Columbus School for Girls - Topknot Yearbook (Columbus, OH)

Page 29 text:

TOP-KNOT, 1928 me, and then was gone. Let these unknowing school girls laugh! For me, henceforth, life would hold a depth undreamed of. Life without tragedy was only a taunting and deceptive promise. I felt, with just cause, that I, who had lived fully, should know. Truly, I was in an exalted mood. Suddenly I heard two ladies speaking behind me, exchanging delicate confidences in cautious but perceptible tones. I pricked up my ears. There's little-I never could think of her name, Janet's daughter, you know-gazing into that window. I don't wonder her mother is wor- ried about her. She certainly looks peaked. If she were my daughter, I'd give her a good dose of cod-liver oil. Oh, yes! I heard she's enamoured of that clerk at the corner drug store, the one with the greasy hair. Such a coarse-looking fellow! Oh, well, she's young. I was young! I could stand the revolting word peaked , the dis- tasteful allusion to cod-liver oil, even the slur on my hero's romantic curls: but, after all that I had been through, I was not prepared to hear that I was young. That was too much. Yet, as I thought of what they had said, I began to wonder. All the glamor of the imagined episode in which I had been reveling departed. Taking oneself seriously is such a thankless task! PATRICIA STEWART, '28 WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF Hermine were Winter instead of Summer? Lucia were Big instead of Little? Betty were Loaf instead of Krumm? Alice were Did instead of Dunn? Virginia were Rock instead of Stone? Betty were Yards instead of Miles? Alice were June instead of May? Martha were Faun instead of Sater? Harriet were Tan instead of Brown? Mary Frances were Buick instead of Jordan? 15

Page 28 text:

COLUMBUS SCHOOL FOR GIRLS WE SEE OURSELVES ULL of the self-importance which a tragedy lends, I walked along the street, with obvious carelessness. Nothing-nothing mattered any longer! For me, now, life held no richness, it was barren of all future hope. Vague, soothing thoughts of the arsenic or iodine bottle flitted through my head. But no, I could not make use of them. I must consider the feelings of others and for their sakes bear up as well as possible under my great dolor. fNoble girl lb My eyes scanned the side- walk before me. It occurred to me that my future must be like it, cold and grey. How sorry-how very sorry-for myself I was. It seemed, as I continued my way, that passers-by regarded me with infinite interest. Although, in my desperation, I seemed to see none of the worldly things about me, now and then I was driven to observe the impression which my obvious grief and despair were making on my fellow-creatures. It was fortunate, I thought, that they could see only the outward evidences of the great tragedy which had befallen me. Carelessly, still oblivious, I crossed the street. Upon every side machines were bearing down upon me. What did I care? Death, now, would be sweet. Life meant nothing at all to one whose heart was crushed. Only two days before he had been there. Now he was gone. Never again should I see him. Those rich black curls, that delicately chiseled nose, those ravishing eyes were gone forever! Why had he gone? Some said that he was going to peddle ever-wear aluminum in a neighboring town. Surely that could not bel What could those curls know of sordid pots and pans? I could not understand. Then, suddenly, it occurred to me. He had realized the insurmountable social barrier which stretched between us and had determined to leave. He went because his going would make things easier for me! My heart swelled in admiration of that great courage by which alone he could have torn himself away. With dark, unseeing eyes I gazed listlessly into the shop windows, full of vain and foolish fripperies. Scornfully, I appraised a group of simpering school girls raving inarticulately about the Nile green undies so immodestly displayed in the window. How little these shallow crea- tures knew of reality! Once more my glance returned to the window. There I saw mirrored a pale, wan face and deep-shadowed eyes. Could it, oh, could it, be I? Alas, no one could go through all that I had without betraying symptoms of tragedy. Again a wave of self-pity surged over 14

Page 30 text:

COLUMBUS SCHOOL FOR GIRLS IN A CHOIR LOFT HE music of the great organ rolled upon me, overwhelmed me, shook my timid heart, I held back, frightened, then started for- ward in a panic-I was being left behind, 1 could not make an entry alone. It seemed ages till I caught up with them and gained my place in the procession. We swung down the aisle with slow-measured step-left foot, teeter totterg right foot, teeter totterg left swing, right swingg keep time, keep time: look up, look upg don't shake my vestments, heart, calm yourselfg calm yourself 3-all the way to the choir loft. It was our first Sunday. None of us had ever before made a public appear- ance. What agonies we suffered! The first ordeal had passed without catastrophe, seated, I had just breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed that everyone else was standing -I alone sat. I weighed a thousand pounds. I was glued fast to the chair. I had a stroke of paralysis. I could not stir. Screwing up all my strength, I gave a mighty heave and there I stood with my fellow choristers. The organ began its fearful rumbling, while at just the proper moment our directress gave a reassuring smile, inclined her head fthe signal for us to get readyj, gave the dreaded up stroke of the baton four cuel, then displayed an expression of the most profound surprise. My fellow sufferers QI had thought them so calm, so collectedj, stood with gaping mouths issuing not a sound. The organist, ingenious, God-sent man, was repeating a chord over and over. After this harmonious but monotonous combination of sounds had been played several times in each of its variations, we found our voices and a remnant of that invincible courage peculiar to youth. With an impetus marvelous to hear we sent out the first note of the song. Full and strong it soared to the high vaulted roof, bellowed, resounded, and finally died away into an almost inaudible whine, just as our newly acquired bravado welled and grew, then oozed into nothingness. There was a bass and soprano duet in the song. I was the soprano: the bass was a huge fellow to my right. At one part of the duet he was to take a very low note while I at the same time took a very high tone. A most horrible fear gnawed at my entrails at the precise moment that I was to take my high note. Up my quavering voice went, up, up, up. I could not stop itg it would not go down, it would not stay still, but imbued with the spirit of the edifice in which I 16