success gathered with the power of your own hand. Ah, that was valiant of you and you thought it valiant. But, Roderick, let me point out to you the place where real happiness dwells. Look again at the woman on whose cheek the color of the sinking sun dies. She's smiling a deep smile. The man with his cane is now standing under his tree where the tomcat perches in the lower branches. He is laughing now as he turns to his wife standing in the door, sliding the apron off from around her waist. She returns his laugh with a slow smile which blends into her cheeks and whose warmth reflects in her eyes. lt's the smile which reveals itself slowly, and deepens on a face - that is the true smile of the happiness you seek. Roderick, if you look hard you will see the little street urchin through the leaves. He has just caught his ball once more as it rebounds from the fence. Roderick, he is dirty and thin, but he too is laughing as he clasps the ball in the cup of his hands. Do you remember the Italian standing before his fruit stand? He was talking with a woman in a tattered black coat. There were wisps of straight grey hair showing from under the faded silk scarf. She was telling him that her son had gone to serve his country and, Roderick, she smiled a gentle but proud smile. The creation of her life, Roderick, was finished, and she smiled on its completion. The people of your paintings have smiles such as the one you once wore. A painted smile - just as it was only painted on your face. Your smile is as shallow as the paint on your canvas. You have searched for something that was nothing, and now, Roderick, when the dexterity of your hand is no longer there, you realize that it is not your hand that creates a great masterpiece. It is the spirit that lies embedded in your soul. Not money for happiness, Roderick. Your soul for happi- ness. Roderick laughed once more, and the echo of that laugh faded into the face of the soft brick. -Flzkabelh Slzulman page lwenly-nine dn oulrlandlngjaclor fha! ham alwayw lleen parl of llze currzculum fm llze annual .rchool frzp. W'e have gone lofve dljfferenl placew l.l'I.hyK't' tflzlfdfflll .zfearm and have alwayf premenled a play. Y7Il'J'.1ft?t1l' lhe Hlladwoman of Challlolu wax given fn lhe .fall lerm lo .reveral audfencem fn a t'l.L'l.l71lll lhal nzowl of um know .ro ll wa.r no! acknowledged a.r a regular fchool lrzp, al- lhough Il wax an exlrenzelzf e.x'cz'l1'ng lour. W e decide upon lhe lrzp wflh lhe Idea of acquzrfnlzj new eJcperz'ence.r ,for our.relve.r and QIIIIUIIIZQQ pleawure lo olherm. Zhe world aw fl flanafr loday pre.renl.r .ruch an unlrellled pzclure fha! when we came up wflh lhe Idea of .111'vz'ng a l'f?ll1Ill.0Ll.I' pageanl wflh lhe words' laken jronz len .areal .rcrzpluref everyone agreed lhal would he an en ornzoum challenge. The pa-oeanl wa.r laken lo .Yew Yorkbfor Iwo dayf. Yhere wax a per- formance .given al llze Turlle 1361-lf ,llumic SClI00l-l.0f-fbf6ll0l1 .rludenl.v, and olhem' who were fnleremled. live hroughl hack .vfxbforezlqn J'lllI2,El1h1'Qflll:f7't l'Kl1l I'Illll'0lIl1l1.ll't'J'fbi' a weekend conference fn Wl.lll.dm.Vl0WH. Uur lopfc, lhe haxfc unllu of all relzlqfonm, ,reenzf alnzomlxforqollen loday. lffejeel lhal lhe idea of one Godfor all, fn H1'.r l.l'ldI.l'l.dlldl way, wax .rlmplzf prefenled and lhal ll wax on lhzlr common l1a.r1'.r lhal lhe .uoufh.r of many lzackgroundr could dzlrcum and correlale lheir 1'dea.r and unfle In lhe .rpfrflual undenrlandfng of all.fa1'll1.r. T he fprlng comew and wfllz If all .rhadem of .rplendor and excflefnenl. fl lrrealh of jre.rhnelr.r louchem lhe weed, lhe Nower, and llze hearl. .llany people wander and walk in llzefeldm and woodr, ana' al.ro expre.r.r lhrough wr1'I1'ng lhelr ,feeling of lhe magnflude of lhzlr relzfrllz, afler lhe requiem of wfnler. page lhirly A SONNET There is a constant withering in the heart Which saddens the mind when we are left alone For gesture, joy, we cannot hold as stone Ceasing to be remembered fall apart. When I look at you your eyes impart Stillness, golden-static music tone Which sends a tonic fluting through the bone, Yet when you cease to be it will depart. We are complexities with too much soul Marring the simple with our spider minds. We thread an aimless web without a goal Which unaware catches the fearful winds. Because I can't divine the storm above, Longing, I must return to you in love. - Xllary Laihrop lk HF lk lk lk DO not feel as though l am here tonight. Not here, now, where l will always love to be, but far off in the sky gliding across heaven with the moon. My body, although touched, feels no warmth, but only the desire to comfort the ones who so readily withdraw. The desire to express this natural tenderness that floats across the heavens with me. The tenderness that remains enclosed in tangible shape. Words which wander about changing in height and length but never in meaning. Were I to say these thoughts out loud, I would glide easily from the sky and once again feel the warmth of the hands on my back. The natural emotions of association would flow warmly through my soul and the hesitation present would cease. The moon glides further along the heaven and my words are chilled into silence. -Thelma ddelman lk Ill lk Ili if GOD AND NATURE Nature is not god For god is the soul of man Who looks upon nature. And he who perceives nature most deeply Is the artist. And it is he who is most pious. - fllaqzf Lalhrop page lhirly-one ASPIRATION This day engulfs the caverns of my mind To reach such heights That aspiration bends to meg A greater soul and heart for simple love, Which can unfold the miracle of lightg When first I came to tread on unknown sod The valley of my sorrow, deep pathed, Relented only then to outer joy, For when the steel of mind Can temper helpless thoughts The hour's light melts away to darkness. Once enchained the spirit is devoid, And human mind a counter part Is so entrenched that life becomes unreal to life. The folly of this irony of mind, Came so close, I trembled, For waking from this sleepless dream, The cold now a stranger gone, Contents my soul in revelation of the clay, And aspiration bends again to me. f Alziron IJEJJIIM FF if Pk Pk Pk WHERE SEA FADES YVhere sea fades to sky and sky to sea There may I find eternal clarity And only there: but you must come with me. Where time finds its own incessant rhyme There shall I discover my nativity And only thereg but you must come with me. Where love is always and only love There shall it find no enemy And only thereg but you must come with me. Ah! but I see that I must go alone. - llary Lalhrop page llzirly-Iwo NIGHT The russet light Is on the pink-skinned trees again, And its halo drives me To a new born love, the night. A Shyly fall the shadows Which bugle to coming shepherd, Whose staff guides the moon Through a faultless pass, the sky. Above a blood-stained shield, Above the steel and dust, Above the mossy peaks, Above a timbered mass, A panther's eye blinks, And reblinks its recognition In a watered tomb, below. Iron arms hold me, And the song of the lark Twists, into the shrill and trembling wind. Soft are the hours, Captured and recaptured with each step, Upon the singing earth that carries them lnto the mystery ahead. My tears are clear with happiness, And as my body unaware Bends with the tide, Dawn comes in with all its innocence, And with it silence, And with silence, The deep sleep of another day. - f1ll.J'0I'1 Deazrau if wr wk ff ak Gradaalion come.r in June. The year ha.r fimlrhed here. W e have lived and learned in a way fha! lo uf lil' lhe mon' ideal po.r.rz'ble. W e all came wilh our ldealm and .fadalenlyfoand fha! .ro many of lhem were realifiar lhai we aafomafzeally dzlrcovereal newer and luylzer anew. Becauwe of the lhing.r we have de.rcrlbed in Ihzlr book and the new found .rentfe of valued' llza! we derived from ihem, gradualion lid' by no meanw an ena' of our eduealion. page lhirly-lhree PATRONS Mr. Daniel Adelman Dr. and Mrs. E. C. Blakeman Mrs. William F. Blitzer Dr. and Mrs. Peter Blos Mr. and Mrs. Iohn Cazale College Bookstore College Restaurant Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Dessau Mrs. William Egan Mr. Ioseph Farnham Mr. Peter Felix Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Fincke Mr. and Mrs. Charles Gleaves Grundy's Garage Harts' Drugstore I. R. Homer Company Iunior Class of Buxton School Mr. and Mrs. Harry Kalker Mr. Philip Kalker Larry's Cleaning Service Mr. and Mrs. Richard Leek Miss Genna Lewis Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Lewis Mr. and Mrs. A. Sproule Love The McClelland Press Mr. and Mrs. Iohn H. Mathews Mr. Iohn B. Moortgat Dr. George Mullen Miss Vija Peterson Phillips' General Store Mr. Warren A. Pond Mrs. Frederic S. Power Mr. Iames B. Power Mr. Peter Robertson Compliments of Rudnick's M. Salvatore 81 Sons Mrs. Frank Sangster Mr. and Mrs. O. K. Sherwin Dr. and Mrs. H. S. Shulman Taconic Park Restaurant Mrs. Walter Van de Kamp Vet's Taxi, Tel. 96 House of Walsh Williams Co-op Williams News Room Miss. Stella Willins The Senior Clam of 7952 al Buxlon wdrhem zo ilze above patronw page lhirlyjour lo exlend zl.r .rmcere llzankr