Elmira Catholic High School - Victorian Yearbook (Elmira, NY)

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My Kinqcfam 404 14 flag One of his classmates had had a dog when he was promoted from the fifth grade. Buddy had wanted one ever since. His mother had said no quite firmly the last time. Buddy didn't blame her. There were enough mouths to feed without some cur hanging around with his Stomach in his eyes all the time. If you wanted to buy one, they cost so much any way, and they had to be looked after. That took time which he didn't have. With school work and helping at the mill with Dad, he hardly had time to sleep. Maybe Mom was right after all, But, gee, a fella oughta have someone to play with besides five sisters and a twoamonth old brother. None of his friends lived near him. Working at the paper mill was dangerous. One false step with those cruel machines and you would be minus an arm or leg or maybe even your head. His job didn't worry him. All he had to do was oil odd partg for machines and keep the racks filled up. Once in a While he got kinda nervous about Dad. Lately, with money so scarce he'd been getting odd jobs around town besides his regular one. As a result, he'd been losing some much-needed sleep. Buddy didn't see how he stood it. But he did, bringing in only a few miserable dollars compared to the injury to his health. On a machine like that one Dad worked, you had to be extra careful and alert. He hated to think what would happen if Dad fell asleep on his job. But a more immediate worry was what on earth could he write for that literary contest! Some club or other, in the same district as his school, put up a prize of S25-an enormous prize it seemed to Buddy for just writing something. The principal said everyone would enter something. He hadn't the slightest idea what he could write. Say, the teacher had said just put down your thoughts, what he wanted most in the world was a dog. He 'd begin tonight and get it all done. Buddy hadnlt told the family about what he was going to send in. He hadn't wanted anyone to know about what he would write. Like as not they would give all sorts of suggestions which would only confuse him. That night he gathered pencil and paper and the cherished picture of The Dog , which he kept under his pillow and retired to a quiet room. It took him about three hours. Many beginnings, crossings-out, new attempts. Then there were long moments when he just sat, chin in hand, looking at The Dog . Finally he picked up the pencil and began: t'My dear Dog, You are only a picture now . . . . He wrote steadily for twenty minutes. Then, he laid down the pencil with a sigh. He could hardly keep awake. He hesitated: was it too long? He shrugged, it would have to do. Signing his name, he folded the paper quickly and put it in his English book. Golly, but it was late! He got into bed with The Dog and soon was sound asleep. Dad had an awful cold the next day and couldn't go to work. He got a couple days off so he could stay home and doctor up. But his cold lingered for a couple of weeks, and he was no better. In fact, he seemed worse. Bufddy hated to see his mother's face so thin and haggard. The kids were thin and haggard, too. There was more than one night they had gone to bed hungry. If only Dad could get back to work. The boss had just given him a raise. He wouldnlt be paid for the time he was sick. They had to get money for food and medicine, somehow. Only wishful thinking, his mother told him with a sad smile. Dully, Buddy wondered what all the excitement was about at school. Slowly it came to him. The winner of the contest would be awarded the prize today. There had been an element of surprise introduced about this prize. No one knew just what it was. He didn't care about any contest. All he could think of was poor Dad-he looked so shrunken or something. Mom said they couldnlt get any more medicine. No money. If I had somc, she said, I could get him well in no time. Page Fifty-two

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Oh, oh! Here comes the principal with some other men. Must be someone in his class got it. Gee, that was nice. The teacher would be pleased. Sud- denly, he heard his name called and everybody cast envious glances at him. Dazed he got up and went to the front of the room. T'he principal beamed and the men pattd him on the head saying what a lucky boy he was. The principal went to the door and called. Then another man came in struggling with a silky brown bundle which he handed to Buddy. Buddy caught his breath, a dog! A real live dog! His eyes shone. Shyly, half-afraid, he reached out his hand. A pink tongue darted out and wrapped around his finger. Instantly Buddyls heart was lost in the upturned, brown eyes. He turned to the big smiling man, his face radiant. lVas he his, he asked eagerly, was he the prize. The big man said that since his wish for a dog sounded so sincere in his composition, they decided to give him a choice. A choice? Buddy was puzzled. The man nodded, he would choose between the dog and the money-the original prize. Oh'7, Buddy said in a small voice. The light went out of his eyes and his face lost its radiance. Ile looked at the little brown dog a long, long time. Carefully he handed him back to the man. HI'd rather have the money, please, if you donlt mind, he whispered. Buddy would always remember that look on his mother's face when he handed her the money. Therese Milliken '43 fed! We guage! When I was a freshman, I was literally trampled upon by my superiors. NVhen I bent over to get a drink of Water, a dozen or more Qplus Danny Cardoneb of the super- ior senior class placed me in my proper position at the end of the line. Naturally because of the superiority they took their fill of the water first. At present, I doubt if I could possible chop my way through the line of freshmen-even with a hatchet !-to get a few drops of water. They show no reverence for those noblest of God's creatures, the Seniors. How times have changed since my day! The freshmen of today do not know their place. They try to put them- selves on a level with the upperclassmen. It is really very annoying and shocking. VVhy, the other day at a local ice cream emporium fchez Rylll one of these incorrigibles dared to voice his opinion and actually disagreed with one of our very honored members, Francis Doran. It is hardly credible but true nevertheless. As freshmen, we received our education from the class of '39. That class used the soaking method. The education was poured in via the horse trough. The cold which we acquired froze this education into us and we still have it. Unfortunately the horse trough has been removed and what havoc has resulted! The freshmen have gone through the school year untamed, un- disciplined, Haunting their impudence-instead of being sweet, submissive creatures that one expects of first year students. It is a melancholy thought. I pause in dejection. R, Lewis Lisi '43 Page Fifty-three