Calhoun School - Ink Pot Yearbook (New York, NY)

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Q 1936 INK POT + Sixteen The Chase Q Prize Poeml They said 'twas so fine that the weather was clear, The dogs had more spirit that way, But a stag in the forest knew not of the fear Of hunting dogs chasing their prey. The young horses neighed and stamped restlessly, Awaiting the horn's distant cryg But a stag in the wood that capered, so free, Knew not that his end was nearby. Oh, Lord of all Nature, they call this a sport, When horses' hooves beat on the track Of a poor helpless beast that cannot be taught To beware of a gun's fatal crack! How gay they all looked in their black coats and red Galloping after the hounds. We're on the trail I briskly, one of them said As they crossed o'er the innocent's grounds. ! The hunting dogs sniffed and barked their aware, The swift horses snorted their glee, And of a sudden, a shot pierced the air, 'Twas quick end of the huntsmen's spree. 'Twas the end, too, of a poor little stag That lay still in the quiet woody He wasn't much for a gentleman's bag, The season, they said, Hwasnlt good. JOAN Honwrrz, '36

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. 1936 INK POT ' I did, for he answered, All I know is that if the music lifts me from myself and brings me into active sympathy with the mood of the composer, it's music for me. Technically I know nothing. There's a concert being given next week. Shall we discover music together ? It was the beginning of a great love, and I am grateful to him now for having introduced me to it. We had many good times together. He took me for long drives through the country 3 he taught me how to dive, and how to place a tennis ball in a position on the court that would be to my advantage 3 he introduced me to the joys of galloping a spirited horse through miles of dusty paths shaded by blooming trees. And one night he took me canoeing. The night was hot and still-so still that we could only hear the subdued splash of the paddle as it entered the water. We began to sing the current favorites of the day when he suddenly became earnest. I've something to tell you. His voice was serious. It's a secret. Nobody knows, so don't say anything. He looked at me penetratingly as though to make doubly sure that I could be trusted. I'm engaged. No, it's not announced yet, he added in answer to my questioning look. My fiancee had to go to Europe with her mother, so we decided to wait until she gets back before making the news public. Jerry, how exciting! Have you her picture with you ? When he handed me the photograph he struck a match so that I could see it more clearly. The brightness fell on a face that disappointed me, and I was not yet old enough to hide sudden emotions. No, he said in answer to my thoughts, she's not pretty, not a bit except her eyes, but looks don't count. Yes, they do. I rose to the defense of my dream prince, who had the face of Clark Gable and the shoulders of any tackle on a football team. Oh, no. You're wrong there. You'd soon tire of an ornament. You should marry someone who would be a companion, an intellectual equal. Would it be happi- ness to live with a man, who, although he looked like a Greek god, was as silent as an Egyptian mummy when you Wanted to discuss a book or play with him? Would it be happiness if you preferred a social life while he favored a Hreside and a newspaper? You've got to build married life on the firm basis of mutual under- standing and mutual companionship with, of course, enough differences of opinion to make it stimulating. What he said impressed me more than I realized at the time. I have thought frequently and intensely about it and I agree with him now. I wonder sometimes whether I should have reached the same conclusion had he not paved the way. When the summer drew to an end, I did not regret the return of Jerry's fiancee. I did not regret, then, that our friendship had come to an end. I had come to take the companionship quite casually and at first accepted its termination indifferently. But after a few days, I began to miss confiding my inconsequental joys and trivial sorrows to him. I began to miss the challenge of intellectual stimulation. I had felt myself growing more mature and self-confident during the summer, and I resented having my growth arrested, even temporarily. But he had said to me often, Never look back. Live in the present, and make allowances for the future. Although I have tried to adopt this philosophy as I had adopted so many others, I can never quite obliterate the memory of him who taught me the meaning of true friendship. BETTY BARON, '37. Fifteen

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F Q 1936 INK POT ' I Warmer! Both Hmzrlr Q Prize Prosel HEN I was younger, before I knew it couldn't be, I used to pray that l could live till the earth died-and always be sixteen. I wanted to see everything the earth could show me, I wanted to live life to its fullest, and it seemed to me that time was far too short. I remember how desperate I was when I saw that I wasn't staying young enough. I felt that life was cruel-it showed me a glimpse of what I could have, and death would take me before I really looked. One day while I was watching a sunset, suddenly I realized that I could really live a lifetime-fully and completely and not lose any of the earth's beauties. It was very simple-I had only to economize. I would live not only my life but the lives of all around me. I would hate one person thoroughly-because hate gives life a color and a dash. I would love one person thoroughly-because love gives life its gold and warmth. Then I would hate the hates of all my friends and love the loves of all of them. I would see France through the eyes of everyone I knew as well as through my own-and so France would become for me not one great land I could hardly see-but a land I saw through many moods. I could find the past very easily now-my grandmother showed me Europe long ago. I remember her first ball-and vaguely the day she and her two sisters played in the attic with my great-grandmother's hoop-skirts. I remember Fifth Avenue in 1900. It was a lovely placeg there were no stores, just private houses and carriages with an occasional car-a new invention that was very dangerous-it frightened the horses so. My riding master showed me Maine in 1880. I remember how white the snow was-whiter than now-because it was only a horse that ever spoiled its freshness, and then not too often. One day three daring young blades went riding through the crisp, still air, and the breath was so cold it froze way up their noses. I liked Maine then. Itls such a lovely memory now. Thus I'll see the future too-my little cousin is giving it to me already. It's not quite definite yet but it's beginning-I'll watch it grow. You ought to see the desert now. My friend goes riding out to little villages every Sunday to help the sick. It's one of the things I've always wanted to do- and now I'm doing it every Sunday! I'm so busy Sundays, too. In the morning I go riding in the Bois in Paris-then I go into the desert to the sick, and for actreat I go to a movie in New York in the afternoon. I never know what the evening brings-I let the future have that-or sometimes I give it to the past. J UDITH SCH ER ER, '36. The Test Ilm studying and I'm studying- To-morrow comes: with aching heart But it doesn't do much good. I meet the awful fear, I don't know what it's all about- The problems I most dread Oh, gee, I wish I could. Are suddenly quite clear. We have a test t0-m0rr0w, When the papers were returned to us, I'm afraid that I will fail- I found that I had passedg It's math, and though I'm trying I saw it paid to study, The mere thought makes me pale. And I understood at last. JEAN Cones, '40 Seventeen