Colonel E Brooke Lee Middle School - Cougar Yearbook (Silver Spring, MD)

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l l WHY ELEPHANTS ARE GRAY I Once upon a time, deep in the jungle, there W, s a tribe of blue elephants. They were the only elephants in the world. The youngest of this tribe was named Thumper. l One day while Thumper's mother was doing the lairndry at the river, Thumper and one of his playmates wandered away froifn the village. They walked along the riverbank to the waterfall. At the walterfall lived a very mean lion. Whenever someone from the village came nl-:ar his tree house, he would do something terrible to them. As the elephant children neared his treehouse he called who dares come near my lvaterfall'? Your waterfall? screamed Thumper. c'Since when is it yours?b' Are you from the village? called the lion. l Well, what if I am? talked back Thumper. Thumjier's playmate was backing away from the treehouse and waterfall. The lion grew angry. Are you from the village? he rpared. Yes, we are from the village, said Thumper and added quietly, Sir. The mean lion sprang from his tree and chased Thumper and his playmate. He pushed Thumper into the river and poor little Thu, per fell over the fall. As Thumper scraped along the bottom of the riverl his beautiful blue skin scratched off until all that was left was an ugly, virinkly gray color. That is how elephants got their gray skin. 1 Janet Vielhaber N l HOW THE FLAMINGO GOT llTS NAME The Weak and The Strong A Young Puerto Rican walks down a New York street. He stops in a bar for a beer. A man sitting at the bar makes some sly remark about not wanting to drink in a joint that served dirty Puerto Ricansf' Someone nearby tells the man to shut up. The man sends the young Puerto Rican a dirty look, and walks out. Everyone in the bar sits and stares at the young man. He can feel the icy stares on his back. As he gets up to leave a place where he is unwanted, something stops him. It is not a person or a material object. It is a feeling that wells up inside of a person that prevents him from giving in. He refuses to be turned away by these small people who are strong only in groups. And so he stays until the last swallow of beer has made its way down to his stomach. Now a new feeling enters him-one of triumph, of knowing that he has actually won a battle within himself. As the other men in the bar slowly file out, they, too, experience a feeling. Their feeling is one of shame and guilt-and justly felt. A smile comes to the lips of the Puerto Rican. He begins to leave the bar and he notices a man waiting for him at the entrance. It's the man who told the drunk to keep quiet. They meet, talk a little, and laugh. Then, together, they walk down the now-quiet street. Helene Silverman You would never guess this is how the pink bird, who can't fly got its name! It all happened on a misty day in the Everglades. The Royal Ordler of Birdsf, was having its monthly meeting. The minutes of the last meeting were read. Today's order of business con- cerns the name of our club and members. It shows such little thought, our name is tool hort and besides we need a specific name for our secies. You must have guessed by now, what took up the next hour. The members were arguing over the title of its club. It just so happens they had an eavesdropperg Herman the hermit crab, who was not in favpr with the birds. He had it all figured out in his fmind for years, fbecause that is all he had to do.j 'llhe only thought that troubled him was how to get jthe members to accept it. live got it, said Hernfan. I'll use the initials of my title I thought of fwhich were obvious- ly F .L.A.M.I.N.G.O.j If I yell out in the confusion like a bird they will never know really who I am and they will be sure to accept it bCC3?.lS6 I think it is appropriate, if I do say so myself. j Sure enough, it was. accepted without further ado. The Flamingos, Cas they now were proudly calledj were all so jealous among themselves, that they didn't bother to ask who suggested this ingeneous idea. This jwas just perfect for Herman. Of course the Flamingds never realized what their name meant. Come to think of it, not many people do. So, I'll just slip it in, Feathered Lunatics fwho arej Awkward Manielcs Inc. Not fto mentionj Goony Oddballs. Ann Postman

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Hunger It was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly and the wind was just that perfect speed. But all of this did not catch the wonder of the little girl who sat in a harvested field. She was about eight or nine years old but her figure was somewhat distorted. Her small belly was blot- ted and her black eyes shone with a distant empty stare. The whole day was blank. No cheerful cries of little boys and girls playing in the streets, no barks of dogs, no alarming screeches of cats, not even a cart on the road. Only still, blank, emptiness. The little girl was thinking now about the last time she felt full after a hearty meal. The way everyone was joyful and the happy smiles of satisfied faces, all con- tent, all remarkably full of cheer. She could remember the times when her parents encouraged her to take seconds, and she did until she could not take another bite. Until she could not take another bite, she thought to herself. Slowly her mind blurred, and all she could remember now were wagons. Wagons upon wagons of wheat rolling down a dusty road, passing so close to her that she could reach out and grab a handfull of wheat with her very own hands. But now she reaches and there is nothing to grab. Slowly she got up and looked around the field to see if there were any small grains of harvested wheat hidden beneath a clump of dirt. But why bother, she thought to herself. She knew that these very fields had been scan- ned by people in the same need as she. The little girl turned to her house, her faded, dis- colored house, the same place where she had so many good times before. The house was empty now, all except for her mother standing over in the corner. The little girl walked over to her and then glanced into the crib. As she glanced into her motheris eyes, two large tears appeared in them as she slowly and silently picked up the limp body of the little girl's brother. As her mother reached the kitchen, the little girl walked over to the cupboard and took out some plates for tonight's unexpected dinner. Larysa Kurylas 47 WHY THE KANGAROO HOPS Long ago there lived a kangaroo on a very small island. His name was Kim and he was the only crea- ture living there. Kim was very lonely so he decided he wouldn't live there any more and jumped off the island and started swimming. He had never been off the island 'before and Kim found out that the water was freezing. He swam a while and got very tired. There was ice floating on top of the water. He saw one of these pieces of ice and decided to rest on it for a while. Kim fell asleep on it. When he woke up, he decided that he should continue on his journey to another place to live. When he stood up, part of his front legs fell through the ice and got stuck. Kim could not get them out and finally they got so cold and hard from the water, they broke off and sunk to the bottom. After he got over that tragedy, Kim started swimming and finally came to a place called Australia. They had many animals there and he be- came very happy. He adjusted to his front legs being shorter than his hind legs and now instead of him walking or crawling, he hopped and jumped. From then on, all the kangaroos had short front legs and hopped. Ann Overstreet

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Tomorrow Night The sun was hot and shone brightly as Northeaster High let out for the weekend. The kids stampeded out of the huge wooden doors and down the stone steps that led to Green Street. After everyone was gone Pat Wilson closed the locker she shared with Linda Wyatt, and started down the hall toward the doors. It was funny how long and lonely the halls were after everybody else was gone. She couldnit go home, at least not now, and face the empty apartment. It looked the same as it always had, but now something was missing. Mom wasn't there anymore. Now she was in some sterile, starchy white uniformed hospital, dying of some disease only the doctors could pronounce. Over and over Pat asked, Why, Mom? She finally went home and faced the apartment. Hoping beyond hope to hear Mom's voice call from the living room Is that you, Pat? Don't forget to hang up your coat. How was school today? Instead she found it the way she had left it, dark and lonely. Better get dinner started, Dad will be home soon, she said to herself knowing that neither of them would eat anything. After dinner they'd get dressed up and go see Mom. By now they had run out of cheery phrases and had quit planning fabulous vacations for the future. All they talked about now was the weather and the new red light on G Street. Then some saccarin nurse would come in and say We need to rest now. We'll see you again tomorrow night. Pat and her Father would get in the car and go home. Both of them blaming their sniffles and watery eyes on the colds they never got and knowing that one of those tomorrow nights the nurse talked about, would never come. Susan Park ' 49