Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR Antiques V iiHmi 'lATRICIA STEWART had worked three years for Bitt and ' Pl Company, a large New York newspaper concern. Six days A a week she struggled to write off two thousand words of latest L Ju! i-I fashion copy. At S o'clock, putting her desk in order, she ' slipped papers under the green desk blotter, filed other writ- ten material for future use, covered the ink-well, drew the shades, and after one last look around left the office. But today she lingered longer than usual, until everyone had left. The sun, streaming in at the window, picked her out as she sat staring into space. Patriciais thoughts were far from her surroundings. Today was her last day at the office! The resignation had been handed in two weeks previously, and the firm had expressed its regrets at seeing such an earnest worker leave them. But, oddly enough, the fashion writer was not thinking of future employment, for her mind refused to be troubled with such details. Instead of tea gowns, sport dresses, and children's clothing, Patsy visualized only a little white farm house, with green shutters, and a directing sign over the doorway, Antiques.U How fortunate it was that she had been named after old Aunt Patricia! And how lucky she had been to inherit 53,000 at the death of that particular aunt! Patsy had always wanted to become the owner of an antique shop, and now her dream would be realized. As she sat in the dim ofhce, she could pic- ture the huge fire place, the Oriental rugs, the spinning wheel, the colo- nial furniture, the pictures, and the old, hand-painted china arrayed on shelves about the room. Everything seemed to be in existence already, and Patsy knew just how to arrange it. Finally, shaking herself from her reverie, she rose, slipped on her hat and coat, took the accustomed last glance about, and left the building. Deciding to celebrate while in high spirits, Patricia took the sub- way uptown and visited Maureen, her pal and confidant. Maureen re- ceived her with open arms. Why, Pat, dear, what have you been doing lately? I haven't seen you for four days. Still dreaming about wormy chests and rickety chairs?,' 'lMaureen, you,re horrid to laugh at me! Aren't you glad that luck has at last found me? Or that I have found luck?,' 'IThere, I didn't mean thatf' consoled Maureen. But you know it amuses me to think of the sedate, intelligent, business woman engaged in the antique trade. After I finish this design, let,s go down to Daubys for dinner and celebrate. I'm starved, after painting all dayf, Patsy quickly acquiesced to this plan, as no one can live on dreams alone. So the odd pair-sensible, businesslike Patsy, and temperamental Maureen, who posed for silk stockings, hat, glove, and jewelry ads, and painted fashion plates during her spare time-had dinner together at a Eighteen

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THE REFLECTOR The Feeling of the Sea I climbed onto a lonely rock And looked upon the sea,- The curling crests, the gliding gulls. I thought of poetry. My mind began to doze and dream But suddenly I jumped- A swirling, sloppy, soapy wave Upon my face had thumped. I slid down from that lonely rock As wet as I could be. I then knew I had come too close To its reality. WALTER FIELDHOUSE, Feb The Firefly At morning, when the earth and sky Are glowing with the light of spring, We see thee not, oh little fly, Nor think about thy glowing wing. But when the skies have lost their hue, And sunny lights no longer play, Oh then we see and thank thee, too, For sparkling o'er the dreary way. ruary 1932 ALICE LOUISE BORNEMAN, February 1932 T0 cz Meieor in u Museum How cold and stiff and still you are Fmbalmed in plaster on the shelf. Yet once ablaze-aye, once afar You dimmed the haughty moon, herself. . You whirled aflame across the sky And filled some humble soul with awe And then were gone . . . but still the Could see forever what it saw. And now, tho stiff, inert, and numb, And set in plaster on a shelf, You make us pause and strike us dumb- For you have lived a life yourself. eye VERNON GROUNDS, February 1932 Seventee

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THE REFLECTOR reasonable restaurant. After having gossiped for a while, they parted, and Patsy arrived at her boarding house about nine o'clock. The words, You're wanted on the phonef' and a series of raps on her door woke Patsy the next morning. It was Kenneth Ronson asking her to dinner that evening. She will- ingly accepted. Good old Ken! He was the sports editor of the paper and had worked for Bitt and Company about two years, during which time he had become acquainted with Patsy. A mutual friendship had sprung up between them and they often had dinner and attended the theater together. Although the slightest encouragement from Patsy might have led Ken to attempt advances, she maintained a friendly air, resolved to be independent. Ken Ronson thought the antique plan all nonsense and wanted her to give up the idea, but Patsy was not easily disillusioned. Nevertheless, he was a great help in the following weeks, driving Patsy all through the suburbs of New York, looking for just the proper place as a shop. Finally, after much searching, they found the house Patsy knew she wanted. It was just as she had pictured it-a white farm house with green roof and shutters, and an ideal archway over the door for her sign Antiques. The house itself was situated in a shady lane, branching off from the main highway-an ideal location for both tourists and city trade. Everything looked well taken care of, although the house was shut up and there was no sign of habitation. But Patsy rode back to the city in high spirits, knowing that Ken would find out about the place. Exactly four weeks later everything was settled. The farm house was easily rented, as the old lady who owned it had decided to remain in the city for the winter. Patsy was delighted and had bought all the antiques her money would allow. The Hrst floor of the house was one huge room which was devoted to the shop. Of course there was a fire- place, old hand-made rugs, colonial furniture, deep comfortable chairs, dishes, pottery, and even old-fashioned quilts and jewelry. There were pictures on the walls, some oil paintings and others, copies of famous paintings. These made quite an impression on the bank-roll. There was also a portrait of Wfashington which Patsy had found in the tiny garret of the house and Ken had nailed on the wall over the doorway. As the owner had taken everything from the house, Patsy naturally supposed the portrait was not wanted, and so it was added to her collection of antiques. Her one prized possession was a tall grandfather's clock which, in spite of its age, kept perfect time. There was even a purring Angora cat which Ken had brought from Jersey. Ken was constantly bringing and sending novelties from New York which he thought might sell for antiques. Yes, everything was ideal-that is, all but the trade. Winter was coming on, and the tourists were not very plentiful. Now and then, Patsy sold some trifle to a neighbor, but most of her callers, from curi- osity, merely stopped to chat with her. Occasionally some of the friendly Nineteen