Clymer High School - Clymax Yearbook (Clymer, PA)

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4 ClYMAX+T P Farewell ! 'Tis our school chums' solemn hour-and silence now Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er A still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds The bell's deep tones are swelling, 'tis the knell of our depart With a melancholy light, the moonbeams rest-Q Like a pale and spotless shroud. The spirit of our ehums seems to stand- The Freshmen, Sophomores, and Juniors pass in silent array All joyous memories of the past. 'Tis a time for memory and for tears-the years have gone And with them many a glorious throng of happy dreams, Their marks are on each browg their shadow in each heart. Our parting time has come-we must leave all loving friend Time bids us come and join the caravan that moves VVith measured tread and slow Into that dim unknown-the future. E1.wooD VANDIV F ed years s behind ER, '32,

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QATTTT-i?idiClyMAX-1----ip Unshadowed Yesterday-Unclouded Tomorrow The light of early morning breaks through September mists, sparkles over the clear stream and shines brightest of all in the mischievous eyes of a gay troupe of youngsters, thrilled with mingled apprehension and delight as they board the sturdy ship chartered Freshmen, and enter a sea quite unknown to them. In those merry eyes is a bright hope, unshadowed by yesterday, un- clouded by tomorrow. It ushers in, with eager anticipation, the dawn of a new era. Nay, we would not beckon back regrets of yesterday, nor seek to lift the curtains of tomorrow. In order that our vessel might be distinguished from all others, we chose a crimson and silver-grey mast with the insignia of Captain Kidd blazoned upon it. These youthful sailors soon learned the various in-lets and out-lets of Eng- lish, Algebra and Latin. 'Twas found to be smooth sailing for sometime, but little did we know of the insidious perils that lay before us and the lurking dangers which threatened disaster. On a most exciting day, we heard from afar off the rumble of rapids and shoals, newly termed by Mr. Davis, Examinations After three months of rest, the ship was re-chartered Sophomore Many misfortunes, failures, and disappointments confronted our dauntless little band. Manfully did we beat our way through the rough and tumultous waters of His- tory. There were undertows of which we had never dreamed, and hidden currents which rose high and tried to overthrow us. Sea pirates waited to wreck our hopes and rob us of our ambitions, but these only served to make us stronger. Another hazardous danger lay before us-a whirlpool of Finals. Triumphant, our spirits soared away into the blue-gay, carefree, absurdly happy. With Mildred St. Clair directing our destiny, we again launched forth, sailing through shallow waters and striking many rocky shoals. The Zephyrs tossed us to and fro and almost capsized our craft, but, guided by the Spirit of joy, we kept merrily to our course. During this respite the customary banquet was consentaneously proclaimed a success. While the future beckons, hesitancy is brought to our footsteps with the realization that each of us must soon go a different way, that our intimate friendships must be severed, that this old class must disentegrate,-and all must soon exist but in spirit. With a feeling of joy and exaltation, as we disappear beyond the glowing horizon of the future to breast the Sea of Life, we dedi- cate ourselves to the great task remaining before us. For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The Hood may bear us far, NVe hope to see our Pilot face to face VVhen we have crossed the bar. JUNE WIDDOWSON, '32. 20 i

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4 We-fee-Mc LYMAX P The Crystal Ball It was already midnight when Walter, William, and I arose from a table in the club dining-room and came down in an elevator for our hats and coats. We had spent a pleasant evening reminiscing over our old school days, and wondering what had become of our classmates. Fifteen years had elapsed since that memorable day in june when we had said our goodbyes. Our chums had scattered far and wide, and only an un- usual coincidence had brought the three of us together. Walter was now very wealthy, having made a lucky mining strike, William in spite of his stuhby mustache and graying hair was still the happy-go-lucky boy I remembered. He was now prominent in political circles-a future presidential possibility. As we left the club and strolled slowly homeward, we stopped occasionally to observe some curious shop window. For an instant we paused before a small building. We were about to pass on, when Walter attracted our attention to an advertisement, Mystic Eye, Sees All, Tells All-Past, Present, and Future. I immediately took interest. Was this not a wonderful chance to learn of our classmates? I tried to persuade my chums to enter the shop, but they laughed and finally departed saying they were too tired to take any stock in such nonsense. The room in which I found myself was small and very dark. A thick Turkish carpet covered the floor. At the far end was an ornate table. Scattered near by were brilliant cushion-like seats in place of chairs. The only occupant of the room was Mme. Zeets, the old fortune teller. She was gazing intently at a small crystal ball, The Mystic Eye. Looking up, she motioned me to a soft cushion seat. VVhen I informed her of my errand and wish, she under- stood, and pointed to the ball. Draw nearer, she commanded, and behold your wish. I glanced eagerly into the ball. As I fixed my gaze intently upon its crystal depths, I was suddenly amazed to see a large office with clerks, messenger boys, and secretaries hurrying busily here and there. While I watched, the president, VVoodrow Smith, gave some directions to his secretary, Alma Pomroy. Among the numerous helpers I recognized Leanore Duffy, Kathryn Pollock, and Chris- tina Laverick. typists. Before a large filing case stood Maragret Lezark and Gladys Short, deeply engrossed in their work. A telephone rang, and I was de- lighted to see Pearl Johnston taking an o1'der in a business-like manner. The vision was no more. The scene faded out and the glass grew cloudy. Then it brightened with an inner light. I saw a marching army. Through the waving flags, confetti, and showers of ticker tape, I glimpsed Clifford Allsopp and James Davis returning home from a successful invasion of Mars. , High above the clouds I espied a squadron of bombers, and I wasn't a bit surprised to Fmd Edward Cupples and Arthur Shank managing the controls. As this scene faded, I beheld a huge hospital. A large room slowly took definite shape. Everything was white-immaculately white. Rows of white 22 I i , e l