Eleanor McMain High School - Echoes Yearbook (New Orleans, LA)

 - Class of 1945

Page 25 of 68


Eleanor McMain High School - Echoes Yearbook (New Orleans, LA) online yearbook collection, 1945 Edition, Page 25 of 68
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Page 25 text:

man toog but now it seemed long, long ago that I had moved in that in- significant circle and had so much as acknowledged those known as my predecessors. Could I possibly have been as tiny as this swarming mass about me? I thought I had known so much. Could it have been that I too was ignorant of all but thex basic fundamentals? Helping these be- wildered and frightened newcomers was just one of my many added tasks. But oh! what a glorious task it was. Here was my chance to let everyone know that I was a Senior. Here was my opportunity to direct and com- mand, and inwardly 'to wonder at the helplessness of the new generation that was following in thefootsteps of this wonderful Senior class -of mine. Could these wee mites in their pres- ent apparent stupidity ever rise to the station of a Senior possessing all the knowledge that was mine on this first day of my Senior A term. As this class holds elections, and plans for graduation, my thoughts are reaching ahead to the last week of my four years of high school. That week, which will be filled to over- flowing with luncheons, parties, and programs, is the one which all girls dream of. We wonder who will come out first? We wonder who will win the English cup? These questions are foremost in the minds of my class- mates and me as we anxiously await honor day and graduation. The ma- jority of the girls in my class have spent their entire four years at Mc- Main and we are all held together by the bond of human friendship which comes from close association through the years. ' We are the class of '45, and in graduating will separate to go in many directions, moving towards our individual goals. Some will go. on to finish their education in the various universities and colleges of the na- tion. Many will enter the business On Writing Essays . By Mary Nell Dorman, '45 HAVING more than the usual share of wisdom and comprehension, I have taken it upon myself to in- struct those slow minded creatures who compose a large part of my pres- ent English class upon the art of writing essays. Recently I was ask- ed to broadcast my views upon the subject over the Purple Network but decided to postpone my address, not deeming it right to enlighten the world before giving my own beloved classmates of lower mental capacities than myself the benefit of my erudi- tion. So, at this point I shall begin, hop- ing that you will pay the most duti- ful attention to very word. Believe me, great things are in store for you: greater, indeed, than brighter minds could reasonably comprehend. Per- haps, though, you have already read my short stories, poetic works, bi- ographies, and histories, and are al- ready brimming over with uncontroll- able enthusiasm and passionate fer- vor at the prospect of being inspired, and lifted to the- heights of joy by the heart warming style with which I convey even the most d-ull and monotonous facts written by learned men of former ages. Let me, before getting into the heart of the subject, present my views upon the work of the noted essayists of the past. It is the honest and firm opinion of the writer that those essays of Carlyle, Lamb, Hux- ley, and others are too difficult to be read by those of your ability. lf there are passages which you don't understand after looking up the more difficult words in the dictionary I Wm.- ' ' ' 9 ' Fi fil s E ' I?5i1 fE-Ti Qi' ii i L. tv m..---. ..f-.-., 1 .L U - f - , , . , . . , . . . X W5 , Q , 'P' - ' 1 . . 1- J' - ' ' 255- '- I 77- -. f' -' .r .. . - . M . U ig-, ti . . Q .4 fx .Ml ,-.ug - - . P, ,-ALfi,fQ:5: ,ga ,fx- ' 'JM Il ' - ifpgi ,ar X - raft: f V - .. 5. 5,35-. ,, 1 V in Q . . . ,.:.K!, . - .-., ., . words are then merrily dashed off , when, suddenly and without warning, I all thoughts cease and the writer is at a loss for words. Commonly this is regarded as only a temporary slow- -- . 'Fw ing down of the brain to allow the ' v 5 -if, 1 pose. Approximately two hundred . , if I 2 befuddled thing to collect some new ideas. But alas, after some time has . been spent in fruitless struggle, the harassed essayist ordinarily decides '-137 that the right text wasn't chosen, whereupon he very rashly. but cere- , 5-- moniously tears the parchment into JT' a thousand tiny bits and chunks it . i as into the wastebasket, thinking it a good riddance. This only goes to A- if-N .ab .gf show how inexperienced and un- -' patriotic the penman is. If only he ' 33 knew the? injusticelhe had done him- self! Had he donated the paper to the scrap drive he might have been .ff able to recover it. - Lf. Directly succeeding this incident A the unhappy person seats himself ',-,-.E and, after much more deliberation .- than before, begins anew. This time , he writes only a page of witty and 1 beautiful statements, when to his dis- may, he finds himself in the same A 'Big predicament as beforeg he finds that I 'gtg he knows no more about How To Raise an Orchid Bush in the Back- yard than he knew of The In- 'V tricacies of the Japanese Language. ' fi .,,. , He then recalls the fate of the first .-.., 1 in . essay. But with all his wishing he cannot bring it back. At this time I should suggest that the author have someone near to restrain him from -, Y P J s. g 1 v- some desperate action.. ' Unknowingly the poor writer thinks - all his trouble is caused by too much - igjftil noise. What he needs, he erroneously thinks, is solitary confinement. Since .,.x it is beyond the power of the un- fortunate individual to make 'the neigbbor's baby refrain from exercis- I ing his lungs he retreats to the park., gf' But never' does it enter his mind to 'iii give upg no, not under any condi- world. In years to come the gap be- Shall be glad to 9-USW91' all inquiries- tions. After about three attempts, Qfi tween us will widen as we follow dif- fThGI'6 is T10 cost iY1V01V9d- Merely and then returning home, it sudden- i ferent paths. In years to come, some Semi 3 Stamped, Selfmddressed en' ly dawns upon thewriter that his , few will be forgotten in the turmoil V910De and enclose two T00.tSle Cereal teacher precisely said to make an jj,-if of an everchanging world. In years t0PSl- outline. My sympathy lies with the f L. Qfjl, to come, memories willgrow dim and Before beginning the writing of miserable character. Can't you See I mental pictures fadeg but many years the essay proper, the log-ical thing to him, sitting at his study table, his nj V -. from now, when others are graduat- ,do is to choose a subject. This is hair tousled, gazing wearily at the. ing from high school, I shall look much more difficult thanlit sounds. pages and pages before him, some' back and remember the year when I One usuauy has about ten or twelve crumpled, others with half the Words, ' crossed the threshold of McMain to Subjects in mind. gnly after much blotted out and many marginal notes? enter the world at large. serious reflection is it decided which Yet all this energy was exerted for fzff - Jean Burnett 45. of these- best suits the writer's pur- fContinued on page'50j .. I E-C-H-O-E-S 1 V ' Twenty-three E A K ,-'.' i Iliff ,. -i Q ,1.. f-. , I - ,f,'r if'.,-,fLQ2l,i,g3s'fi.4'f, .--'j,.f 1.5. A 'J i

Page 24 text:

7 'f ,rx- vr -., ,i 4 '. - -' - ' -, Y '- - -was-FN... W Y .-S, 'rr-1-fx,-. we-s IlY1'1f'T9'59 TTI'T' fs Tift , 'f-if 'T-risieffei - 1f'f 3F:. 1?:-ui' Q . 5'EiT-'iii' ' .- -Q.. .-.'-. -g-if-H .3-. '-- W Am- 57.1,7-t.1vl,-,gw-'-.,jf'l.,- A-,-11 w, - -V -' , . . ' .X -- , :,, ,-A ,I V, . 75.1. . -1 ' g - +.- '..,:f .:.: l,.- 1 :4 Q! L Y .P- 5-Q6 The Ages . . v 1 1 f 5 C - w 5116 , A we lil. . r l.LI?,4,, , wi , 1,-. if S . , tis, 1. ,M woe- -' I ,at-, .,. n f . item! 1 11 ' Y 1' V, 'S ANY. .- , . I .1 it - l 'Jr ffl! . K Y, , .. I an 1 j' -gf ' ' - . l 97 Cx' s . .', l S' 131 t ' ' I qw, ., f'.I-.I'- .,. Sli , ' fiff. fake' ' 43 ' it-J ,., .,.. I A r, . E315 ' , .511 ,, 7 S14 L, V., Ss, . 'Ubi Adi' , I '. .nc WL' ' 1 ,,--, -4 E? . 1 ., ,. etc. T rg, x Q. 1. .ggi . I e .yr .- I ' -1' ,JAKE-i-I , ..... fi., -a - I s -A by l 'E 1, UW., 1- .ah ,, , N ,ta li . .Jw ll l F4 N Vw , 4-.1' ' 1 z' ' 3-lfL'y1iliA.1,,Li M - Great captains, with their guns and drums Disturb our judgment for the hours, But at last silence comesf, These all are gone, and, standing like a lower, . Our children shall behold his fame The kindly, earnest, brave, foreseeing .marz, Sagacions, patient, dreading praise r:o! blame, - New birfb of our new soil, The First American. HAVE you ever wanted to meet a man of the ages, one existing only in books and in the minds and hearts of the people of this genera- tion? This inclination is not a fancv which will soon fade away to become an obsession, for a thought like this penetrates into one's mind until it becomes a torment. Ever since the dav I realized the importance of a history book I have admired one of the truly great men, Abraham Lin- coln. He fought to preserve the Un- ion for which we are now fighting: he considered the necessity of prov- ing that popular government is not an absurdity. Had not it been for his tragic death, he would have lived to see his dreams materialized. For it seems he'was sacrificed during the time his services were most needed. If he had lived, what would have been his desires for this country, and how could such a seemingly unattain- able goal be reached? Question upon question-could they be answered? They were, or at least, my mind un- derstood to a greater extent this statesman, whose hands had helped to tie together the bonds of a broken nation. N About sunset one afternoon. I lay on my bed letting my eyes wander to the ceiling. At my first glance I saw a rough place in the yellow-lined iwallpaper, caused from the damp weather, but as I continued to stare, my eyes focussed upon something en- wtirely different. The rough place gradually formed into a huge hill, and the lines were paths leading to the top. To my surprise, I was .ascending one of these paths toward aitall, lean, angular man, who seemed to appear from nowhere and walk in Twenty-Iwo. x my direction. Upon reaching me, he gently took my hand, and we started walking to the top, which seemed so far away in the distance. I looked up and completely observed my compan- ion. He wore tails and his face was lean, with many small lines: his hair was 'tousled by the wind. When I finally caught my breath I asked- And so at last I meet you, Mr. Lincoln? I have come a long way. He nodded with a smile, and that smile transformed his face into one of kindliness, sincerity, honesty, and wisdom! His voice, when he spoke, was not shrill, but low and calm. Yes, my dear, you have come from a world of war. Oh! will there never cease to be wars! My memory recalls another war. One night many years ago I stood by a window look- ing out at the soldiers marching home, tired and worn. That moment I wanted dreadfully to be a young man again, reading law by pitchpine light with friendliness of the people around me. But Tim waits for no man as its passes sp edily on. Soon I was no longer called Abe Lincoln of Illinois, but 'President Lincoln. Then out of the stillness of the dawn, cannons boomed, and soldiers march- ed away to fight. These soldiers fought to vindicate the principles of self-government. They knew in their hearts that the conflict would be a lasting one. They fought and died! Homes were broken, leaving only the weeping families! The thing I was forced to do was right, yet it troubled me to the end. . 'All persons held as slaves within such designated states and parts of states are, and hence forward shall be free! ' But the land had to be free: the North and South had to be free. These soldiers below my window slunk homeward, doubting victory. My heart felt for the South, and I longed for it to emerge from the deep dark depths of oblivion to hold its head up again. It has been a long, hard struggle, but it overcame this obstacle. My wishes were carried out indirecuy by the leaders who 'fol- lowed in my footsteps. ' Again to-day a dark cloud has passed over as war emerged from selfishness and desire for power on -the part of so many people. The re- maining people fought because they wanted to protect something dear to them. That something' needs no . ' ' . V,-xi, I. .fxgix-fz, ,ay ...y.v. explanation, K for the' simple Word, freedom, means so much in itself. The names of Bull Run, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, Appomattox, shall always ring in my ears as Tarawa, Iwo Jima, Guam, D-Day, Guadalcanal, shall ring in yours. Yet, in our hearts we know- . 'That, these dead shall not have died in vaing that this nation under God, shall have a new birth of free- dom, and that the government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from this earth? 5' As though some unseen hand had dismissed me, I slowly descended the hillside, and at the bottom I turned and looked up for one last glimpse of this man of the ages, ,who gave such a clear conception of the pres- ent. He waved when he saw me glance back, and as quickly as he had come he disappeared, for I was staring at the yellow-lined wallpaper on the ceiling. I did meet him, though, if only in adream! Lenore Monnot '45, Rcvcric ON that first day of my Senior A term, I woke with only one thought: I was finally on the last lap of my Senior year. To think that in only a little over four months I should be graduating was almost too much. I sank back on my pillow to enjoy the deliciousness of contempla- tion, only to be interrupted a few minutes later by the sound of Moth- er's voice asking, Are you never going to get up? I was so excited I could scarcely dressy but the clock ticked menacingly 'on, and I knew that I must not be late on this of all days. V My arrival at the school was greeted byfa chorus of voices, Senior A voices, welcoming others and my- self into their smug, complacent group. Four years had taken its toll and those who were left had won their places as Seniors with blood, sweat, and tears. We had at last reached the top and. quite naturally expected all to wonder at the marvel- ous new Seniors. But those' other students of lower rank, walked right' by, quite happily oblivious of our thrilling status, not realizing that our joy could not be drowned by their ignoring- us. ' ' '- 'I had. once been an underclass- . E-G-H-01228 gf -.1:l,f,1 , 3 -,te . V. i-. . V, -v 4. ,- n, l -i-,-was-,--'1. 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Page 26 text:

rsnz. h, ,::'.v.,, 4 g ,u 1 --gr, ,I X 'W- ' , Ile- 'f ' '-1 'f-set -I ' ac, ww,',.:-- On Handshakes By Georgia Fischer, '45 IT has been said, Your personality is revealed through- your hand- shake . Therefore great pains should be taken to achieve such a handshake that will cause everybody to know that the performer has the finestper- sonality ever. This can be done bv observing many people'-s handshake-s and benefiting by their mistakes. First, there is the Bone-breaking Handshaken. This is usually the greeting from a happy, red-faced gentleman who enjoy-s food and ob- viously eats plenty of it. He will walk up to you, a broad smile on his shining face. and with Aa gentle pat on his back, which leaves you breath- less, he grabs your hand in a vise- like grip and swings it up and down until your face grows pale and your weak admonishings are finally under- stood. For the next four or five minutes, as you slowly regain your former composure, you are besieged by the heroic account of your com- panion's last fishing trip during which he, of course, played the leading role. Occasionally, too. as he pauses in his exciting tale it is up to you to or Nah . Finally. interject ooh as his eye falls on another victim. you get another pound on the back and a hearty good-bye. As soon as your companion's back is turned all attention rivets to the hand. You massage it with great care and hope never to meet his kind again. Then there is the Cold-fish Hand- shake . This greeting is typical of simply delightful ladies who, after shaking an uncountable number of hands at their social gatherings simu- ly cease to exert pressure atgall. If you have ever had this gruesome ex- perience you know what an empty, lost feeling you get when expecting a responsive return you suddenly find yourself holding an inanimate object which 'refuses to react at any cost. Finally you drop the hand with an expression of mild disgust, politely mutter au-revoir and continue on your way. ' g A handshake that, if you care much about tact and good manners in -so- ciety, will throw you .off your guard completely, is the 'fMight-have-been Handshaken. A hostess at a U.S.O. dance, for instance, comes in con- Twenty-four ' tact with this type only too often. Knowing that a lady should always put her hand out first, she politely extends hers and waits for a response. A few seconds pass and becoming puzzled her gaze rises from a tightly clenched fist up a stiffly starched sleeve to a slightly rounded shoulder and finally to a freshly scrubbed face of a young soldier only to discover his eyes intently observing what the younger generation would call a slick chick . She withdraws her hand with a patient sigh and moves on to greet another G.I. Joe. There is also the Ill-mannered Handshaken. Only members of the stronger sex are guilty of this mis- take. Sometimes, when, trying to make a good impression on a lovely lady, he is a little too eager and ex- tends his hand first. The lady whom he is so rudely addressing looks down on him with disdain in her hard eyes and coldly moves away. , Last, but surely not least is the Correct Handshakeu. This greeting should be the aim of every person. In it is expressed with true sincerity one's happiness and pleasure at meet- ing or seeing again an old friend. The best example of this handshake is the 'strong clasp of a minister who, at peace with all the world, endeavors to extend his true happiness to others. With this thought, I conclude, and I leave it to you, reader, to decide which of these handshakes applies to you. . Georgia Fischer, 45., I n Writing Letters By Barbara Terry, 45 ERRIE, Weezie, Johnny, Dot, Jon- sie, June-golly, shall I ever finish answering these letters? Just as soonas I getone written, another one drops through the mail-slit in the door to the rug beneath, and I begin the cycle all over again. Now, mind you, I'm not complaining 'about re- ceiving mailg it's only the fact that getting a letter means answering a letter, and that alone ,is my com- plaint. E . I don't know why, but every time I sit down to write a short letter, I always end with a manuscript of about :six pages, and a bad case of write1j's cramp. Where I get all the ideas to fill that much space is be- yond me. I often wonder what the person who receives the letter thinks as he contemplates the pages. Does he think, Oh, joy! Another nice, long letter from Whoozit! Or does he despairingly remark, Will she ever quit writing long letters? Now I'll have to sit down and rack my brain to find news enough to answer her. Or is he the third type, whose only remark is, N'uts! This is the type of person who never answers letters. This third type includes the person who will never write a thank-you note, because he doesn't know what to say. Anyway, he thinks the send- er of such a beautiful present should know he likes it, so what's the use of going to the trouble of 'writing a thank-you note? After a while he receives no more presents or cards, and wonders what has happened to all his former friends. The more common type in this category, however, is the person who receives a lengthly epistle from a very dear friend whom we'1l call Ben . Ben begins his letter with, I haven't heard from you in a long time, and ends with Write soon, of course expecting a long letter in return. But he doesn't reckon with our dear friend, the more common type. This person thinks to him- self, Pd better wait a little bitfbe- fore I write him, so that I can gather some news to make my answer long- er. So he Waits, and week after week passes. Finally, his conscience begins to bother him, and he decides he had better write the thing and get it over with. As he sits at his desk, pen in hand, doubts begin' to assail him and he wonders whether dear old Ben still lives in Detroit. Maybe his firm has transferred him to Kan- sas City. That's where he was the last time I wrote, he remembers. Or maybe he's been drafted. He did say something about it in his let- ter. That's it! I-Ie's been drafted! It won't do any good to write to him now. It'll take too long to catch up. I'll just wait till he writes again and tell me his new address. So, his conscience eased by this effort, unsuccessful though it was, he goes blithely about his business. He likes Ben! Surely, he's one of his very best friends. But they've been separ- ' V - Q E-C-H-O-E-S. Q -2' 'f 2 - u . ' , .1 , ' . - f If -- 21:11, F.. -ia an ' 1j'Q---li' ' A' '. 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