Central Middle School - Ceejay Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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L L fX fEF' ?iII E?f.I4.I iI l?I?I '-' 2' .ri v rhmfml' ..l Ydii-'hail' Iillrim lIQIIEIIEE-ElliillliliilgihlilIEELEIEIIHIEQIIKEI I kj Farewell Freshmen Lois M. RUSSELL, '25 Second Prize Second Year Poem Ah, well do I lemember The day I first enrolled, When I came to dear old Central And around her halls I strolled, When first I learned her customs, Took part in social whirls, Or made myself unhappy Forgetting the names of girls, 'Twas then as a verdant Subbie, Through hours of toil and strife, I learned the many lessons Of a green, green Freshman's life. Now I'm here as only a Freshman Thinks that he can live on earth, Furnishing awe for a Subbie, But for every Sophomore, mirth. The studies now are harder, We have less time for fun, And the faculty's waxing bolder, Our troubles have just begun. But as the year grows shorter, Though our hats are in the ring , We're 'fraid we'll be a Sophomore, Without knowing a blessed thing. Little CBobbie Jones DOROTHEA PICKETT, '25 Little Bobby Jones fMay his tribe increaselj ,fe--A af, , if 753 3 52 f Qi .I M ff ff Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw among the shadows of his room, Making it frightful, like a graveyard or tomb, , X -f,-f An angel writing in a book of black. la E ii -N' h lil, ,LJ fi l I ' ., fl X ff ', M151 Fi l X nilljllll imgfleegii mm 7-N.n.m Boldness was one thing that Bobby didn't lack, And to the presence in the room, he said, 'tW'at'cher 'ritin? The vision raised its head, and answered, The names of those who are not turning Away from the paths of essential learning. 'tAin't I on it? asked Bobby. Nay, not so, Replied the angel. Bobby spoke more low, But cheerily still, and said, I'll tell yer then, Jot me down with th' Guys that studies Latin. The angel wrote and vanished. The next night It came again with a great awakening light, And showed the names of those whom knowledge had blessed, And Lo! Little Bobby's name led all the rest! EEFIEEISEIEEIQillliilliiiliiilfiilFifi!5322IlilIHIE!IZIIEEGEIIHiil!-ll2ii4!il!IEZiHlii!II!3!EIEiEEREliiliiiiiiiilliliiklifl I Page Eighty-hw

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f'X - Shadows MARGARET MAY, '25 Second Prize Second Year Story It was just a shabby, dilapidated, little house standing back from the roadside. The snow Huttering softly down seemed to shut the lonely dwelling away from the world. An elm, creaking and groaning, stood sentinel-like by the rusty, iron gate. The wind which whistled and shrieked down the chimney with a voice almost human, drove the snow before it in fury. Inside sat poor, old Nanny Webster. Life had been hard for Nanny these last few years and now visions of the poorhouse loomed above her horizon. She was scantily clad and each gust of wind made her shiver and draw her worn shawl closer about her AQ ffZZ 44 ,fa 5, fzg fa 7 ff Wag: :furor rm as-L i 2 4 X i , 1 ff ,. ,f f K QVQIX X X231 E xy A ii? .. ,' y' E X WWI 1 E f 1 f 44.1 , iw ld f- fl r if .. ' shoulders. The fire was low, but when the fitful wind came rushing down the chimney it brightened up a little. If, during one of these rare flashes, you glanced quickly you could see the bareness, the poverty of the furnishings. Everything was as neat as wax, however. Deepening dusk made things seem gloornier and shabbier. The old fashioned clock was ticking the seconds away. Each succeeding second pressed a heavier burden on Nanny's heart as it brought her that much nearer the poorhouse. Yes, her neighbors could no longer care for her. Well, she was glad her folks were all gone so they wouldn't know. But she thought of Dan the poor boy she had kept during those long, hard years. She always hoped that Dan would come back. Growing restless she walked to an old fashioned horse-hair trunk and put in some of her treasures. Taking out a small picture she dropped into a chair and gazed at it by the light of the tire. It was just ten years ago that this boy had left her to seek his fortune. Full of hope he promised he'd soon be back. He told her he would soon have a home and she could live with him. But not one word had she heard of him for so long. He is dead, she mused. He would not forget me. Presently her feelings overcame her and the tears trickled down her wrinkled old cheeks. This erased the aching of her heart and she dropped off to sleep. Harkl aknock! Trembling like a leaf she tottered to the door and lifted the latch. Hello Mrs. Webster, a letter for you, I was in town today and I thought I had better bring it to youf' cried a. cheery voice which she recognized as that of a friendly neigh- bor. Taking the letter she slowly read it. She turned pale and almost fell. Is it bad news? the kind neighbor asked. Oh, NO! Read it,l' and she handed him the letter. Dear Mother Webster: At last I have a nice home. Preceding the last few years I have been like a gypsy wandering from city to city, state to state. My neglect in writing has been inexcusable but you will forgive me, won't you, dear Mother? Now my good news. My wife is mighty lonesome living on the farm miles from the city. Now, won't you come and keep us company? We both can never repay your kindness to me during my sickness. I hope to see you soon. I am enclosing a money order for your railroad fare, Lovingly, Dan. The next day Nanny left for Dan,s. As the sleigh drew away from her home she turned to catch one last glimpse. Ah! Every nook and cranny was indelibly pressed upon her heart. At last she resolutely turned on the drab yesterday and faced the bright tomorrow. VPIILEEEIEIIIE!IEIEIIQIEEIEMHIEIIIEIIEZIIEHISIIEIIEIIESHEI!HiEMi!IIEHIEZIHiEf2lI!H!SI!SiilgliiliilliilllgiiilliiliigII?I I urn' Eighty-four

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fQ IIa, , , , ,, N IQi921Ei!SH!F55IZEIIIEQIHIWBTIHIIEIIEJ lEllie!llElm!!lislihlglwltglHIIIEEIEAIISSE W ,,,I CR:-anting a House MARY WOLF, '26 Second Prize First Year StorY Oh no, Sir, cried a sharp voice from behind the door, I would not consider any- thing over S15.00 a month. But my dear Miss Sharp, said the suave voice of the salesman, we do not have any houses listed for less than 330.00 a month. Mr. Keene, who had heard this con- versation, came into the room. He saw an elderly woman, entirely made up of black alpaca, elbows, and sharp angles. On a red and exceedingly sharp nose rested a pair of square spectacles. On top of her head was what might have been a hat once, but since it had been made over every year for many seasons, it seemed to blush from the very roots of its two green apples and three blue flowers every time it saw one of its own species. Mr. Keene, the real estate salesman, had seen many freaks in his experi- ences, but never one equal to this. I will absolutely pay no more, she repeated, and fxfylff, ' the two green apples bobbed emphatically. KQ Effgqg How about looking at some of the houses, Miss Mx Zffcvifuf -gi' Sharp? Mr. Keene asked. Yjl dw E So they were soon spinning along the boulevard. fl' ' ., 1' It must have a sewing room and upper and lower hall l W f S - ' , ' 'JN h ll' -3 E a butler's and common pantry, a kitchen with a stove and a House ro lm I 2 dutch oven, ten bedrooms, a double parlor, a state and LEY . . . . -xv G' , private dining room, and quarters for the servants. This fl :rii'157i5 l you know would be just like father's in Virginia. Father ' H111 ' died, and, well I should say straightened circumstances, - compelled us to sell. We sold for one thousand dollars you -asf. 1 , , . ' s A Y-xr know that is quite a price. Well, it was Just snapped up. fllai' V' gm, PMN, Sister Amelia,-she is the beauty of the family,-had gone on a Sunday School picnic with Mr. Boroughs,-he was the man who bought the house-and he had called on us one night,-he said on some busi- ness about cattle, but we knew it was just Amelia,-then, you know, we needing the money and all that, he might have bought the house too!-Amelia and he being friends you know,- Yes, yes, I see, I see, said Mr. Keene, cutting short these reminiscences. Father left some bonds and notes, so we three girls get 540.00 a month altogether. We decided we could spend 315.00 for a housef' Here is a residence we are renting for your price, said Mr. Keene, pointing to a large and gloomy house, on a hill, in the suburbs of the city. UNO one is willing to rent that house because they say that it is haunted. It is very silly indeed, but-l' Oh, interrupted Miss Sharp, how wonderful! You know, in the South, we never felt quite respectable unless our houses are haunted. Were there any murders there? Why yes, I believe there is a story to that effect. Perfect, exclaimed Miss Sharp. The thing we hated to part with most, in our old home, was the ghost of Great-Uncle Charles, it gave the house such an air of tradition and respectability. llFIIlfEfl?IIIElE51IE!Iii!liiliiiiliiilFill!EIIQZIIEIIIEIIEIIZIIEZEEEIl133iilllIIii!IIQI5ZlC535ii!IIIEEEIliiiSEBIiElCiZlZ?Eli?2iElltE!lI!5l2F Page Eighty-six