Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

Page 21 text:

THE REFLECTOR With her usual speed she was out of the water and on her way to the club house. Barry, however, had different ideas on the subject and swung her around by the arm. What’s the matter, Bobby? You seem angry at something.” Bobby stood there, a defiant figure. Don’t think I’m a curiosity you can study any old time, just to get a kick out of something! You can’t make a fool out of me!” Why, Bobby, what are you driving at?” It didn’t take long to blurt out her story. So, I’m telling you right now, I don’t like dancing--1 hate it--- and I hate Glo and Pat and Alice and Dotty-----and I hate you too.” Here a tear escaped and ran down her nose. Why, Bobby, you didn’t believe what that crowd said, did you? I never thought anything of the sort. You’re not comical, and you’re not a perfect scream----1 think you’re a ripping good sport. Let’s be pals ----and don’t cry, please.” Another tear ran down Bobby’s nose, but she hastily brushed it away. I’m not crying,” she grinned, and thrust out her hand. Good sports don’t cry. Let’s be pals.” Her brown hand in his and her brown eyes smiling up at him, they raced to the car. Laughing and out of breath, they threw themselves in. Next to Barry, Bobby somehow felt that she had found a true friend. Barry looked down at her and smiled. Pals?” he questioned. Pals,” whispered Bobby. Grace Wood, June ’30. Faith She sees the best that glimmers through the worst; She feels the sun that is hidden under clouds; She spies the spring thru the winter long; She visions the lark on the leafless tree; Looking forward to the best— This is faith. Alma Fain, June ’33 1 Saw You Smile Today is such a gray day, I saw you smile so brightly, And I am such a sad thing. And I too could laugh lightly— Why was I such a glad thing But that was years ago, dear, Just yesterday? Though yesterday. Emily Oettel, June ’30. Dust that was rose, Dust that was jade— Poets may die But words never fade. V. Grounds, Feb. ’32. Seventeen

Page 20 text:

THE REFLECTOR She was disturbed suddenly by a peal of laughter, followed by the patter of feet across the lawn into the summer house. She sat there not knowing whether to stay or leave. Suddenly she heard a voice choked with laughter and recognized it as Glo Milford’s. Isn’t she a perfect scream? She’s been sitting on that couch for about an hour. Why, she’s absolutely lost. I never saw anyone so out of place. And doesn’t she look comical when she totters across the floor on those heels?” Bobby flushed with anger and sat frozen, resolved to hear everything. Didn’t you scream when you saw the look on her face--------1 mean when Tommy rushed Barry away from her? She looked dazed. I think Barry’s just talking to her because she’s such a curiosity. Gets a kick out of her, I guess.” Bobby stood up defiantly and marched into the house. She strode up the stairs, grabbed her wrap and marched downstairs again and out to the car. Throwing the wrap on the floor of the car, she slammed the door and drove off. Her face flushed with anger, indignant tears in her eyes, she jammed her foot down on the gas and tore through the night till she reached the club house. The place was practically deserted, al- most everybody being at the dance. In a few minutes she was out of the despised frills and into a comfortable bathing suit. I’ll show ’em,” she said aloud. Let them make a fool out of me? ----not Bobby Lowell,” and she stepped out onto the moonlit lawn. She raced across the grass, out onto the pier, and dove into the calm, silvery waters. Coming to the top, she set out with a steady crawl for the float. The faint sound of a car reached her ears, but she paid no attention to it. By the time she reached the float she felt quite calm. But the unpleasant evening had not been forgotten. Stretched out on the float, face to the sky, she lost herself in thought. The faint chimes of a bell brought her back to the present. Eleven o’clock” she mused. Guess I’ll try a few dives, and then home for me.” She stood poised on the board and a second later her hands cut the water without a splash. Good,” said a voice as she came up. Very good,” followed by a laugh, and Bobby glanced around, surprised to look into the laughing face of Barry. Think so?” she questioned cooly, and swung herself up to the float. Barry followed, but she deliberately sat with her back to him. Ain’t Mis- behavin’ ”----Bobby always whistled when she was mad, which was quite often. Wondering at her coolness, Barry merely commented, Pretty tune.” Followed by Barry, she set out for the shore. Great night, isn’t it?” grinned Barry, catching up with her. Great for a swim.” I enjoy swimming alone much more,” glared Bobby, and swung over on her other side. Sixteen

Page 22 text:

THE REFLECTOR Cradle of Civilization I stood in an open doorway The molten stream of iron flowed And watched a jibcrane bearing Into a mold, the weak gleam A ladle full of liquid metal Of the lamps was extinguished That shimmered and bubbled away.By an intolerable glare of light. Seething, glowing, spitting, That ladle, slowly swaying The molten metal spilled in Upon its ponderous crane A sparkling, glaring film Is the cradle of civilization. Over the side of the caldron. It bears Every drop as it struck with a boom Nails that hold the pictures The white hot expanse below Sizzled and bounded away In a thousand searing points. Above the swaying ladle High in the black pall Of the roof the shadows were Pierced by the dazzle of arc-lights, But when the ladle tipped and With a barking, crackling roar on the wall, Wires that bring news Of wars—birth of babes—peace, Engines, bridges, pens that May write Love letters or perhaps The liberty of a race as Lincoln’s Wrote it. Julia Noonburg, June, ’30. The Rainbow First the flaming red Springs vividly forth. Then the delicious yellow, And the pure blue spreading o’er the autumn sky. Then of sadder hue Emerges the deeper indigo. While the last glimmer of the great curve Dies away in the fainting violet. Sebastian Puleo, June ’30. June Lilies upon their dark green saucers, Violets swaying their heads like laugh- ing youngsters, The dark green velvet carpet with flashes of red and gold here and there like lightning on waves in a stormy sea, reflected. The Sun, master of life, with a triumphant haughtiness is shining up above, inspiring the entire universe to sing the eternal hymn of Nature’s love. Sweet June with its elating fragrance has come once more, Through flowery fields, a tender breeze is blowing, bringing to every one new vigor. Marie Andreotta, June, ’30. Eighteen