Cumnock School - Chronicle Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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L I T E R A T U R E IVIY PHILOSOPHY IA class assignment, extemporaneously writtenl Suzanne Vidor Anyway, I know I don't want to be the kind of person I am now. If it were possible, l'd like to develop into a composite of all the things I now lack. In the first place, I would like to be strong-strong, not necessarily of mind, but more of will and personality, which may be the same thing, but I doubt it. l'd like to know instinctively the right thing to do at the right time. And it seems to me that could be acquired even though it appears instinctive. I'd like to be more honest, primarily with myself, and of course, with others. Frankness, of course, would go along with honesty. Now I would like to be able to have very high ideals about what I want to be, and how I want to beg but I would like to have the self assurance and perseverance to carry them out. Moreover, I would like to be able to enjoy life more. I would like to throw off a very stupid faculty of making myself unhappy when there is ab- solutely no cause. In all I would like to be able to live fully, honestly, and joyfully with everything in life. Note: This ideal seems to me to be a true picture of what you already are.-H. B. C-OODBYES Ronnie Bamburger I hate goodbyes- They seem so silly, so futile, so sad. They put an end to all the joyous friendship we have had, I hate goodbyes. I hate farewells and tears- And when you go, say not goodbye They seem so tragic, so ending, so mad, just turn away and smile and say, I hate farewells and tears. I know we'll meet again someday - And go. 72

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L I T E R A T U R E 'K At last the hour of torture was over and we returned the bikes to the rental agency. As I limped up, the attendant smiled ingratiatingly and said, Would you girls care to take these out for another hour? I still can't, for the life of me, see how I managed to hold my temper in check at this last salt-pouring on an open wound. Somehow I managed to drag myself home and fall comfortingly onto my bed. Only one grain of sat- isfaction did I retain after this harrowing experience, At least it was good exercise and I needed it, I thought to myself. But it sounded slightly hol- low even to me in weakened condition. A TEACHER'S POINT OF VIEW Ronnie' Bamburger At times they seem afraid of me, The room with sun their faces fill, But it is I who wants to flee- Yet they always give me chills- I sit in fright They sit and shout While they all write While I pass out-- An answer. My pupils! Oh I shall never teach again, I try to teach them English verbs, l'll leave that task to big strong men-They sit and ho and hum their words- They'll sit and grin I stand and shake At my coffin- While they all fake A teacher. An answer. HERETIC Bill Pearson I saw the throngg I saw the throneg I made my choiceg I stand alone. 7l

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L I T E R A T U R E ODE TO A DEAD SOLDIER Ronnie Bamburger They put a gun in your hands And said, Shoot You shot- You who did not wish to kill, Killed. Your mind was full of pictures Of people dying- Those you had killed. You were told to keep on trying- There were more and more To be killed. Your hands that once were rough from sport Were rough with war and hardship: Your body that once was tired from ease Crew tired from never sleepingg Your dreams when you dozed Were tortured with guns and flaming fire- You'd start up screaming Of dug-outs and bodies entangled with wire. They put a gun in an enemy's hands And said shoot , He shot- And now you are dead: You are a hideous mass Of red stained death. You went with a painful sigh, A choking breath And yet- Somehow l know- You were more than glad to go.