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

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+ 1936 INK POT Q Sportrmefz if Paradise HE pontoons skim over the water, the momentum increases, then comes one unforgettable moment, a moment in which a wave of indescribable emotions sweeps us upward with the rising plane. The plane's mechanical soul, soaring higher, reaches out to the heavens, then levels out in order to pick up speed. We feel like small dynamos ready to explode when we realize we are no longer in the world. We're above the clouds in the aviator's paradise. The horses tear madly up the field. They snort and stamp, their nostrils quiver. The same feeling of exultation and awareness stirs both horse and rider as they hear the sharp click, click that signifies that once again the mallet has found its mark. Polo! A game of speed, spills and sharp wits. A certain something impels spectators to wish they could take part, since we can't, however, we must be content to scream out wild suggestions as the players spur their ponies on toward the goal. But one doesn't have to be a polo player to get a thrill and a laugh out of horses and riding. Even in riding across an open field there is sure to be a fence to attract the horse's attention. In a moment we have had our first lesson in hurdling. Sometimes the horses get thirsty and so we stop by a brook. The horse gets tired Y of drinking, but then perhaps he'll decide to take a swim, and so we find ourselves Have you ever gone racing quite comfortably seated in the middle of the brook. up a spiral-shaped hill in the woods, through brambles and over logs? It's quite a sensation wondering if you and your horse will go the same way or whether you'll part company at the next turn. But what thrills us most is realizing that by a slight pressure of our knees our will becomes known to the horse. Horses are smartg that's why riders must be smarter. Tilting is a sport that is not very well known to most people. Two canoes, with two people each, set out. One paddles, the other carries a tilting pole, a long pole of about nine feet, at one end of which is something similar to a punching bag. The tilters stand on the gunwales of the boats. The object is to shove your opponent into the water. Bicycling is another sport in which the unexpected often happens. We're pedaling along at a terrific rate, and before we know it we're apologizing to somebody or other for nearly murdering him. At the same time we're muttering something about just having discovered that the bike has hand instead of foot brakes. Whatever sport we choose for our own particular hobby doesn't matter, for all are similar in that they're grand fun. We know, too, that there is sure to be a surprise in store for us. l Resolve I will think of other things, Poised bird with outstretched w White cloud mirages in the sky, Infinite things that will not die, Roadside Howers' dusty faces, ings, Fireflies hidden in dark places- Be he proud as he is fair, I mus I will think of things more rare, Cry of loons across the lake I DOY Cafe. Should a heart that's mended ache? MADELEINE JACOBS, '36. A Thought In the night, when I, in bed, Say my prayers and rest my head, Children in some other lands Open their eyes and stretch their hands. Funny how the world turns round, And they wake when I sleep sound. Some day I'd like to travel far Where the people backwards are. MARION SCHUI-MAN, 36 Lrznoiu-: Aman., '41 Thirty

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+ 1936 INK POT Q I had been run over and broken my collar bone. For a long, long time I had to stay in bed. I remember one night. Everything was dark, I was alone, and even now across the years there comes to me that moment of intense pain. IVIy third bed opened a new period in my life. I shared a room with my little brother, Stanley. His bed was next to mine, and at night we used to talk before we fell asleep. We would bring bowls of fruit and boxes of candy into the room, and eat them while we read or talked. Once we were alone at home, and we both were in bed, reading. I was just at the point where the hero was escaping with the heroine through a graveyard, when a low, mournful, long drawn out VVhoooo sounded through the house. I looked up at Stanley with such a frightened face that he became just as scared as I was. I jumped out of bed, with Stanley following, and rushed to the maid's room. All her threats and pleadings were useless. We refused to leave until Mother and Dad came home, and stood with us until we fell asleep. Thorough investigation the next day traced the sound to a Ventilating pipe in the hall. I remember one bright morning waking to find myself completely dressed, even as to shoes. I had delayed undressing until I should feel less sleepy, and meanwhile crawled in between the covers for a brief snooze, and fallen sound asleep. Then of course there was my camp bed. This bed included lots of adventuresg it possessed all the charm of forbidden fruit. We weren't allowed to have lights on after taps, so I used to burrow down under the blankets with my Hashlight and read as long as the air held out. We weren't supposed to leave our beds after we were all set for the night, so as soon as our councillor left we would all scramble on to the corner bed and whisper until we saw her returning. I remember, one night, two from our bunk had gotten permission to go to a movie in town. Through some coincidence the rest of us had managed to smuggle some food into the bunk. We saw the two off, giving them lists of things to buy for us. After taps we put two beds next to each other, gathered our food together, and then the three of us piled in. We decided to stay awake until they got back, which would be about twelve. First of all we divided the food and put their share aside. Now the best way for a camper to keep awake is to be told to go to sleep, but our councillor had told us that we could wait up for the others as a small com- pensation for not going 5 thus we were robbed of the best method. The next best way is to eat. We ate until our supply ran out, and then we used the last resourse -we talked. We began on nothing and graduated to fairy tales, but finally we gave up. It was hours before twelve. Lee was three-quarters asleep when in desperation I suggested the remaining food. Lee sat up and even Didy was revived. But I was seized with remorseg this was rank disloyalty, etc., etc. VVe argued with ourselves for half an hour and then finished the food. Now there was absolutely nothing to do but fall asleep. Lee, the worst culprit, was sleeping like a baby, Didy was whistling rhythmically away fshe had sinusj, and I was shaking hands with the sandman when the sound of loud whispers brought us all awake again. They were back and brought us as a special treat chicken salad sandwiches with sliced pickle. We sat up in bed and ate like starved wolves. Then having nothing better to do we fell asleep. lVIy next bed was still another step forward. With it came my own room. high-school, and the most acute stages of growing up. This bed includes poison-ivy, a badly sprained ankle, and a true appreciation of a bed. For I have found that one of the greatest comforts of life is to crawl into bed, turn over, relax, and fall asleep. JUDITH SCHERER, '36. Twenty-nine

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+ 1936 INK POT Q A Fairy Tale ONCE upon a time there was a girl named Judith. Judithls hobby was collecting books: she collected big books, she collected small books, and she also collected middle-sized books. She would ride on crowded subways to the other end of town, spend all her money except carfare home and considered herself thrice-blessed if she returned carrying ten pounds of books. Poor Judith was obsessed with the idea of book collecting. In her there burned the dangerous fever of a fad-possessed mortal. She grew thin, she grew wasted, her eyes burned with a fanatic gleam, her hands grabbed with greed every book she could pay for, and daily she staggered home under a fresh load of books. Poor Judith, even her best friends avoided her Qshe had tried without success to buy their books, tooj. Poor, poor Judith! Finally her mother decided to take a hand. She put on her bonnet and went calling on her best friend who happened to be a fairy and Judith's Godmother as well. Maud, said Judith's mother, I'm worried about Judith. She hasn't been eating well lately. She's lost weight and she doesn't sleep nights. What can I do ? Well, if we look at it medically, you could feed her ovaltine. But she was too fat in the first place, so we'll leave that out. On the other hand, if we look at it psychologically, it's her book-collecting that's working all the mischief. I know what's the trouble with Judith, said Judith's mother, but that's not the question. The question is what can I do about it ? ' You seem to have forgotten that lim a fairy, Arabella, said lilaud with a slightly offended air. Now you just leave it all to me, and everything will be all right. The thing I want you to do is to tell Judith I'd like to see her the day after tomorrow at one-thirty. Remember, one-thirty. I'll remember, I'll remember. Don't I always remember things? answered Arabella. Not when it's anything worth remembering, muttered Nlaud. When Judith arrived at her fairy Godmother's the next day she was ushered into the library. The room smelled of shellac, paint and turpentine. The books were piled in masses all around the room except in the center. In the center stood, to Judith's amazement, book after book in shining rows. Her Godmother, looking a complete wreck, was sitting on top of a stepladder painting books, which she handed to the butler, who with elaborate care stood each one up on the floor next to the one that had last been treated with shellac. Hello, said Judith. Oh, hello, Judy, replied her Godmother, come on in and help me. Judith groped her way with great difiiculty to the stepladder. When there, she sighed with relief and straightened up. Look out! yelled her Godmother. Oh, for heaven's sake-look what you have done. James, quick, hurry. James, with a lightning-like dart, retrieved the fallen book. NIaud's brush worked busily on it with three times the necessary labor, and she finally relinquished it to James, after a long and careful scrutiny for any defects. Arabella tells me you've been collecting books, said Maud, so, of course, as soon as I heard that I decided to remake my will fthis was all mere form because fairies live for hundreds of yearsl, leaving you all my books. Therefore, the first thing I want you to learn is how to take care of my library. We'll start with book shellacking. Now watch me. Thirty-one