Concordia College - White and Blue Yearbook (Milwaukee, WI)

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(z= PANS noemcmainieota enema dain let vn eH ag inninioa Manned PANRINSIRNINAAAA NNN Sear Serena wpm vse atnere senna A WR Ri HARARE TARA al ee hee LD ohn DE ent al to eee nnt Deen ied NJ ie SUEY AIA ermnab aan nat ace enehia naan detain erent dari e dda ne Das co demos OD Co eed N — Qu? WZ HE WHITE @ AND BLUE NJ 3s Ce were carrying on a disheartening siege. The general sentiment was in favor of capitulating. It seemed as though that which had been won would be given up without a fight. These t thoughts, however, were soon dispersed, as several loyal fighters banded together with the resolution LOVCAGyaOnero.tie@eidael eit spirit roused the afflicted leader. Arms were lifted, the battle undertaken, and, as the issue proved, with success. They won the final victory. Dreams of glory in other realms, in Flourland, in the Field of Saints, in the Southcountry, in the Fort of the Hoosiers, in eastern Gotham, all were shattered completely. Here the pedestal was fixed forever. Of course, one cannot expect fame to flit about forever, ultimately it must settle somewhere, and here was as good a place as any. Neither ought one grudge so zealous a champion his reward. Still when a contest is unevenly matched, too much of the pleasure it could afford is lost, too soon it ends. Even then, if the favor and attentions of the victors would endure, this early termination of the path of glory would yet have compensations. But alas! too true is the saying: Possession dulls the luster of the brightest gem. Far be this from accusing the victors of lack of appreciation. Their exultation over the. tri- umph, their proud boasts, their admiring glances, their careful handling, all has testified of their regard. Ah! yes, fondly the thought returns of a scene, one concert evening, when hosts of admiring visitors gathered around. Generous were their praises. But of all the tributes those gleaming eyes of one who quietly watched from a distance, one who had been greatly instrumental in winning this trophy, had Deenrva leaderesaidsthe most. Unforgettable also is a little incident happen- ing later that same evening when ail Thal gone home. A lone figure neared (whether by chance oy not is left to conjecture), passed with a sidelong look; then, secing the scene deserted, paused a nd returned. It was one who also had fought, but in the background, supporting those in front. As he stood there, scarcely daring to touch this precious object, he chanced for the first time to see his name forged on the surface. It held his gaze for a moment and lit up his eyes. Just to be a third-place name on this trophy of the contest was honor enough. How much such little evidences tell of appreciation. 3ut still, gradually, slowly, neglect is creeping in, the more so with the passing of the leaders. After the first victory no place was good enough to hold the pedestal. In the spacious dining-hall, in the eyes of all, it finally was set, tae to remain there an object of high esteem. But in time rever ence grew into familiarity and that into Pgticce est, until finally careless eae were ‘tempted to make the open bowl of this, their grand trophy, a mark for missiles, turning it soon into a container of waste and necessitating a removal to a more protected environment. For this nothing else but the sanctum of the Director would suit, a privileged place, indeed. Here it will long be ad- mired until some other place, even more suitable, is found, or until some other trophy usurps the throne, banishing this to things of the past: unkept, un- dusted, and unsung. Page Fifty-three

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ST TS nk nti oer nr RR ARR RARE ITA Ae AN RSENS SRA RNA RRA I ER HN SRE ARRAYS es = HITE @ AND BLUE Sy Kelertions of an Essay Cup The paths of glory lead but to the shelf. Thus muses what not long ago occupied the very storm center of a great contest, but now stands upon the lone prominence of an office safe, with no war cries ringing about it and with a long uninteresting future to look for- ward to. A great honor, of course, it 1s to bear the illustrious title of a grand trophy, but when some crack competitor cinches you in the sec- ond round, and then sticks you up in a cor- ner for the rest of your long life, the sweetness of the honor soon begins to px ll. To confess, it was a moment of rapture, when out of a long row of glittering mugs this was finally chosen to become the silver loving-cup in that great intercollegiate contest. Who would not be Literary Trophy elated to rise to such prominence in the literary Z ater Rss Co 2S a : 2 : . m “eae - eee world, with sixteen hundred brilliant young on Vv 2 . = Oakland. California, in 1920 men fondly casting their Cyes upon you and by Milwaukee in 721, ’22, ’23 z six big colleges vieing for the honor of your p SSESSI( nr Often in the dull moments of the present, memory reverts to those glorious times of the past, to the thrills those first combats afforded. Feverishly, but grandiosely, the plumed thoughts were arrayed on the feld of action. Proudly they dashed together. A din of slashing pens re sounded. The issue hung in suspense. Then with a mighty shout the knights from far off Oakland carried away the victory. Pleasant and sunny were those days spent in the castle by the sea, but they were not to last. A year went by; the contest was resumed; and then the pedestal of fame in the west had to be abandoned, as the triumphant portals of the Cream City opened to receive the emblem of victory. These new victors proved to be ardent and devoted lovers. Resolutely they again entered the lists in the following year and in a decisive battle renewed thei claim to victory. Fears now began to arise. Would the dominion of these warriors be permanent? Would the caresses of other champions be unrealized? The romance of it all waned suddenly as such apprehensions stalked into view. The interest of other challengers secmed to be quelled by the jealous hold of the present captors, Still, a goodly number rallied their forces for the next and, as it turned out to be, the final conflict. One circumstance on the eve before this battle for a moment promised to change the entire situation. The fighting spirit of the victors had sud- denly ebbed. Their strongest leader lay on the sick pallet. Outside forces Page Fifty-two

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NS FS wan Anne » Me - mm ee Wx PASSAT Ree te ee rere earns an ne tare nearness NY THE WF WE r Ke AN o BLU Kr IN } SF 3 A SQ ib = PANE Sm mmmnannnota wr arenema Mi oat S a nPno'y Ainge tion rice eethe BA MANNANIMSORUAN NS SN ae Sem pve 8 srere snag eens me AS = 5 aaa seen ara ee rcererannaneaeetT |, |, hmaneaaalbanenasemereesmeanneaensnennunnsnnensere —— N tx 2 % 2 Camping Ort Dear Chump, “L’ve bartered my sheets for a starlit bed; I've traded my meat for a crust of bread; I’ve changed my book for a sapling cane, And I’m off to the end of the world again.” Here I sit and dream and live, whether at the end of the world or where in the world it is, it makes no diiference, it is out of the world you are in, poor citified stay-at-home. You swelter in the heat; I lie on the smooth sand and let the cool waves lap over me. You sip the artificial beverage of the soda-fountain; I let the pure nectar of the crystal spring gurgle down my throat. You inhale dust and smoke; I breathe the washed zephyr off the bay and the sweet aroma of the clover-field strained through a forest of pine. The crowd jostles you and dins into your ear; I am alone, but for a few pals out in the boat lazily drift- ing and all about me is stillness, broken only by the notes of a feathered flute back in the woods, the swish-swash on the shore, and the hum of an old re- frain coming over the water. The long trail, the cool dip, the crackling fire, the bunk o’ leaves, the open sky, the pole and line, the wholesome grub, all these are words that belong to me. I’m wrapped up in fresh air, sunlight, and beauty, and know why they call nature “Grand.” If you want a thrill out here, get up early in the morning—I beg your pardon, get up any time you like—but in this instance, if you want a thrill, get up early in the morning, squat down on the shore, and behold the dawn. Morning birds sing a prelude, the misty veil floats away, and great beams of light illumine the scene, poking like silvery rafters out of the clouds. Then a shining disk as big as a cart-wheel appears, the bay glitters, and old Sol’s golden rays penetrate your being. You exult and throw yourself upon the glassy surface of the water with a splash, come up tingling, smell bacon and eggs, and race for your plate, ravenous. For adventure, not the aboriginal, primitive kind, but still real adventure, follow the trail. Take it through the deep woods, over a carpet of leaves and moss, and into the glade of fern and wild flowers. You come upon a sunny floor, matted with grass. You while a moment there, and then plunge into the shade of a ravine. The trail leads up, pokes into the gaping mouth of a cave, and then reaches a point from where the world lies stretched out below you. Or get up early some morning (remember you don’t have to, but it is your privilege) and take in forty miles of landscape, coming back when the trail is getting dark and the sun is setting in the west among the trees like a great red ball of fire. Stroll at night along the beach in the moonlight, gather the driftwood for a merry blaze, sit around, sing songs, tell stories, and dream. Page Fifty-four