Eastern High School - Echo Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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A Rose of ,QQ

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A Page of Poems My Chariot of Memory SOPHIA LEUTNER '29 My Chariot of Memory goes back to long ago.' To childhood days when all was play and naught I knew of woe, To first school days when readers red and spelling books of yore Conducted me into the realms of vast and boundless lore. But of the many things I pass as I go riding by, None seem so bright and none so fair as days in Eastern High. Tlzose days when mighty Knowledge over all the land held sway, Commanding me to take his gifts all spread in bright array, Those days when plays, athletics, games, of each and ev'ry kind, Were just the means we used way back in The name of Eastern to defend in ev'ry Oh, happiness within us reigned through dear old Twenty-nine single fray,- ev'ry single day. Jly Chariot of Iliemory has passed along its way, Hut just to view the olden times will come another day. These days have passed beyond me far, no more within recall, But Memory can take me back to view them one and all. --M.-Q-4-...T- Inspiration DOROTHY SINCLAIR '29 fWith all necessary apologiesj When, in despair, witlz writers' cranip besides, I late at night bemoaned my mind's dull state, When, though to think and write Iid tried and tried, I simply couldn't jinish that debate, Wishing me like to one who'd found, to use, Authorities-like her with brains possest, Desiring this girl's issues, that girl's views fhly own were rather vague, to say the leastj : When finally, with puckered brow perspiring, By chance I came on thee, when hope was gone, Then you, iny tired brain and arm inspiring, Revived my drooping spirits, spurred me on. For you, O little note, such facts did state That with your help I finished the debate. My Crush M. C. T, '29 lt'Vhen hrst I came to Eastern High A solemn vow I took,- I'll never have a 'crush', eried I, To break my pocket book. I'll steel 1ny heart against attack, To lessons I'll be truef' And then one day-alas! alaek! I met my W'aterloo. 'Twas on the street I saw-first, My lzeart beat loud and fast ,' But that, you'll see, was not the worst, For now all hope is past. Eaeh day I deeper, deeper sink, My vow has now gone pop! DVho is my erush ?-lfVhy, can't yo Our guardian the cop. ' Q40 -XP G QS Page I 9 u think

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TUMBOY FLORENCE MATCHAR '32 a EH TOMBOYF, The girl smiled and called back. That name hurled at her was not an in- sult. It had been her name since she was three years old. Her real name had been forgotteng it was such a pretty name too: Diane Emerson. But that name was no more, scarcely had it ever been. Her mother had given up all hope of Diane's ever being as dainty and feminine as her name. At three years she had seen her throw a ball with a sharp, swift curve. She had told her she was a little tomboy. Diane went out and told her play- mates that she was a little tomboy. That name had stuck to her ever since. But Tomboy was so tired of the name. She was a girl: she wanted to be treated as a girl. She wanted to wear dainty white dresses as all the girls did g she wanted to be called Diane g and most of all, she wanted to be able- to talk as all the girls did. Most of the girls' ins her class would gather around one table in the 'cafeteria and talk about their boy-friends and parties Tomboy never had such topics to discuss. She had friends among boys, mind you, but all they ever talked about was ball or some other sport. And as for parties! Tomboy had never been to parties. She was popular when it came to mak- ing the teams, her school or class team never had a chance to win unless Tomboy was on it. But when it came to parties they all forgot Tomboy. Yes, they liked her, she was nice, but- She wouldn't have a good time at the party, all the boys like feminine, not athletic, girls. Besides- she can't dance. . . . All she would be able to talk about is sports. . . . At a party she would be a complete failure. They did not realize that below that tomboyish mask there was a girl as pretty, and dainty, and lovable as any of them, a Diane well worthy of her name. No one ever guessed that the hard- boiled, mannish-looking Tomboy Emerson, like any other normal girl, had her dreams of the knight that sometime in the future would come riding on a big black horse. No one guessed that Diane could dance, had learned to dance by watch- ing the others at school. And of course no one would ever imagine that Tomboy could cry be- cause somebody gave a party and almost every- one was invited but her. Tomboy's mannish looks had concealed all the dainty, feminine beauty bequeathed to her by her still daintier mother. A golden-brown crop of Page Zi hair was cut and pushed back so hard and slick with water that all its natural waves were gone. Beneath a large white forehead that marked her intelligence, were brown eyes that were always sad, even though her lips smiled.. A keen and sympathetic observer could have told at one glance the dreams that were behind those eyes, but no one noticed Tomboy closely enough for that. Golden-brown freckles that matched her ,hair dot- ted her small straight nose. Her red lips were free from cosmetics, and through them gleamed two even rows of white teeth. Most of the time she wore a navy blue suit, with a tight-fitting, straight-lined skirt and a jacket 3 beneath that was a mannish shirt and a jazzbow tie. Her legs were always clad in socks or sport hose and nothing else but sport oxfords had ever been seen on her feet. There was another thing that nobody knew, not even her mother, for she had never taken the time to look. Once Tomboy had seen in a window a dress, one of the kind she had dreamed of. It was a dainty vision of blue organdyf' She had longed for thatdress-ached for it. She hated to ask her mother to buy it and she knew that if she ever wore the dress she would be teased and tormented for she knew not how long. So, no one knowing, Tomboy had taken her en- tire monthly pocket-money and had spent every cent of it for the dream dress. She had never worn it outside her own room, but every night she could not go to bed without having tried the dress on. With it she had purchased a pair of silk hose and cuban-heeled pumps. The only thing that had spoiled it was her hair. That dress didnyt look just right with her hair pushed back so hard and slick. She had parted it on the right side and brushed it, bringing back the waves and making it soft and silky. The hair curled around her face in what the girls called a windblown bob. It suited her to perfection. Yeh Tomboy! And Tomboy, on this par- ticular morning, as many times before, smiled and called back, but her heart was heavy. Gonna try for the team ? Sure So long. See you in the gym, girl friend. The girl turned and again took up her inter- rupted conversation with the boys. Girl friend, thought Tomboy bitterly. I-Iumph! And last week when she had her party she forgot all about her girl friend !