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

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THE RAIN AND I Three years ago today it aIso rainedI OnIy three years back, yet so far much more in thoughtI VVhiIe sitting at the window, gazing into the nowhere, I recaII vivid, unforgettable moments, when two of the finest men Ieft to the caII of the coIors. Despite the meIanchoIic atmosphere and the I1eaviIy Iaden skies, an imaginary rainbow smiIed before me. My eyes dampened as it seemed to say, uVVhy are you sad? I was motionIess. The tears were uncontroIIabIe, for today was different. . . . wrhere is something in them bothf, I thought, uthat is different .... No need worrying .... America is made of men IiIce themf' Yes. aII these things the rain seemed to whisper soothingIy as its beads hit against my window pane. My thoughts Iightened to some three years ago. . . IVIother is sitting in the dean,s office at the I'Iaaren Aviation High SchooI waiting for Gabe to come down and straighten things out with his history instructor. How ashamed he isI UNothing matters but airpIanes, he says abruptIy. and much to mother's em- barrassment, Hand nothing in the worId will make me change my mind, eitherI . . . besides . . . what do I care about Louis XIV and NapoIeon III? He is home now, compIeteIy humiIiatecI. Mother is Iecturing him about his attitude towards schooI. She is irritated to find bits of baIsa wood and razor bIac,Ies beside spiIt gIue and scraps of paper careIessIy strewn on the windowsiII of his room. I can see him now . . . his taII, Iean body seated at his home-made worIc tabIe . . . in the midst of a piIe of refuse. I can hear him. too, asking IVIom to maIce me Ieave him aIone, and besides . . . UVVhat do girIs Icnow about airpIanes? He is heiping me with my homework now. In fact. he is drawing up his own assigned Cash iIournaI at the same time. UI couId eat this stufif' he says. HIt's in me, just IiIce airpIanes.n He has cIosed his Ioooics now, and I see him curIed up in the huge chair next to the oId radio. He appears to be resting. He Ioves his music, indeecII He is Iis- tening to his favorite evening concert .... FaItering, doIeIuI sounds can be heard in the househoId. He becomes conscious of the origin of these sounds, and cIicIis off the radio diaI. He hears sisterys oI:I-Icey rendition of his favorite compositions. Nothing in the worIcI annoys him more than that. He is asIeep, despite the bang- ing open oi the back door .... In march a group of noisy teen-aged boys. each cIad in a dusty basebaII uni- Iorm. with their cIub name. Hcoronets, A.C.,' brigI1tIy dispIayed across their chests. Each has something very distinct about him. But I couId see, Ioest of aII, the weII uphoIstered, husicy body of our hero, Frankie. weighted down with basebaII equip- ment. He settIes his burden in the haIIway, and with his usuaI UI'Ii.H he greets his best girI, IVIom. He is stretching with fatigue now. What sweII times Dad and I had at the basebaII diamond in the ParIcI How the boys used to pIayI How we cheered our heroI ZZ

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TYPICAL SCHOOL DAY Yesterday was a rather uneventful school day. The aIarm cIocIc announced its presence at promptIy 8 o'cIocIc after which I I'eII asleep again. I was awakened however about 8:30 hy a terrified shrielc from my mother. Somehow my clothes were thrown on, my Iarealciast thrown in. and I was thrown out hy 8:55. After dashing under cars. dropping my hoolcs, and forgetting my Iunch. I managed to pant into school with the Iate hell. I was quickly relieved of my aI- Iowance hy representatives Irom senior hats, senior dues, senior prom, class ring. G. O.. Red Cross. and a multitude of others. This was Iollowed shortly hy the ceIestiaI chimes of Dr. I.oughran's broadcast. We all greeted with joy the an- nouncement that IVIrs. SnycIer's class was the first to have IOOWJ G. O. memhership. After ahsorhing that tidbit. we had the pleasure of Iearning just which morons had departed from their vaIuaIJIe possessions the previous day. The rest of the home room period was spent in doing English homeworlc. The start of each period found one oI my riIJs popping through my new white sweater. Gaunt with hunger. I IinaIIy rushed down an up staircase and collapsed into the cafeteria, where I was eventually revived hy the delightful aroma of an egg sandwich. Alter hungrily devouring my Iunch, I applied fresh Iipsticlc, hlotted it on the Inaclc of my Latin hook, and prepared to copy my Iriend's Eco. homeworic just as the hell rang. Naturally my next period class was on the 4th floor. As I started on my journey. I wished vainly for a hrolcen arm that would entitle me to an elevator pass. The first iiight of stairs Wasnyt too had. It was made with a minimum of effort and I was hearing up admirahly as I attaclced the second flight. That was a Iittte more diI:I:icuIt. I gasped a hit and shifted my hoolcs. hut on the whole managed to withstand the strain. I smiled Iorightly as I started the third hut my vigor soon hegan to wane. perspiration dripped Irom my hrow and a droop tool: possession of my shoulders: yes. I was definitely wealcening. I rested a hit Iaelore starting up the fourth Iiight. As I continued my heart was hammering vio- Ientty. my eyes were glazed and stared vacantly at the stairs that whirled in front of them. Four more steps to goI Fourmore steps to drag my tortured. pain raclced body. My eyes glistened with new hope. Could I malce it? Three more stepsi TwoI Onet I dragged one tired aching Ieg after the other and sighed with happi- ness. As I tottered into Eco., I realized that I'd Ieft my hook in the cafeteria and immediately dashed down to get it. alter which the same process was repeated. JUNE A1-LAS 21

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The downheat ol the rain is heavyt it is a lamiliar sound, hut of what? l listen intently to the heat, as it seems to luring haclc memories. The craclc ot light- ning followed hy the thump of thunder sounds like an echol Yes . . . an echo of Franlcs downheat on his drumsl How he loved his clrumsl uit is exactly as he would play themf' l thought. and l am grateful for such a perlect effect. For a short while my thoughts paused. l made a general survey oi the wet street in lront ol my house. l spotted a small puddle. and l stared at it, hut not at length. l rulmlaed my eyes, and again noticed that same puddle. Studying it lurlher, l noticed the most beautiful rainhow anxiously cutting its way through the ripples of the water. This had a decisive significance. lvly thoughts snapped immediately to Franlciel Cannot this rainhow, cutting through the small ripples, he his Hixflighty A tU.S.S. Allentown, cutting its way through the giant Waves ol the Pacific? l gazed further: the trees frowned. Soon a strong wind hlew their arms about wildly. l gazed awlcwardly at the sight! Heavier winds and gales tossed and uprooted young trees. It was a deadly sightl i lwly thoughts paused .... But l lcnew such storms do not last very longi So it is in every phase ol lilel Storms come and got l smiled as l rose from my chair. l was always taught to hear in mind that if we want the rainhow, we must have the rainl Vvith that in mind, l was assured that my hrothers would soon hring haclc a glorious and victorious rainhow, after this heavy glohal storm comes to an end. RITA NACLERIO MATURITY Vvhen youthful lxlay with scented hand Hath closed the tearlul eyes of April, And graced the viridescent land, I all alone emlmracc the world. And dream with dainty, throhhing spring, Lilce as the sun at morn awaiting, Of radiant summers that each year bring Their shimm'ring wealth of gilded hours. fl 2 If spring he silver then summer's true gold. Apollo wreathed in purer joys Ol poignant whisp'rings yet untold. X-g, For time hath muted every voice That lain would tell to youthful spring V Of fuller treasure summers hring. ESTELLE GOLDBERG My . -' Ti -: .: i : ' Q . . .f- .... - s .- .- '. , -ru... . K-xxx