Christopher Columbus High School - Anchor Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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Each sang his melody, each, a differenf air. Oh, some fried fo be Kafe Smifhs and Bing Crosbies, ofhers fhoughf fhemselves opera singers, buf mosf of fhem were confenf fo hum a liffle fune fheir mofhers had faughf fhem many years before. And ofhers . . . Don'+ give me fhaf. I fold you fo give me fhe pencil, didn'f I? Suppose I don'f wanf fo? l'm nof asking you do you wanf fo. l'm felling you fo give me fhe pencil! Go on! Come on oufside if you're so smarf . . . Wha'I are you, a wise guy? So whaf? So l'm a wise guy. Do somefhing abouf if . . .' Yeal17 Well . . . if's a good fhing you're shorfer fhan me. Oh yeah? And ofhers, freshmen . . .female freshmen . . . So like I was saying Johnny phones me and says he wanfs fo meef me af fhe Square. You know Johnny, don'+ you? . . . giggle . . . giggle . . . giggle . . . laugh of a freshman. . . giggle, giggle, giggle. Boy, do I know Johnny! He asked me fo bring anofher girl, so I broughf Kay . . . Oh her? She's such a . . . I don'f know. Marie fold me fhal' one nighf . . . l know. Carol fold me. Buf anyway we mef fhem af fhe Square and we were siffing fhere in fhe car and who should come along buf my fafher! WowI Did you have lipsfick on? l did, buf you know Johnny! . . . giggle . . . giggle . . . giggle . . . Yes, info fhe school fhey came, all of fhem, fhe children. We remember fhem, for we were one wifh fhem, you and I. And as fhe years wenf by, we grew older and more wise, and looking back on our four years fogefher we remember a hosf of Iiffle unimporfanf fhings fhaf cling fo us and will nof perish. The firsf walk we fook fogefher along fhe Parkway. If was aufumn and cold. The breeze from across fhe Sound was filled wifh fhe odor of burning leaves and pregnanf wifh fhe fullness of winfer bife and sparkle. The leaves fell 'Io 'rhe ground in li'H'le dusky dusf clouds, and on fhe roadbed fhe fires of fhe passing aufomobiles made li'H'Ie crickef sounds. The coldness shivered fhe branches of fhe frees. There are some fhings which we shall never forgefz fhe firsf self-conscious puffings on a limp cigareffe, fhe rain and misf fhaf clung abouf a summer sfreef long ago, fhe warm sfickiness of fhe gearshiff knob on fhe firsf car we drove. All fhese are fhe fhings which we have known in our youfh: we have known beaufy, we have known I6

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Oh, yes. Jameson . . . '42 wasn'+ if? Yes . . . I remember . . . a fine sfudenf. 7 Whaf of us will endure here, now fhaf we have gone, and 'rhere are ofhers? Info fhe school fhey rushed, fhe children. We have seen fhem, we have been one of fhem, you and I. Hundreds of faces. Yef fhere was somefhing abouf a cerfain few fhaf we remember insfincfively. Whaf was if? A girl wore a red skirf and a yellow sweafer. She carried herself smarfly and her lips were red and her skin smoofh. As she passed us, I glanced af Mike sfanding beside me. His eyes followed her. She 'lurned for a momenf, feeling our eyes upon her, and smiled. Then she was gone. She was nice, wasn'f she? Mike murmured. Yes, l answered, she was very nice. Info fhe school fhey came, from all parfs of fhe Bronx. Ouflanders from Cify Island and Throgg's Neck, immigranfs from Hunfs Poinf, Van Nesf, Pelham and Fordham. And when fhey came, each of fhem was differenf from fhe resf. Each sang a song wifh a differenf air, each breafhed a differenf melody. Na+ fhe songs of fhe greaf people, nof fhe music of anofher world, buf each aparf, a finy fune, sung fo +he rhyfhm ofa young man's heart . . . And how abouf Spain? Why didn'+ we help Spain? Go on, you falk abouf Democracy and Freedom and use high sounding phrases, buf you know fhaf in fhe end if all boils down fo a maffer of dollars and cenfs! Well . . . I don'f know abou? fha? . . . Ah, you don'1' know whaf you're falking abouf! Why don'f you grow up? Are you blind? Can'f you see whaf's happening? WeIl...ldon'+know... at at at ak wk an ak 4: His hair was blond, buf one didn'+ see fhaf ai' firsf There was somefhing abouf his chin, which slanfed downward, and fhe perfness of his fhick nose fhaf rivefed your affenfion fo his face. He wore fhick glasses and he looked very dumb. No one fhoughf fhaf he would lead fhe class in chemisfry, buf he did. He began by asking a quesfion fhe feacher couldn'f answer. From fhaf day on he was respecfed by fhe resf of us, and when he rose fo speak we were silenf. He spoke in halfing phrases, as fhough he were noi' quife sure of himself, and yef he always was. When he spoke fhaf way if wasn'f affecfed eifherg you fhoughf af 'lhe momenf, He really wanfs fo know fhe answer fo +haf. He was an infelligenf boy, quief and sincere. And in English one ferm fhere was a girl . . . Bu+, Mr. Seldon, if seems fo me fhaf fhe poinf in quesfion is noi' so much whefher Arisfofle was sincere or whefher Spinoza was sincere, or whefher Erasmus was sincere, if seems fo me fhaf fhe . . . ah . . . real issue here is somefhing more far reaching and much deeper fhan iusf fhaf. If we are fo accepf fhe facf, and . . . ah . . . I assume fhaf we musf . . . fhaf in wrifing whaf he did, Freud was inferesfed primarily in . . . ah . . . discovering fhe various mofivafions for fhe . . . ah . . . various human acfions and reacfions, and in seffing forfh nof a docfrine in fhe sense of Arisfofle and Aquinas, buf rafher an . . . ah . . . an ideal concepfion of fhings nof as fhey should be, buf rafher as fhey are . . . I5

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love. We have saf for hours in a cleff of a rock fhaf iufs ifs ragged wef snouf far ouf info fhe Sound: we have laughed wifh ioy fo feel rain upon our faces, cool fresh wefness of rain, we have known fhe fingle and sfing of new fallen snow, fragranf and clean, and we have known fhe dark aufumn promise of deafh. We have plucked from fhe fleefing hours some small group of memories, fen years hence: Do you remember fhe fime John wenf fo his firsf dance! . . . Ten years hence we shall re- member fhe fime John wenf fo his firsf dance, and we shall smile and be silenf, frying fo recall all our losf fever and simmering ioy. How fo forgef our firsf dafe? The nighf we sfood awkwardly on fhe corner of some forgoffen sfreef, shiffing our weighf from foof fo foof, feeling fhe eye of every passerby upon our foolishly shame-scorched face? How fo relive all our false bravado and bragging falk and boasfing words? To recall all of fhis, our burning youfh, fhe darfs of desire, fhe dreams of fhe fufure, our cherished secref broodingsf? Then we were free wifh a freedom of ioy and power: wifh an ache in our hearf and a cry in our fhroaf. Why? Because we knew fhaf we were young, and age is corrupf and roffen, and deafh comes fo age while youfh lives on. And fen years hence, whaf fhen, yes, whaf fhen? Can you ever forgef our firsf dafe fogefherl You were scared sfiff! Oh, if was a riof! Remind me fo fell you abouf if, Mary . . . why I never . . . ! Ten years hence we shall remember fhaf firsf dafe, and we shall be ashamed. The wind is whispering in fhe frees, and along fhe Parkway fhe fires of fhe passing au-romobiles make a ripping sound as fhe rubber clufches The hard roadbed. If is January, and fhe nighf is long and cold. Jameson . . . '42, wasn'f if? Oh, yes, if was in '42, wasn'+ if? Buf fhaf seems so long ago! There was a girl . . . a boy who wore fhick glasses . . . and fhe school was filled wifh our voices, fhe day was burning sun- shine and in fhe yard fhe girls ran abouf in fheir blue bloomer suifs while fhe boys wafched from fhe windows . . . Mr. Fonfaine is coming . . . and always fhere is a ghosf abouf fhe corridors and in fhe rooms . . . a ghosf of us? Did we make some mark upon fhe floors fhaf will never pass, some specfre of our creafing fo haunf for- ever +his sunlif building? We were one wifh fhem, you and l, wifh all fhose ofhers . . . and fha? was, oh, many years ago, and we cuf our classes fo lisfen fo fhe ball game. Remember how all fhe people falked abouf Owen's dropping fhaf ball in fhe Ninfh af Ebbef's Field . . . a long fime ago . . . lf is dark in fhe school naw. The rooms are deserfed. The cusfodian's assisfanf has locked fhe door and deparfed info fhe nighf. Oufside fhe school fhe nighf is cold and January, and fhe sfars above shine wifh a chill winfer radiance. ln fhe silence of fhe nighf, we sfarf and wake suddenly in our beds, and our vision is suddenly flooded wifh all fhe memories of our school years, of fhe day we fook leave of one anofher and wenf forfh info a biffer and ignoranf world, shining flames in fhe nighf, warming each ofher's hearfs wifh our parfing words, never fo meef again. Shining flames we were, fhaf lif up fhe darkness . . . and some flickered fainfly and died info an ash, and ofhers lif up fhe world wifh fheir lighf. Who knows . . . perhaps one of fhose flames will shine forever . . . and fhe nighf will pass . . . George Zifo I7