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

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ink pot enchantment abroad THE booming of fhe fog horn as if bellowed forfh ifs final warning drowned ouf fhe bon voyage chorusing of fhe fhrong. Bidding farewell fo my parenfs amidsf fhis fense afmosphere of excifemenf, I sfarfed for my long-awaifed vacafion abroad. A fhrilling sensafion gripped me as fhe liner sailed down fhe bay. and fhe fwinkling lighfs of fhe New York skyline slowly faded info oblivion. ' For fhe nexf eighf days I enjoyed fhe relaxafion which fhe ocean voyage affords, and when I was nof occupied wifh shuffle board or deck fennis, my favorife pasfime was fo lie on a deck chair iusf gazing af fhe sea and sky. If was on fhe eighfh day fhaf my dream began. Juffing ouf of fhe sea, bleak and bare and enveloped in misf, were fhe Scoffish moors. They were my firsf sighf of Europe. During fhe ensuing fen weeks, my ifinerary covered Scofland, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. Each nafion fascinafed me. and I was impressed by fhe fair coloring and rugged beauf of fhe Norwegian race, fhe charm and courfesy of fhe Scandinavians. fhe canals of gfockholm, 'rhe New York afmosphere of Oslo and fhe one million bicycles of Copenhagen. However, I have never seen such an awe-inspiring sighf as fhaf mar- velous creafion of nafure, 'rhe Norwegian fiord. Waferfalls, gracefully flowing down a mounfainside from a heighf of 'ren Thousand feef, massive glaciers, deep ravines and winding lakes-all were a parf of fhese glorious fiords. All foo soon I found myself homeward bound in fhe midsf of a furious sea and a howling hurricane. Once again I was greefed by fhe New York skyline, brillianf in fhe noonday sun. If had nof changed, buf I had, for in fhose fwo monfhs my knowledge of fhe world and ifs people had been broadened fo give me a more 'Ioleranf and under- sfanding viewpoinf foward my fellowmen. CAROL J. KADEN, '38. the vision AMASS of black hair hung abouf his head like fhe long fur on a shaggy mongrel. Thick, bushy brows framed fhe alrnosf hidden eyes whose gaze was calm and sfeadfasf buf now held a look of fhe beafen in if. Thaf fhin skelefon of a nose, formed so perfecfly info a forehead far foo low, was somehow ouf of place in fhe homely face. wifh ifs fhick, poufing lips. Life had dealf him difficulf cards and he could nof play his hand. His musical soul craved expression and a chance fo show fhe world whaf he could do. He knew every nofe on fhe keyboard by hearf. The half-limping gaif had a fellfale air as he walked along fhe boulevard, fhe fhin rain falling Iighfly on his head. He leaned over fhe bridge and sfared info fhe swirling wafers as he muffered, lf's no good-Life is roH'enl Then, looking up info fhe gray sky, he cried, There is no God! There is no mercy! Tears rolled down his cheeks and fhe man sobbed. God, he prayed, bring her back fo me. The sky fhundered: Iighfning flashed: and a girl sfood before him. Her flaming hair hung in damp fendrils abouf her noble head and her wef dress clung fo her supple figure, revealing more fhan if hid. Her green eyes-he always fhou hf fhey looked like caf's eyes-were sef in a pale face wifh red, moisf lips. Abouf her hung an air of mysfery and inexpressible beaufy. The sea roared and fhe vision faded. Only realify remained and fhaf is so fasfe- less fo one alone and unloved. People passed, casf curious glances af fhe sfranger, fhen walked on wifh a careless shrug. A splash, and a momenf lafer all was quief. The sky fhundered, lighfning flashed, buf fhe boulevard was empfy. EDITH WILSON, '39. 'rhirfy-nine

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ink pot going formal in bermuda GOING fo a formal parfy in Bermuda presenfs guife a problem. as fhere are four ways by which one may reach one's desfinafion. Ouf of fhese mefhods only one has proved enfirely safisfacfory. Firsf, we shall begin wifh fhe mefhod used by prehisforic man, walking, provided fhaf your desfinafion is nof 'foo far away. You deparf from your house looking fresh as a daisy, in a preffy new frock and dainfy evening slippers, wifh your escorf on one arm and your chaperone on fhe ofher. Affer walking abouf five minufes up a sfeep coral road, you begin fo find fhe heels of your slippers slowly bending under fhe soles of your shoes. You 'rrudge on wearily, dodging in and ouf among bicycles and carriages fhaf always seem 'ro be geffing in your way. You finally reach your desfinafion, fhor- oughly fired and dirf , wifh your fresh frock covered wifh coral dusf. The second mefhod of fransporfafion is by boaf. You sfarf ouf enfirely af peace wifh fhe world. Your escorf has his new mofor boaf, wifh iusf enough room for fwo in fhe fronf seaf and a nice Iiffle rumble seaf in fhe back for your chaperone, buf much fo your regref, your chaperone iumps in alongside of your escorf, and fhere you are, alone in fhe back seaf, geffing your hair blown abouf and fhe spray drenching you. You arrive wifh cold, sfraighf hair, and a wef dress. The fhird mefhod of conveyance is by bicycle. Your male companion enjoys fhis mefhod immensel , as all he has fo do is fo fake a pair of frouser clamps and be off: buf no such luck for our Iiffle heroine! The long dress has fo be carefully gafhered up, so 'rhal' if can'f 'frail behind or gef caughf in fhe wheel. Ah, buf sure enough, info 'rhe wheel if goes and ouf if comes, affer much persuasion, 'rorn and covered wifh grease. You arrive hof and dusfy, wifh a forn and messy dress. The Iasf mefhod of fravel is fif for a princess and fhe mosf preferable, provided your escorf has received his allowance and is able fo give you fhis luxury, a coach drawn by fwo beaufiful whife horses. You are freafed like Cinderella in her fairy coach. You reach The parfy as spick and span as when you sfarfed ouf, wifh nary a hair ouf of place. Remember girls! While in Bermuda be sure of your escorf's favorife mode of fravel. ELAINE 6. GRAHAM, '38, the ocean THE mosf femperamenfal fhing fhaf I know of is fhe ocean. On a clear, sunny day. The ocean is a mass of rippling silver, as fhe sun reflecfs on 'rhe wafer. One can see fhe horizon, where fhe vasf ocean ends and fhe cloudless sky begins. The waves genfly roll and soffly break, 'ro lap againsf fhe sandy shore. All is franquil as 'rhe sea gulls darf here and fhere in search of prey. On a dismal, dreary day The ocean and 'rhe sky are as one. There is no separafion befween land and sea, as a draping misf envelops fhem bofh. The howling wind whips fhe ocean fo acfion, and fhe rushing, roaring waves gallo and spring downward wifh immense violence and force. The deep, angry ocean snarli and growls wifh malice, as she devours fhe refreafing shore. The frighfful, cruel, un ielding waves creafe pure whife foam which churns and sucks back fo fhe hearf of fhe fempesf. No one knows fhe goal of fhe sfern and hideous ocean, which seems defermined fo sweep everyfhing from ifs pafh. SHIRLEY LU BELL, '39, fhirfy-eighf

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ink pot fulfillment 0NE Iafe affernoon, in his smaII, one-room flaf, I-Ierr Sfraus, once a well-known German arfisf, saf crouched over a Iow fable, puffing a few Iasf-minufe fouches fo an easel painfing on which he had been working many monfhs. Though his deff fingers were sfeady as he finished if, neverfheless, once fhe brush was down, he had wifh a greaf efforf fo confrol himself. No one knew of fhe hardships Herr Sfraus had been fhrough in fhe Iasf few years. No one knew fhaf fhis emaciafed old man, wifh his long, unkempf hair and ragged clofhes, had once been wealfhy, his fame known fhroughouf fhe world. Cerfainly, no one realized fhaf fhis poor arfisf had been work- ing sfeadily for some fime pasf fo make one final painfing, a painfing in which he wanfed fo represenf fhe life he now wanfed fo Iead . Wifh slow, falfering sfeps, Herr Sfraus fook fhe canvas over fo fhe cracked win- dow, so as fo gef a beffer look af if. If was fruly a beaufiful picfure, one in which only Herr Sfraus could express himself. Affer safisfying himself fhaf he could make no furfher improvemenfs, he resolved fo fake fhe painfing fo Herr Brugard, fhe famous arf dealer, and gef his opinion of if. I-Ie quickly puf on his faffered coaf and, wrap- ping fhe picfure in a piece of canvas, sfarfed on his way, hopeful and eager. Arriving af Herr Brugard's shop, he fimidly enfered. Recognizing fhe man in fhe chair by fhe window as fhe famous arf dealer himself, I-Ierr Sfraus caufiously approached. Do you wish fo see me? asked Brugard, Yes, answered I-Ierr Sfraus in a quavering voice. I wish you fo do me a favor: if will mean a greaf deal fo me and if will fake you only a few minufes. I would like you fo look af fhis picfure and fell me, honesfly and frankly, whaf you fhink of if. You see--if is fhe Iasf painfing I shall ever be able fo do. Very well, answered Herr Brugard kindly. Unwrapping fhe painfing, he sfared af if silenfly for a long fime. Awe and wonder passed over his feafures. Finally, furn- ing foward I-Ierr Sfraus, wifh fears in his eyes, he said: This painfing is a masferpiecel If musf hang wifh only fhe greafesfl Wifh a reverenf sigh, as if peace had suddenly descended on him, Herr Sfraus sank down, a crumbled heap, before his picfure of FuIfiIImenf. MARY I-IERSHENSTEIN, '39, autumn If fhe aufumn of life is half as lovely As fhe aufumn of earfh, I shall nof grieve For fhe vanished days of a rapfurous spring Nor beg for one momenf's reprieve. If winfer should come, I am confenf To leave my life in fhe hands of a God Whose mind could conceive fhe aufumn of earfh And sfar if wifh asfers and goldenrod. FANNIE MILLER, '39, decorum The friumph of I should over I would. VIRGINIA OPPENI-IEIMER, '39, forfy