Central High School - Centralian Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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THE STAFF ON A SEARCH FOR MATERIAL

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THE- SIMPLE LIFE You awake with eyes just closed in sleep A period of four hours or less; Then seize your watch, and in it peep, And see six minutes and a half to dress. Now devour in gulps your breakfast hot. With eyes glued to your English Lit. Then chase the car with gloomy thought. And open your book as down you sit— You have this ride for the “children’s hour,” The only time you may reserve For your child-like studies one and four: Then hustle to school, and brace your nerve To kneel before your teacher’s kind And beg their pictures for this book. You feel they somehow have divined Your wish to use instead—a look. Then thumps the bell—you’ve plead in vain. Your wish to ‘make the book complete;” You sprint the hall with might and main. Yet reach your room just twelve feet late. Through all five hours you wildly scramble; Between each two you work the 'phone. So far this joyful, trance-like ramble Depicts the morning’s play alone. ADS AND They say Old Job was freighted with a whole box-car of care; That the drug-stores kept no liniment, in patience did he bear. His wife she pressed for Faster hats, the girls had matinee fads: But Job can’t fill a bob-tailed flush. When it comes to gettin’ “ads!’’ There are seventeen stenographers, before the manager’s door. With fourteen sub-department clerks, and travelingmcn a score. “Can’t give you anything this month.” with funeral visage sad. He’s turned you down! Then on your knees, you Beg him for an ad!” Lunch, as a word, conveys no meaning. Your duty is to “stand and wait” Until you sort and count the gleaning Of stulY that’s come, although ’tis late. The photographer’s shop is visited now. Then back to school with nineteen proofs; The engraver is only a mile or so— To go there now is what behooves. Your calling list holds the printer’s name; So drop around, and ask results— As the rest weren’t ready—he’s the same, Unmoved by coaxing or insults. School-ward wend your blithesome way. And ’spite of noise you sit you down. And get to work without dclav : But tall weeds grow where thoughts you’ve sown. To home now soon you rush for supper: A blessed respite from all gloom. Then climb the stairs to regions upper, And grind away within your room. It may be one, it may he two, W hen the Sand Man comes to close the strife. And you to him in sleep construe The beauties of the Simple 1 ife. C. C. B. FANCIES “One thousand copies—space the cheapest—big high school, vou cry, Best homes in Kansas City reached—each pupil there does buy!” “We’ve cut out all of that this month.” he says—he s lying had. For in the other fellow's paper, You have seen his dinky “ad! So Job, old bov. I’ve come along; I’m sorry to displace you. You’ve four-flushed on us all so long. I hate now to disgrace you. But when it comes to patience, and never getting mad. You’re just a brush-league novice—why, You never got an “ad!” E. W. P.

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