Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR - l - iQ1... - Defense Against Agents By Harold rlliller, june '36 The person who can successfully defend himself against every kind of pedzller or panhandler who comes to his door is truly a genius. There is a surprising number of people who make their living by door-to-door soliciting, as I learned while I was trying to make repairs on our back porch one day last summer. The day was one of the hottest that I have experienced. There was not a cloud or a haze in the skyg everything that grew in the ground was parched to a crisp-seemingly crackling in the very slight breeze. Old Sol was having a Hne time and was operating under full capacity. As I was slowly replacing old rotted boards in the porch, a young man of about my own age entered the yard. At his side was carelessly slung a canvas bag such as is used by the vast hoards of magazine peddlers, of whom this youth-was a member. The first intruder was an easy one to dispose of. One merely had to repeat that old slogan, Sorry, but We have ours delivered by mail. When this excuse had worked like a charm, and the young man had gone, I resumed my repair-work. A few minutes later, when the vegetable-man came, I had to climb the forty wearisome steps to the attic, where mother was doing some dusting. To my infinite disgust I had come all the way from the ground floor in vain-I learned that we needed nothing in the vegetable line that day. Down the stairs I came in a sullen rage and sent this peddler away. Next came the newspaper boy, who was collecting for the week's subscrip- tion. When I reached the attic this time, I was told that I must search for mother's pocketbook, for she had forgotten where she had left it. In fifteen minutes, after an exasperating search, I succeeded in locating the money and paying the paper boy, who immediately left. Once more I picked up the hammer and began laboriously pounding nails into a new board. Soon I noticed that a familiar cat was, as usual, in the garbage can and was quite joyously pushing tin cans onto the ground. Since picking up tin cans is not one of my favorite sports, I easily disposed of him with a well-aimed rock, at the same time satisfying my desire to throw some- thing at somebody. Fifteen minutes later a policeman appeared on the scene. Suddenly I re- membered the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, but I did not know how it could have acted so quickly. How many dogs do you have here, Sonny? asked Mr. Brassbuttons. Wl1y, only one, sir, I replied, a sinking feeling coming to my stomach. I was well relieved that I was apparently not to be punished for the cat epi- sode, yet I could not help but be concerned about my dog, which is one of my closest friends. Now don't try to stall me, said the blue-clad enforcer of the law. The people in this neighborhood have been complaining about a bunch of hounds here for the past week. 22

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THE REFLEC TOR , On Eb's face was a grim smile. On Sylvia's, a look of horror. On Phil's, fear, anger, and surprise played a game of tag. He thought of jumping out with the girl, but that would be fatal, he knew. He tried to get control of the steering wheel, but suddenly they were at the bottom of the incline. The road turned. The car did not. A sickening crash came as the frail fence gave way to the onrushing behemoth which was Ebenezer Stiles' auto. Far out over the cliff it shot. Time stood still, as, for an awful moment, the car seemed to hang there in space. Then, like a plummet, it fell, striking the terrible rocks below witl1 a ghastly explosion. Livid sheets of flame shot out on every side. 'K 'F i 'lf if Next day the sign still stood in the window ofa general store in Colinsville. Closed for the Night. It would be a very long night. The dawn was a good way off. All of which transpired because one young man forgot to check his supply of gasoline. ' Youth, Take Heed! By Dorothy O'C0nner, june, '36 Youth, listen and take heed, We, the aged, have lived, and know. Then the children cry this answer, We need not your help, foolish old ones. Be careful 'ere your Rubicon be crossed too soon, Stay awhile beneath the guardian wing. Ye know not life, its pitfalls cleverly concealed. Yeal advice ye give freely. We will none of it. Wherefore were we born unto this world? To live, to love, to learn. These things ye have already done, And, now that your day is nearly o'er, Ye bid us tarry until it is too late. We would see the glories of the world, Love and be loved. Can'st not understand? We are like unto you, for we are your children. 21

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THE REFLECTOR - l-1 lll1.11-1 But that's impossible, I replied. All the neighbors like our dog. We keep him in at night, and he has never bit-oh, I know whom you're after! There is a place on the next street where they have a few dogs-that's funny, the number of the house is eighty-one, same as ours! Well, I'll go thereg but, boy, if you're stringin' me, you'll pay for it. With the departure of the policeman, I made my decision hereafter to be nice to all cats, no matter what harm they may do. My temperature went down ten points, and I resumed the porch mending. By the speed I was making then, I probably would have finished by suppertimeg but this was not to be, for soon a middle-aged gentleman appeared on the scene. I knew by the way he looked at me that I was in for quite a lecture before he would leave. He started in by trying to sell me seeds for the garden. When I told him that I could not be bothered with raising flowers, he replied that he would sell me some very good tomato plants cheap. Then he began his lecture on how nice it is to have a garden all your own, how good the vegetables taste when they come right off the vinesg and how you would save money as well as have a lot of fun in raising these tomatoes. I was just about to give up and order a few plants to get rid of him, when- How much did you say those plants are? came mother's welcome voice from the attic window. The tomato-peddler then gave her the same convincing lecture he had given me. After I had done my best all day to keep from buying something, my whole day was ruined when mother surrendered to the first attack she met-or had she heard all the others, including the cop, through the attic window? Sailing Up the Solent by Nancy Green, june '36 Breakfast had been taken some hours before, so we were all on deck, ex- cited at the thought of finally reaching our goal-Southampton. The fog which had covered the slightly-rolling sea since dawn suddenly lifted, and we found ourselves in the Solent. As the mist cleared, it seemed as if an enormous emerald rose out of the sea. There it lay-peaceful and undisturbed by the hundreds of curious eyes now trained upon it. You see, this is no ordinary island-but the Isle of Wight. To most people this may not mean anything, but to an Englishman it means the summer of good Queen Victoria. From the shore, where the white waves dash on the shining beach, the land gently rises to a crown of an old, picturesque castle. The moss-covered building is, nestled peacefully among the friendly trees. The surrounding countryside looks like an old oil painting. Here and there wave red and orange poppies, while among them graze a number of black and white cows. This little island seems to typify the peacefulness and solidity of Englandg it stands for everything the British people have striven for through the ages. 23