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

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1 . In the Shadow of HALLAHAN MUST I leave you Alma Mater, after twelve happy years? Re- member my first days in school? I learned my alphabet in rhythm with your basketball cheers and played at recess listening to the chattering of Hallahan girls drifting out to me from your open cafeteria windows. Yes, I am one of the lucky few who have been part of Hallahan from the beginning. I am a graduate of the Cathedral School which comprises the first iioor of a building, the rest of which is occupied by the high school. Remember how I would crane my neck to get a peek into Room 101 and Room lll? By the time I had reached the fifth grade I had become a Cathedral cheer- leader. It was a Hallahan cheerleader who taught me to perform in spirited fashion. Our basketball team was in tip-top shape as a result of practice with your famous varsity. Even then one was eager to be identified with basketball in the hope that whim she came to Hallahan she might make Alma Mater's great team. Remember the time I as in the sixth grade? I wore your uniform theng only it had a gold C.G.S. embroidered on it. I was going on an errand to the main odice in the Hallahan build- By A. Barbara Cosmo, '49 ing 3 it was at the change of classes. I had left the Cathedral building and was striving vainly to get through the throngs crowding the second floor Hallahan, Suddenly authority grab- bed me and pulled me from the line. I was petrified. Sister gave me a green slip and told me to write my name on it. I wonderingly did as I was directed. Sister took the slip and told me to walk on the right side of the corridor if I wished to avoid an- other detention. Then Sister took a. good look at me and laughed. Never mind, she said just remember the green slip when you come to Halla- han. Long before I became a first year student I knew every nook and corner of Hallahan, You were a part of me even then, Alma Mater. When I be- came a freshman I was overjoyed. Now I was a true Hallahanite. The emblem I wore may have been green but I was not. I already knew the school customs and ideals. Every time I pass by Room 1 in the main building I see the word Cath- edral above the door. That title tells me that my parish was one of the contributors to the establishment of a room in the John W. Hallahan, Continued on Page 52

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PAPA, by his own admission, was once a Beau Brummel with blond hair, blue eyes and rosy cheeks, and the ladies had to be driven forcibly from his mother's doorsteps. fMamma refuses to corroborate this wild talej. His eyes are still wonderfully blue, but now there are only barely per- ceptible traces of his fabulous beauty. However, if the years have filched from him his youthful charm, they have replaced it with a magnanimous heart and mind, and he has created a deep and lasting influence over his children. I can remember well my first trip to the seashore with the blue-and- white sky overhead, the sunny sands on which Mamma had us youngsters seated, and the vast expanse of spar- kling waters. Out there in the deep somewhere, Papa was frisking around. Mamma always referred to him as a fish, Mamma herself was inclined to pick her way down to the ocean, test it cautiously with her big toe, and then ease herself gently into its waters. This was a source of amuse- ment to Papa g and feeling reckless with the power of the elements, he crept underwater upon Mamma who was gingerly finishing her testing routine, and pulled her in with a plopl The water must have been all of two feet, and Mamma was plainly visible to view, but somehow some water must have entered her eyes and mouth. To Mamma, this s Tin: 1949 Snvzn Sarms was drowning! She rescued herself from the danger, gasped her way to safety on the beach, and then broke into an angry squawking. Her impress- ionable chicks sat wide-eyed and open- cared as Papa's hilarity faded to a grin and died amidst futile apologies and explanations. We went home in- stilled with a new sense of danger, and Papa went home with his tail dragging and his ears down. To this day, though maturity has erased many childish fears, none of us will become so familiar with the ocean as to cultivate the art of swimming. We all follow Mamma's routine at the seashore. When our only boy went overseas to war, we were not so con- cerned with his being shot on land as we were with the fact that he might die on the waters. Life with Papa has developed in Mamma the skills of the plumber, electrician, and general maintenance man. Every summer our screens are erected according to a pattem. It will be Memorial Day, or some equally rare and precious day of leisure, and Papa. will be contem- plating pleasant relaxation while Mamma calculates means of employ- ing this source of available labor. So Papa finds himself in the cellar where he totes the screens while Mamma issues the orders. When the screens are assembled in the back of the house, Mamma considers Papa's ability suf- ficent to dust them with little inter- N a .