Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR lil X 1 Lazybones brings to mind the picture of a great meadow with a single, giant apple tree, in the shade of which meanders a quiet stream. It is here that one lies, either thinking or dreaming. I do not mean to say that he need build fairy castles, or reflect upon the fundamental nature of things, eternal. The subject of his thoughts may be, especially if he is rather introspective, himself. The thoughts of a lonely person, might easily turn to friends. It is trite to proclaim the scarcity of true friends. By friends I mean friends in the truest, deepest sense. Friendship, as Andre Maurois has pointed out, is unaccountable, inexplicable. Montaigne, when asked to account for the great friendship of his life, could explain it only in the words, Because he was he and I was I. But friends cannot be treated as inconsiderately as one pleases. Friendship must be mouldedg friendship must be a product of tact, gentle- ness, consideration. Hence it may be that, while lying alone beneath the ancient apple tree, one plans a policy of self-forgetfulness, naturally com- bined with consideration, in order to bind still closer a much loved friend. Of course it may be that our dreamer cares little for such topics. He may hum or sing. He may muse upon the actions of mankind, races, cities, houses, or casual social acquaintances. But, however he may be, he' thinks, unless he be a moron or an imbecile. Everyone needs a time for thought, by reason of which I close with the following lines of poetry: i There is a pleasure in day-dreaming, There is a rapture in drifting contemplation, There is a peace of mind in the lazy dreamer's eye That only dreamers can attain. GORDON Ross SMITH, June 1935. Villain Oh Spring, are you a demon in disguise? Are you an angel who would tell me lies? In spite of all your beauty, Do you think you do your duty When you make madness in my soul arise? I love to watch your beautiful display Of yellow-green against the sun's gold ray. I love your dainty flowers. Why manifest your powers And change from brightness to dim, gloomy, grey? Oh Spring, please have some sympathy for me. Please let me keep those moods of ecstasy. Please let me go on dreaming. Can't you keep your brightness gleaming? Must you display all this variety? FRED ROTHWELL, June 1934. Fifteen

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THE REFLECTOR 'M nv 'W Zia-'71 A if 9 455' f Qi 122 llflffffxiii-QT? fivfflv' fl ille- x 3 fffj wx J W eg--. . 'f ,, 3 f 'Q J WIDE p W e 5- A -,vs-- . 0,945 e Q 1, 52 7 Pig 45' ff 5 l ifglix i st A4 ,i 'fl y. '- I - 'Tl' - -E22 e V irggkief f LAZYBONES ' PRING fever seems to be an ailment that every young ' y fellow contracts during the days of late March and throughout April, May and June. It is said that in spring a young man's fancy turns to what the girl has been thinking about all Winter. I cannot vouch for the truth of this statement, but I rather think that it is correct. After all, Why not? Everyone, except those Ll Whose minds are hopelessly immature, seem to need a time for reflection. And it would also seem that unblemished nature constitutes the best surroundings for this. Hence, boys are occasionally deterred on their Way to school. Of course, our parents do not seem very favorably impressed with the idea. They seem to entertain the strange notion that one should get his recreation outside of school hours. On the other hand, many students find that that is the only Way in which they can get long periods of time solely to themselves. One can call it laziness if he chooses. Even playing hookey was not unknown to our elders. It is good to be lazy occasionally. Let one shoulder his knapsack, per- haps even take his camera in his hand, and ramble into the countryside for a quiet, meditative day by a brookside. The unoriginal vulgarians would, of course, add the battered old line, which they have carried down from babyhood, about a good book. Not that one should not read good books, but that the statement is so strikingly, and disgustingly, unoriginal. Fourteen

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THE REFLECTOR VII I- gy it Of course we all chime in with an enthusiastic affirmative We are thinking of a beautiful retreat where bushes and trees blossom in the utmost pro- fusion, where a murmuring fountain drips and splashes into a quiet pool, where every variety of the bird beautiful sings lusty melodiesg where one lies in the shade listening and thinking. Only a few of us, if any, remember our own gardens. It was unfortunate this year, but so it always has been. Last spring, when leaves were still caked about the stems of dormant plants, we reflected upon the state of the garden. How badly it needed to be cleaned. But, we continued, it was spring. It would be better to take a hike, the gardening could be done next week, we concluded. Within a week, however, che plants are beginning to show their heads. A little late now, we think, to clean it up ourselves. Perhaps it would be better to get a gardener, then the new plants would not be broken. We promptly forget it. A few more weeks pass. The plants have grown up-but they develop only a few puny flowers! Evidently they are not used to this treatment, they ought to be, though, after all these years. Now we become desperate. We actually inquire of a few friends where to hire a good gardener. They give plenty of advice. It appears easy. We let it slide. The weather gets hot. The garden is a sight. It resembles a plowed but unplanted field at the end of summer. No flowers are visible, only rank, overgrown, yellow-green weeds swarming with bugs. We are disgusted. It would seem that nothing but weeds flourish in our garden! We regret, maybe we abominate, and-sit! July turns to August. It gets hotter, and we become lazier. No use weeding the garden now, we think. There isn't time for anything to grow. Besides, if we were to uproot all the weeds now, the garden would be devoid of plants. We forget the garden and go on our summer vacation. We visit someone who employs a gardener a day or so every week. We envy his garden. He laughs. We determine to make amends to the garden when we return. But during the whole week after our return it rains. We already are used to the garden. The weeds are aware of it and flourish. Late summer turns to fall. The weeds shrivel up and turn brown. We decide to rake up the leaves and dead plants. We actually go out and walk around. Oh well, we think, perhaps it would be better to leave them as they are. They will help to keep the ground warm during the winter. We postpone all gardening operatons until next spring, meanwhile firmly resolving to have the finest garden on the block next summer. RICHARD GRUNDMAN, June 1934. ON UNWEEDING GARDENS -1'-'- '- ARD work indeed are gardens, but they are worth Q . l n 1 e N Q ' , l l Sixteen