Chesterton High School - Singing Sands Yearbook (Chesterton, IN)

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THE GRADUATE TXVENTXZQNE Qllaaa Q ruplterg The sun had been shining brightly all day. It had been warm and the atmosphere was the kind that made everybody drowsy and sleepy. Just betore sundown, I went out to lind a place where I might rest awhile, and found it in the shade of a friendly old oak tree. Every- thing was quiet. I was left alone to the world and my thoughts. I sat thinking of the days that had gone and the days that were to come, and wondered where I would be before long and what would happen to me. I asked the same question regarding my classmates. I thought it would be interesting to know what would happen to them after they had left the shelter of the old school house. How long I sat and thought ot' these things I do not know. I do remember that everything was now dark. The daylight had vanished far below the hori- zon and the sky was dotted with stars. I was dazed and looked around. But I soon remein- bered that I had gone out to seek rest and had fallen asleep. That did not seem to be all that had happened, because I found out that I had been dreaming. My dream was very strange. It has come back to me several times and I have wondered if it will ever come true. As it concerned you, my dear friends and class- mates, I shall endeavor to relate it to you as I remember it: I dreamed that with a guide, I was traveling through a large mountain range which con- tained many caves. We came to one cave that seemed to be different from the others in that there were people living in it. My guide told me that it was a very interesting place, and asked me if I wanted to go through it. He said that I might see some people that I knew, liv- ingin this curious abode. I was very much sur- prised to hear this and waited impatiently to enter. When we came into the cave I wondered why it was known by that name. To me it seemed more like a park than anything else. Birds were singing merrily and flowers were bloom- ing everywhere. I had many questions to ask and was about to consult my guide when I discovered to my amazement that my power of speech had been taken away from me. lHow did it happen?J I could not say a word. So in silence I walked on, until we came to a large stone where my guide stopped. The stone was very high and steep and its sides were as smooth as glass. On one side of it there words were inscribed: Ye that a1'e wise may climb with ease. This interested me so much that I looked up to see if there was any one on top of the stone. When, lo! and behold! there sat Mildred Dillingham, Grace Frame and Edith Bihl talking Latin as fast as their tongues could move, What they were saying I cannot tell you, as I had no knowledge Ot' Latin and could not translate their conversation. For that matter I do not think anybody could, at the rate they were going. Perhaps they themselves did not know what they were talking about. They might have seen me coming, at a distance, and want- ing tc- show me that they were making use of their knowelge, started to say whatever came to their minds first. I noticed that after I had craned my neck for about ten minutes in a vain effort to see them, that they did not care to look down at me, so I motioned to my guide to move on. We had not gone very far before we stopped again. Here I saw Ethel Bull sitting alone talking to herself. Upon venturing closer, I heard that she was composing a poem. She was trying to write her masterpiece. I was surprised to see that she still retained the desire to make poetry that she had when she was attending the C. H. S. I was not the only one Watching her: there were many other peo- ple visiting the cave, but this did not seem to bother her. She was saying, Now let me see, what rhymes with 'school'? 'Pool, fool, tool.' No those won't do. Oh! dear! when will I get this done? I knew that I could not help her out because my brain did not run in that direction so I left her to her own fate. We journeyed on until we came to a cross- road. Again my interest was directed to some one sitting at the end of the road, so we stop- ped again. There on a pretty spot of grass sat Helen Ruggles. She was writing letters, as usual. Many books were lying on the desk at which she sat, some were on the ground and one was on her lap. By her side stood her faithful attendant tor should I say serv- ant'?I Ralph Greene, waiting to mail that letter to the other one, picking up books, looking at pictures, and ready to do what she demanded. I soon learned that they did not need me there so we continued to walk around the cave.

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TXVENTY-TWO THE GRADUATE Our next stopping place was beside Gladys Eggleston and Gertrude D1'ake. They were talking very rapidly. At Iirst I did not know what their conversation was about, but when I saw that they each had a piece of tissue paper about six inches square, I readily guessed that the topic of discussion was t'Teacher's Exam. Questions. They were asking and answering the questions. I stood and listened for a while, and before I left I heard Gertrude say in her disgusted manner, Well I don't think those are fair at all. What do we know about that? Oh, I'm so mad. Gladys' answer was the usual giggle. On the same grassy plot not far from where Helen sat I saw Lydia Brockmiller. She was engaged in studying the essentials of history. She stood beside a large bookcase, which con- tained many volumes on Modern and Mediae- val History. She seemed to be very busy. One book after another she took out, opened, examined, and put back. It amused me quite a little to see her pull out all the books in the Case before she discovered that the one she wanted was on the ground at her feet. This discouraged her so very much that she slam- med the door to the bookcase, and walked away leaving the mysteries of the Middle Ages to be solved by some one else. I thought that I had stayed in the cave long enough and so pointed to the path that turned from the heart of the strange place that I had entered and motioned to my guide to go on. l felt, that I had seen all that there was to see in the cave, but I had not. There was more yet. O11 one side of the path which we had just entered I saw a beautiful lake. It was not very large and the water was still and as clear as glass. A little out of curiosity and a little for the sake of the beauty of it, I went to look at the pond. Imagine my surprise when, as I looked down into the depths of the lake, I saw an image of myself. I seemed to have a XFN F piece of paper in 1ny hand. My mouth was moving and although I did not hear my own voice, I hurried away as fast as I could. I have often thought afterwards that I had cer- tainly been put away in a pretty safe place where I could sing t?r all I wanted to, dis- turbing nothing but the fishes in the bottom of the lake. We were now on our way out of the cave but there were still many things to see. The next person that I saw was Edward Peterson. Beside him sat Miss Linstad. She had just finished dictating a long story to him. He had been informed that he had to typewrite it in less than five minutes and that it must be perfect, or something dreadful would happen to him. Poor Edward! at his side was an eraser the size of a brick but he did not have time to use it. He struck the keys with such vigor that the whole machine toppled over on him several times. When I had watched this performance for a short time and had seen the expression in his face, I thought I had better go or I might hear something that might not sound very well, so we moved on. Near the exit from the cave, I made my last stop. There stood Galen Brown. She was busy washing dishes. It made me think of the C. H. S. where she had learned to wash dishes with such excellency, and I saw that she was still on the job. She did not look as happy as usual, but it seemed as if her task must be done and she was there to do it. I noticed, however, that Galen was not only washing dishes but she was cooking something. I went up to the stove and discovered that she was making Coddled Apples. Friends, here is the story as I remember it. Whether it will ever come true I am not ready to say. But, I do hope that none of you will think tha.t I have dealt wrongly with you, because dreams are only dreams and nobody is responsible for them. HELEN REESE. .-was V ,Q'5l.:'-'tts 51,3-kigfgj ,flfffgf is .sl