Central YMCA High School - Centralite Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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!fpfk-!:,!e2cfk!-aka!-Adf ' ' ' 0 MA ' P 5 .ff 'f 'l 6 I qi- if Qi 'I 4 Q J 4 J 'l Q. 4 1 C 'l I O 5 . LITERARY BACHELOR BAITING The bachelor, poor creature, is blamed for everything. He is the most hounded creature among men. He is pursued and alternately hated by both sexes. The very young creatures gaze at him with interesting eyes, older eligible ladies throw just gobs and gobs of pure sentiment at him and the married ladies regard him as a lure for wandering husbands, while the married ladies who have borne the yoke a couple of decades gaze upon him with that Ohfyou-lovelyfman look. 'ii The married lady seems to be at the height of happiness when she is matchmaking, when she is leading some poor benighted bachelor into the meshes of matrimony. For instance, Mrs. M. is a married lady. She has been married quite a while and the enamel has worn off. One day a lady relative comes to visit her.' The lady relative is single, but willing. The ladies put their heads together and get real intimate. The upshot is that all the bachelor friends are dragged over the coals and the one scorched the least is decided on. Friend husband is taken into the plot. He must invite the bachelor friend. If he remonstrates he is squelched thoroughly with such an account of himself that any jury would convict him of any crime. The bachelor is invited for dinner. The house is agog. Everything must be just so, plot the two thoroughly happy ladies. Meanwhile friend husband is left to shift for himself. The day comes. The eligible lady prepares the meal with her own tiny hands and a couple of cook books. The house is dusted and scrubbed, the incense burners are set out and filled, the lamps are adorned with orange shades, and the table set in the best silver. The bachelor comes and is cordially greeted, introduced and gushed over until he has the finest opinion of himself. Friend husband is not allowed near him and at the table he fthe husband, not the bachelorj is kicked, and not lightly in the shins when' ever he attempts to get a word in. The lights are dimmed, the dinner is served to the tune of the admiring lady friend. Great stress is laid on the fact that she prepared it all herself. After the coffee, hubby is drawn off to the movies, or some place, and the couple is left alone, amid the orange colored shades and incense. A few weeks later everyone is so surprised when the engagement is announced. Another sad case. Fred and Jack are close friends. Fred in a spirit of recklessness gets married. Whenever he meets jack, he gives him a glowing account of his married bliss, the wonderful home, the wonderful wife, and the meals. They are like the ambrosia of the gods, jack is led to believe, and is invited to one of these wonderful Page seventy . I .

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LITERARY

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,ft o 1 o LITERARY meals. When he comes, everything is at its best. Fred's wife is wonderfully affable and accomodating. She helps Fred into his smoking jacket, brings him his pipe and slippers, and gathers up the papers he scatters about. Her whole life seems to be bent upon pleasing Fred. During the much bepraised meal the words of the devoted couple are as sweet as the honey on the table. Jack sees and believes. He hurries out and goes to his room with a gnawing feeling of what he has been missing. Yes, this single life is all the bunk. He must get himself a wife. He does. Now the only time he eats at home is when it is too cold to go out to the restaurant, or there is a waiters' strike on. These are some of the most popular methods of tying down that roaming, restless tribe called bachelors. Married men envy them, young men in love pity them, young ladies gush over them, and married ladies, unless out matchmaking, think them fiends in human form who lure their husbands to ruin. Yet, in spite of all this, the bachelors flourish, a happy-go-lucky race, with no one to tell them to wear rubbers when it rains, to match samples of georgette, to put the cat out at night, or to take their shoes off at three o'clock in the morning when coming into the house. VICTOR HAVEL. PLAYING THE GAME Yes, sometimes we argue and think we are right, To get to the top is the one goal in sight. We push and we trample, we strive to succeed, To get to the top is our one only creed. We start out determined to win the big prize, And give not a thought to the way that we rise. To beat the next man and to crush him like stone, To climb to the top is our goal-this alone. Yet-what profit the glory, what profit the fame, If we find at the top that we're covered with shame? A. J, GRossMAN. Page seventyfone . :-'F l u ii fl' in QI I' .I 3- N. ,o Y 'r 5' v 1,0 1 5. 3. gg. Q. V U 1 .O xl L Nl W' P 5. -.I .IQ .,i, . 3. is A E' S 4:4- 3 K l - -- -..fPi2w-fx