East High School - Quill Yearbook (Des Moines, IA)

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Dangerous Curves Ahead Dangerous curves ahead! Oh, what a terrible warning for a girl like me, with such a love for good things. It was my mother who decided things had gone far enough, and took matters into her capable hands. I was doomed. ' My form, which was not unshapely but well-padded, was to be chiseled by one method or another until I was the fashionable shape of ai tooth pick, upon which my frocks would hang as though still on a clothes hanger. I rebelled, but the uprising was sternly put down, and I was a target of this cold-bloodedphrase, that it- was for my own good, -odious phrase. ,QE ly ig I submitted to being put on a diet. I-Iow I hated it! None of my favorite dainties could be indulged-I could eat only corn Hakes, while the family enjoyed hot biscuits with melting butter, crisp green salads, flaky baked potatoes, roast pork with its crisp fat still crackling, and a tempting dessert topped with a fluff of whipped cream. I sat nibbling corn flakes and reflecting on the Injustice of Life. Oh, Mom, don't I get ANYTI-IING?', Do you mean to say you want to break your diet at the very first move? Have you no will power F Under her glance I subsided, and my father suggested that perhaps an olive wouldn't hurt me as its caloric value was low. An olive! I wanted FOOD. After two weeks of this, I was led expectantly to the scales, which were to present me with the reward of my torture. One look at its smug, round face informed me, I had lost nearly three-eighths of a pound! Was it worth it? I didn't think so, and I presented myself accordingly at the table for supper, a determined expression on my face. In spite of protest from the family, I ate and ate and ATE, for the first time in fourteen days. ' Peg, if you eat any more, you'll burst, cried Mother. Well, I said coldly, pass the potatoes, and get out of the Way l MARGARET BARRON, '30. An Autumn Leaf The Silent Artist raised his palette, And dipped his brush in the deep sunset, I-Ie spattered a leaf with this autumn red 'Till the bright young thing tossed its silly headg It danced to the music of little gold flowers, Its laughter rang out like bells in far towers, It sang with the stream, and raced with it, too. For it, there was nothing too daring to do. 'Till one day it woke at the first break of dawn, To find all the brightness of Yesterday gone 3 It tried to sing, but its voice made no sound, 'Twas a trepidant leaf that fell to the ground. MARGARET PECK, '31, Page Twenty

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e '-16? X T:- A dash for a tray-a dash for a table. Squeeze into line, if you think you're able. Oh! VVhat a meal l'ni going to get, Do you smell those potatoes and red hot spaghet'? I can hardly wait to fill up the space, That lies under my -belt and all 'round my waist. Oh here we are now! l'll take some of that- Gee, but I'm hungry-quit pushing me, Fat. Now l'm all ready. Let's start with the feed. Oh ! I've got to hurrv-l've got English to read. ' L LILMA PATTEE, '32, The Back Seat Driver Mrs. jones decides that she would like to go for a ride in her new car. As Mrs. jones is used to having her own way, she and mischievous little Jimmy step into the back seat of the car, while Mr. Iones reluctantly climbs into the driver's seat. Now, Pa, begins Mrs. jones, do be careful when you back out of this driveway. You might happen to bump into that telephone pole. She sees a car approaching a block away. Pa! put on your brakes quickly. There's a car coming, up there a little ways oE. Mr. Jones slams on his brakes. It's all right now, Pa. That car turned at the corner. Thank good- ness, we came out of that driveway safely. Look out! There's a nail on the street. Don't run over it, or we'll have a blowout. Pa manages to run the front tire right square over the nail, Qwhich proves to be only a stickj. Pal Didn't I tell you not to run over that nail? By this time Jimmy thinks that it is about time to put in a word. Oh! Mother! Look at that pig. Look quick. Hush, Jimmy, I don't have time to look at everything. Silence ensues for a minute or two. Pa is so overcome with surprise that he turns his head to see if Mrs. jones is still there. Pa, ,don't turn around and look at nie. I'll take care of myself. You might run into a ditch. She sees a yellow sign, some distance away. y Now what in the world does that sign say? Oh! It says it's a 'turn.' Now drive slowly. Pa speeds up. Didn't you see that sign that said to drive slowly? Don't drive so close to the edge, you'll go right into that fence. Here comes a car! Get on your own side, quick. Papa, look at that house, screams jimmy. Hush, Jimmy. Don't bother papa when he's driving. Are we home already? WHS11,f that a nice ride? Didn't you enjoy it, Pa P . MARIAN CARLSON, '3l. Page Nineteen

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o fs for safes Wings The world must love the sound of wings, The fluttering, soaring, evasive things. Delicate wings of brilliant hues, Fine cool wings like morning dews, Wings our hearts keep, but our eyes soon lose, Butterfly wings. Feathery wings of a warm, bright day, Hide and seek with the wind they play, Loving wings that Hy away, Birdling wings. Strong silver wings that mount on high, Light-hearted wings that touch the sky, Wings that show us the way to fly, Wings of Man. The world must love the sound of wings, Fluttering, soaring, evasive things. . . . TXQARGARET PECK, '31. The Biography of a Whirlwind J Even before the sunrise there had been something suffocating in the air. After the sun rose, his rays had beaten on the yellow of the wheat, the dry stubble ofthe barley, the gray-green of the oats, the black-green of the maize, and the black alleys of soil between the corn-rows, like the downward strokes of wielded flame. Every breathing creature needed air, but not the occasional hot putt, now from the south, now at the next movement from the east or the west. These puiis were so hot as to suggest that they had been blown from iireg people moved out of the breeze for comfort, instead of into it. In the northwest, the clouds hung draped in pendant folds. Rising from the southwest was a .vast curtain of clouds. The leaves hung motionless in the parched air. 1 Suddenly appeared the queerly shaped cloud of which they who watch the tornado always tell afterward. The black funnel-shaped cloud hung there, threshing about, moving back and forth like a starved beast searching for food. Everything under it was hidden by sheets of rain or hail or dust or mist! It was coming on, coming fast! Now the funnel touched the earth! And now! Out of its sides and top as it came on, a thousand things were thrown, as if the funnel were a great grinding-machine! A roar like the clashing of railway trains afar off began to be heard. It came on, roaring louder and louder! It was hurling things upward and onward-trees, posts, beams, frag- ments of destroyed buildings. It was dark, and- The tornado was over, but not forgotten. MARGUERITE VVRIGHT, '30. Page Tweutysone