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Page 41 text:
W 'if'-"3 ,.- il--5.-552207'f?.e'27.15f..-51'5fq.-i- 7272 Tl' I T ' H" "'I Qi- -.1-f7".'T, '31
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Morning, In Hawaii
K Carolyn Atkins, '45
The golden sunlight trips along the
Of ranging mountains glistening in morn-
' ing dew.
Below, the gaily colored parakeets -
Chatter in palms that lean o'er waters
The gentle surf rolls up to lap the beach,
And breezes soft caress and cool the sand.
The rising sun with 'hues of gold and
Tints up the fleecy clouds that grace the
The valley swathed in its cloak of smoke
Awakes to greet the coming of the day.
The freshness of the night abides and
In every nook and glen of forest shade.
Without this marvel done each day for us
WlJat source -would be our hopes, our
' life, our trust? '
Hazel Muller, Post Graduate
Beauty blooms about us all,
Lodged in willows' graceful, tall,
Blushing in roses crowned by dew,
Smiling in a sky so bright and blue.
Beauty breathes about us all,
Norma Mae Miller, '45
While walking through the woods one
I stumbled on a nook V
lVhere different colored flowers
And a sparkling brook
Glided over mossy stones
Bubhling on its way
And pretty little fishes darted
Merrily in their play.
The air so sweet, the grass so nice,
The home of dove and raven,
T'was a minature paradise
This calm and tiny haven.
Why Can"t I Be Like Others?
Regina Taylor, '45
I wish that I could be
just like the other girls
Who always look'so pretty
With their hair all done in curls.
They wear such pretty dresses,
And look so neat 'and clean.
Their eyes have a certain sparkle,
And they always look so keen.
My Brother Pete h
N M. L. Vosbein, '46
I know a not-so-little boy V
Who is as cute as he can be, ,H
He's not so smart, but all the sahie
Means all the world to me.
He's just about five feet, I guess,
His eyes are big and brown.
There is a lot of mischief there,
And seldom does he frown.
He's not a genius, but he's smart,
In that he's just like mother,
. I :Qin
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Gowned in leaves of russet fall Tbflf 55005 "ff 0110415 P015-'beds Be in all the world" 'herds iw' one
Laughing in streams so crystalline clear, Th'-'if -'Wkf lffmfd down iflff fighl 'I Petef
Dancing on sunbeams throughout the A-V f0f me, 1 INN d0'1'f WW -'Wm Hes my tblftem year old brother'
Jregf. To be anything but a sight. g
Beagzty abides gwith us all, A Sailoy-
Em racing bot the great and small, ' h
I-Iovering ever in our sight The Life A Rose , . Alma Mitchell, '45
From golden morn to blackest night. Hazel Muller, post Graduate Bell-bottom trousers ,
Frail infant bud, Goff of 'WWJ' blue. '
So dainty, fresh and sweet to see, While WP ffl 50 ldfmflt'
A melancholy life does live, That's a sailor true.
Full soon is plucked from the tree.
. The girls all flock to see them
Full young bloom, Marching lmudly by . '
Who blows 'fore tempest, wind and rain, They yearn to see their boy friend
Or feebly droops' from scorcing sun, And ff? to fffffb bf-f eye-
Does lift her head up high again. . g
But marching down the avenue
Aged Nga, msg' With eyes so straight ahead
A-smiling through her pain and tears, Had lore to wie? md -'mile at he'
A ,oyal Mau to you 1 give A But marches on mstead.
Who has survived those cruel years.
Coat of navy blue - T
lVhile you're fighting on the seas'
She'll be ever true.' .
E-C-H-O-E-S ' V Thirty-nine 4 -
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Page 40 text:
-fill piece, his Fifth Symphony. Yet, they
51- make me happy, and I am certain
,Us-. V .fl ,Q , .mf -- . 4- - fvf"- - . Y W 5. .j . " -- '- - -ff - .::1'--v '.',+'+- '-' -- ,B -E.. . - N'
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Cn Being An Album Of Records
' By Dorothy Samuelson, '45 ,
i AM an album of records. People
generally refer to me as Peter Ilich
2+ Tschaikowsky s greatest in a s t e r-
.lalso regard me as an uninteresting,
insensible' object. To discourage such
9 M thinking is my purpose in writing this
jf . article.
gig' My existence is neither uninterest-
4 ing nor am I without feelings. When
the lady of the house, where I have
been residing for the V past fifteen
months, disregards my chamber,
over to the one containing a rather
thick album of Strauss' Waltzes, and
. chooses it in my stead, I can readily
1 ' - f ' -Q Iva" 'fi
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kts 23, , 1. , 'bmi ag.-Lvgf-. ,- r -v '- A -
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assure you that my feelings are hurt.
Moreover, when Junior decides that
K he would greatly prefer "Sleazy
Sammy and his Slinky Slackers" to
that "ole long hair" music and aim-
,, . lessly tosses me aside, there is no
Q need to explain that more than my
I feelings is hurt, it takes very little
51, to remain clear and bright as long
I , as I am not subjected to such crimes
,e as neglect, abuse and misuse. '
' ' As for my duration being dull and
V - uninteresting, I should scarcely agree.
, Perhaps I have in the past suffered
g, an acute case of melancholia, but
last week I was joined by two 'other
albums. After a careful comparison
of facts I learned, to my great sur-
prise, that they are close relatives of
mine. One is called the "Romeo and
Juliet Overture", while the other is
the "Fourth Symphony," and both,
as I, are offsprings of Papa Peter.
The day the "Fourth Symphony"
arrived, everyone in our household
knew i-t. His voice squealed through-
out the rooms, and the other records
remained in the chambers until his
little discs were worn thin. He join-
ed us a little later with "Those folks
don't know when to let up: thev're
wearing me out!" From the time
of this pun, we all grew to love The
Fourthg he is indeed a jolly album.
Yet, in spite of his fine character and
cheerful disposition, he is, beyond
all doubt, the loudest and noisiest of
us all. Papa Peter-created this sym-
phony as a tribute to Madame von
Meek, but I am certain, at the time,
he had no idea that he was creating
such a brat. .
The 'Overture is a beautiful crea-
tion. She Has the charm and grace
of Venus, the lightness and swiftness
of Mercury, and the vicious temper
and fury of Thor. She is a delicate.
flower, a precious jewel, and is my
favorite. Yesterday one of my rec-
The sun had set, the day was gone,
And shadows began to glide
Around the corner, up the walk,
In search of a place to hide.
Night spread her blanket of darkness and
Not a star could be seen in the skyg
The darkness grew thicker, the fog more
The wind' blew a tempest on high.
The storm hovered near, gathering its
ords became lost in her album. That
was indeed a delightful experience,
for we were alone together. As
Junior was the only one in the house,
we remained uninterrupted, since he
was deeply engrossed in "Jumpin'
Jones and his Jivin' Jerquesf' She
promised to remember me always,
to be true to me forever, and to try
to be misplaced in my album as often
as she could possibly manage. This
may sound rather odd to you, since
I've previously explained that we are
close relativesg but you must realize
that it's all very different with rec-
ords. ! s
Yes, records are greatly different
from the uninteresting, insensible ob-
jects to which you refer. I have been
indeed happy in this house - my
home, and now that I have met the
Overture I am certain of future hap-
piness. My greatest pleasure is the
contented smile on the lips of an en-
thusiastic listener, and the sheer de-
light of being enjoyed. I am happy
here, and I wish to be forever loved
and cherished, wanted and heard,
played and not forgotten. I shall
forever bring forth' melodious strains
to you, serve you, and maker you hap-
py. All these things I am willing to
do-I, that uninteresting, insensible
album of records.
35. - strength, , . i
While myriad, of raindrops fell fastg
'A But then as if God had but frowned on.
ffj the scene,
,.. ,.,. ., ,
57,1-j,:l'gu The storm soon abated and passed. ,
. 1-fail' ' , ' ,
, Thirty-eight V E.C.H.Q,E:S.
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Page 42 text:
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SENIOR PLAY-JUNE MAD
The play "June Mad" by Florence Ryerson and Colin Clements was presented on Friday, June 12, 1945. From
all reports this play went over "big" and was enjoyed by young and old. The young who saw themselves mirrored on
the stage and "the old who saw the problems that would confront them -when their own darling caught the June bug
and went f'June Mad."
Medal For Valor
fContinued from Page 291
Then they were there. AAs the
four-legged soldier dug his paws
deep into the sandy beach, he
seemed to hear the voice saying,
"You've just begun. Luck, old boy!"
As quickly as they had come, the
raging noises went, and everything
on the island was silent. A state of
excitement lingered over the little
scouting party as they huddled
around a signal map in an effort to
locate their exact position.
"Here we are," one soldier
pointed out on the map. "We are
only. a short distance from Tree M,
where we are to receive a reply to
"Good work," said Sergeant
Svendsen. "Now, men, keep your
eyes peeled for a white pigeon.
There she- comes, right on sched-
ule. Here's hoping we get to Tree
M before she does."
, Y ..',- , ' 1
,vig ,T .. - r X.
With as much tenseness as his
master, Eric watched the graceful
white bird soar through space closer
and closer to its destination.
"Men, that bird means life or
death to us," Svendsen said serious-
ly. "We must get that message."
Suddenly a shot pierced the still-
ness. The bird plummeted toward
the ground and into the icy waters
off shore. A muffled groan rose
from the little group of men.
No sooner had the bird fallen than
Eric Red's body began to quiver with
the eagerness of a true retriever.
With only .instinct.to guide him, he
launched himself into the bitter surf
so quickly that he did not hear his
master's frantic cry, "Come back,
Red, you'll be killed."
Slowly he pressed on toward the
bird as bullets pinged around him.
Closer and closer he came. Ah, now
he had her securely in his mouth,
ready to return to the shore. A
sharp pain pierced his side as he
swam, but he refused to give up his
struggle. Shakily he crawled into
some thickets on shore. The pain in-
tensified, but Eric Red forced his
way through the underbrush until
he caught sight of the men for whom
he was searching. With a whimper
of pain a badly-wounded hero col-
lapsed under the strain of his deed
as he laid- his prize at the feet of
his master and felt strong arms em-
bracing him, while a well-known
voice said, "Good work, fella, good
Weeks later Eric Red lay curled
up at the feet of his buddy-in-arms,
peacefully gnawing the remains of a
ham bone. He could hear his master
proudly relating his heroic dog's ac-
tion as he displayed the beautiful
bronze medal awarded Eric for valor
and loyalty to duty. Lieutenant
.Tame Svendson was very happy that
day, and Eric Red's heart surged with
triumphant joy, for he knew that he
had pleased his master.
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