Catholic High School For Girls - Silver Sands Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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THERE WILL BE TIME . . IT WAS night. Down by the wharf the rain beat relentlessly on the boat anchored at its mooring. She stood on the deck bundled in a man- nish raincoat, her face wet and shin- ing. Chris tried to remember. Once they had been a part of this lake-she and Bob-a part of its glistening waters. Chris 'could still see him just as she had always remembered him on the lake-she pictured his skill in rowing, that perfect diving form, that gorgeous tan. How she had admired him! She became his favorite satel- lite. He taught her to swim, and row, and she, in return, often read to him as they basked in the sun on the yvhite pebble beach. He went away that fall to college. Chris missed him, but always 'she thought of his winter vacation. She had a surprise for him-she could ice skate. Chris had taught herself dusky afternoonson the frozen lake. Now, finally, Bob was home. Bob, come down to our lake and fshe grew prouder at the wordsj skate with me. The twinkle in his brown eyes, his By Marion J. Morris, '49 delight at her efforts was reward enough. His encouraging words- how she cherished them now-his last gift. Ice on the far side was thin, the water, deep. No, Bob, look out -her warning came too late. Chris -she could still hear his help- less cry as he disappeared. The ice pinned him beneath its cold spread. He hadn't even a chance. Chris leaned over the side rail now gazing far down to penetrate the greedy, turbulent water. She had to leave. The car was waiting to take her home-to the new house away from here. She lingered a moment and then started the long climb up the sloping street. Someday she would come back. Chris and the lake could be friends again. She paused halfway up the steep incline and turned. One day she would no longer see Bob's face in every wave. Chris could smile and no tears would come rushing to her eyes. Till then-she hurried away into the rain and the night. Someday she would forgive the waters for capturing him-her Bob, her dearest brother.

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I 'm The Youngest H, HOW painful those words can be to you if you are that unfor- tunate, insignificant, person usually called the youngest , At the table, for instance, you wait patiently for an opening, only to be nipped right in the bud of your opening sentence. When finally, there is an opening, fwhich is probably due at the moment to the fact that everyone's mouth is occupied with foodj you uncover that bolt of atomic information, which you thought would result in an explosion if you had been forced to keep it in any longer. As you sit there seething, for everyone has given just the cus- tomary nod, you dream up fantastic situations, every one of which por- trays your family hanging on your every word. Your reverie is usually encroached upon by Mother who would like to know of what you're dreaming, as your fork as yet has not reached your mouth. Then, the fateful night arrives- By Joan Herron, '49 all eyes are turned to you. To what do you owe this unexpected attention? Oh, of course, something has been done detrimental to family rules. Did you do it? Certainly! Who else but you could be capable of such imbecil- ity? Who else but you would forget to lock the front door, hang the tele- phone receiver up, or turn the oven off, and so on through a succession of your Cto themj insuiferable habits? After murmuring your apologies to each accuser-rather abuser, you sit there and wait for the next time that your family will know that you too are a member of the household. At the same time, you hope that when they do, it will not be the result of some misdemeanor on your part. Well, grin and bear it. Some day when your brothers' and sisters' hair is beginning to look as if they had just brushed against one of the blackboards at Hallahan, you can remind them, Pm the youngest . 'lr 'A' ul' It's fun! To be a musician And live in music land, To follow all the instruments, The wave of our maestro's hand. It's fun! To sit and practice On violin, so sweet, Especially when you overcome That amateurish squeak. BARBARA GLENNON, '51

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The boisterous tinkling of his bell jolted Mandy from her reverie. She quickly crossed the bustling street and paused only for a moment to gaze into a dreamy dress shop window. No one would have guessed the excitement concealed inside her. She had a mission. The post othce was her goal. Her last ray of hope in American manhood depended on - f ... .- fig xy. - . A Wy- - 1 -.HI I . I. pw, .'W 4 5 V :l ,.5'6:ff ' , D' . ' .V-. IIVI. 1. -- gn f -Us. .lI V IV I I s. . ,-.,...II - .fl- ., I I I.I..l .II , . , I,. . I ..,I I .. .f 1.5 .g ,,. , I- 4 -,wwf . 5.7 1 Is ., -Q .. t ,.4...- ,1 .. I I. I..- .I .3.f:.I Nigga I f ., I.I.jf., .. I ., .-V .-gp I,-1 .. ' , . ,.:-:,,,e..cf4,gI:. fr- 4 'NI v, . ' .f -1 f -. ,-,.-gs-...ew-.-V..-- ,.-'. . . ' - .. ...1. . .- -.-t. --:u. 4.44 . -.- . .. .I ,V Im, . I II, -.,I..I, II .,-,. II.,.I.,I, I. -, - .vT ,- T 'HA .' . .' ' I fe' 1.1--'.' V' .+:'4:f 1 ' f' ' 'F lT- 1 A what she received on arrival. 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