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

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Reserves, ,was called back to active duty. Cathy, he had said, our own happiness will have to wait just for a little while, and then I'll come back to you. I'l1 be glad to iight so that our children can grow up in a happy world. His words had consoled Cathy. Before she realized what was happening, Dick ,was on his way to Korea. f Tm: 1951 SILVER SANDS And. now it was raining again. To- morrow Dick was coming home. They would be at Mass together as they had been so often in the past. She slowly took the telegram from the table be- side her. Though the words were a blur, she knew all too well what they were: We regret to inform you that Private Richard McNealis . . . The rain fell faster. 'k 'k 'A' ERE I SIT admiring your puzzled figure. You have caused me no end of trouble, but there you sit storing back at me with a blank expression. Furthermore, you make no effort whatsoever to explain yourself. Have you nothing to offer in defense of these accusing words! ' You're impossible! You have no feeling for me or any- one else. You merely accept the cutting words and retain 4 school. that plain-Jane look. Figures like yours have kept the paper factories in business and people like me in late after I stab you with my pencil and curse you with my eyes, but still I am not satisfied with your figure. Your lanky lines, crooked posture, and enormous capacity are beyond my comprehension. Everywhere I look I see ports of you staring back at me. I put up with your sarcastic grin and smirking shrewdness five days out of every week, and even then you haunt me over week-ends. You bore me, tire me, and make me with I had never met you. But why am I arguing with you! Well yes, I suppose I do get some satisfaction out of it. My chest does feel a little lighter and yet my heart feels heavy. I suppose I am being mean and inconsiderate. After all, it im't your fault that you have a figure like a twisted wire. But you irritate me so,' it makes me very angry to think that such a confusing little you could cause me so much anxiety. Oh well, I suppose I'll just never understand-you and your geo- metric figure! MARIE McDs1zMo'r'r, '53 11

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'PHE 1951 S1I.vER SANDS RAIN 0N HER HEART ICK HAD left two months ago. Cathy remembered how it had rained that afternoon when he board- ed the train that was to take him away from her. She remembered, too, how the rain had tit the mood of her gloomy heart. How sad she had been to sec him go! How she had missed him in the last eight weeks! Cathy went over the wonderful times they had had together. She had met Dick at a church dance, and he had asked her to go out with him a few weeks later. She had accepted readily, for she had always thought he was nice and so handsome. They had gone to the movies that Saturday night. After the show they had laughed and joked between mouth- fuls of hamburger. They had so much fun that night, and a few months later they were going steady. Their lirst kiss! How thrilled she had been! She had never realized how gentle Dick could be. She smiled now at the times they had gone swim- ming with the crowd and how mad she had been when he wouldn't stop dunking her. That Christmas morn- ing when they had gone to the Nativ- ity Mass and received Holy Commun- ion together was a precious memory. She would never forget how they had looked at each other upon leaving the By Jean Gravelle, '51 church, suddenly realizing the forti- fication their love for each other had received. The next night-her lovely new gown, Dick's handsomeness in his rented tuxedo, his whispered words, You are the sweetest fiower of all as he pinned a beautiful corsage on her shoulder-all this spelled the won- der of her Senior Prom. How proud she had been to show all her friends at college the lovely compact he gave her for Christmas with From Dick to Cathy engraved on the back! He was always so thoughtful. At the january sleighing party, a stranger would have thought they were ten years old. That wonderful night in May when he told! her he had a surprise for her-could she ever forget? It was tl1e twenty-seventh of the month, and it was the most beauti- ful ring Cathy had ever seen. Dick had said, T hat is, if you want me . . . As if she could or would ever say no. They had made plans that night to be married the next spring. She recalled now the love in his eyes when she had shown him her diploma. And what fun they had had at the mad round of graduation parties! Then in June, on a far-off peninsula in the Pacific, war had erupted again. The communists were on the march in Korea. Dick, being in the Army

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THE 1951- SILVER SANDS CULTURE nys ff AD ALWAYS said, Everyone should have a hobby. And he was right, I suppose. Anyhow he thinks so. Dad is a great collector of artg in fact, our house is so full of art that I sometimes wonder why some of this so-called culture doesn't rub off on me. However, at present I am inter- ested in an altogether different hobby -very ditferent. This hobby answers to the name of Johnny. Noyv I wouldn't go so far as to say that Johnny is uncultured. I mean, after all, he is star halfback of the local football team. But, of course, Dad doesn't seem to think that playing football demands much in the way of artistic talent. Can you imagine any one's dreaming such a thing! Well, this is all leading up to the night that I was to have my first date with johnny. He just had to impress Dad. If only he didn't say anything, Dad wouldn't know that johnny was illiterate. fHe's not really-well, not exactly, but you know how football players are.J So, I thought if Johnny didn't talk at all, maybe Dad would think he was the quiet, intellectual type. On that memorable evening when the doorbell finally rang, I hurried to answer with a prayer in my heart. By Mary Ormsby, '52 Oh, johnny, please let Dad like you l I opened the door and there he stood. I smiledg he smiled back. Oh no! My hero lost a front tooth in that big game todayl Oh well, if he just keeps his mouth closed . . . I brought Johnny into the living- room to meet Dad. I thought to my- self, This is it I After the brief introduction, I heard Dad say to Johnny, How would you like to see a few of my prize paintings and draw- ings, son P I knew this opening line by heart, for Dad said it to every boy who called for me. Poor johnny! The only drawings he knew about were the usual rathes at school for the football team's uniforms. Nevertheless, Johnny, always the perfect gentleman, let Dad lead him into the study where the masterpieces were kept. Johnny, silently suffering through Dad's little explanation of each picture, really tried to look inter- ested anyhow. Then Dad turned sud- denly to a color creation that had a place of honor among the others and asked, Well, my boy, what do you think of this one? My dream man looked at the speci- fied painting and brilliantly replied, That's nice. It's a . . . a . . . R . . . Rembrandt, ain't it ? Oh no! What a blunder! Even I