Emmerich Manual High School - Ivian Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

Page 18 text:

Waiting For an Inspiration i6f Q H pY TASK was to write a theme. I had been sitting at my desk for almost an hour but as yet no inspiration had come. Walter ! n someone cried from an adjoining room. I knew who that someone n was and meekly answered, Yes ' m. Don ' t you think you had better get a bucket of water ? The tone of voice plainly implied the answer. I thought I had better and, bucket on arm, I adjourned to the backyard. I was deeply impressed by the beauty of winter. A deep, white cover of snow lay on the ground and sparkled in the brilliant moonlight. Each branch of the spectre-like trees was outlined with a glittering deposit of frost crystals and each twig was a jewel-bedecked sceptre in the hands of its maternal bough. Not a breath of air was stirring and not a sound disturbed the peaceful tranquility of the winter evening. I placed my bucket on the ground and stood awe-struck by the natural beauty of the scene. I turned my eyes toward the great, silver moon, and the myriads of, twinkling stars that surrounded her. I tried hard to pierce the gigantic orb which shone down on the cold world below with such a kindly light. Slowly, a figure became discernible in its beaming face. It was the profile of a beautiful woman ' s head, the figure of the lady of the moon. An expression, entrancing and very devout, rested upon her radiant features as she gazed, wistfully, up into the depths of the deep, blue firmament. Ah ! n I cried, there my inspiration must come. My surroundings could only be conducive to such a conclusion. The awe-inspiring stillness, the supreme reign of peace and quiet could terminate in no other manner. My spirits began to rise and visions of an A+ theme danced before my eyes with the thought of the coming inspiration. My every sense became painfully alert and my gauzy, filmy air-castle of hope almost reached the eminent heights of my muse-like lady of the moon ; for the inspiration was coming ; I could feel it in my veins ; in another moment it would be mine. What was that! A horrible, squeaking, grating noise sounded from an adjoining yard. Some person was performing a duty similar to mine but in a much more faithful manner. Another long, doleful creak. My inspiration was rapidly going. Then a second pump, a rusty one, uplifted its mournful voice and pushed the inspiration Still further away. A door slammed, violently and, in a moment, a face peered into mine, — not the radiant features of the lady of the moon, — but the stern, reproachful countenance of my mother. She did not utter a word but grasped the bucket and quickly pumped it full of water. Then, placing the bucket on her arm, she tucked up her skirts and hurried to the house, leaving me, bewildered and speechless, with the grim realization that the inspiration was lost. WALTER GUEDEL mm 8fi Questions of the Day When was August Bohlen ? What did Lillian Peele ? Is Jessie Good ? Is Carl Browne ? Who said he saw Ruth Steele ? Can Edward Cooke ? or can he not ? Did Carl Adam right? Who doesn ' t know that little Raymond Knox with all his might ? What started Harry Coffin ? Why isn ' t Vina Weiser ? Can Lawrence Hitt a thing ? Is Leroy White from fear ? Is Bertha Gaunt ? What gave Frank Ayres ? Who says Ruth Storms ? Who sent Earle West ? Since when is Berg A. King ? Now, isn ' t Irwin Deere ? Whose hair was Philip Kirlin ? Did Charles Cross the road ? And who has got the money Which Victor Winterrowd ? Many in this rhyme should kick ; The author to the same Will give this piece of good advice : Go get another name. MARGARET WILLIAMS

Page 17 text:

An Awful Experience POOR LUCK always had dogged my footsteps and so I suppose it was nothing unusual for me to receive another visit from my unwelcome visitor — an own cousin, by the way, at that — and to make it worse he was compelled to stay over night. Now, when it is known that he was a restless sleeper and an awful kicker, I think all will agree that I had sufficient cause for displeasure. Twice before, had I slept with him and twice before, had I awakened, sore in body and sore in mind. Twice before, did my cousin assure me that he had had a pleasant night ' s sleep, while it was all that I could do to keep from pummeling the life out of him. However, 1 submitted to my fate, I couldn ' t help it, and went to sleep at ten-thirty. It seemed but a short time since falling asleep, when I awoke. I seemed to be in very uncom- fortable quarters and I experienced a strange, Stifling sensation. I tried to sit up, but could not move a muscle. It was very dark save for a single streak of light. Where was I confined and why ? These thoughts flitted through my mind but I could not answer them. I heard a noise — evidently, there were others in the room. Listening intently, I faintly heard these whispered words, Poor boy, too bad he had to die. Like a flash, the situation burst upon me. I was supposed to be dead and my uncomfortable quarters were a coffin. I experienced a prickly sensation in the region of my head — my hair was standing on end. I tried my best to cry out, but no sound passed my lips. Would I be able to wrench the coffin lid off, like the girl in Edgar Allen Poe ' s story ? Oh, but the terror I should experience in the meanwhile ! Why did I deserve such a fate ? I was trying to devise some means of escape, when I heard more whispered talking. They were going to take the coffin to the hearse. My brain was in a whirl. I did not know what to do. They approached the coffin and grasped the handles at the sides. The clanking noise caused by this action broke the spell which bound me and with a superhuman effort I wrenched the lid off and hurled it to the floor with a clash. A scream rent the air, and I awoke to find my cousin sprawling on the floor. In his restless sleep, he had lain crosswise on my chest, causing that strange, Stifling sensation. In my endeavor to relieve myself of the weight, I had lifted him bodily and had hurled him to the floor. He has never slept with me since. SAM GOLDSTEIN Little Johnny Sim-Sim stood in the gym-gym Wearing no gym-gym shoes. When Mr. Hall spied him, he slipped up beside him And frightened him into boo-hoos.

Page 19 text:

A Feline Comedy SOMETIMES I am drawn into controversies much against my will, and such was my unfor- tunate experience the other day, when I was called upon to act as witness or referee, I don ' t know which, to a bout between our neighbor ' s cat and our own. I don ' t believe, however, it could be exactly called a bout, for they were overstepping any rules that I ever heard of, and especially the gentlemanly limits of Queensbury rules. But whatever it was, they were certainly doing full justice to the opportunities that our backyard offered for such a meeting, and I, being of a retiring disposition, did not wish to disturb their spirited argument by crossing the field of battle. So I stood quite still — an unwilling spectator, as I imagined, to the mill. However, the spectacle soon grew so lively that I forgot my scruples, and became an intensely animated official, hopping about and calling fouls, and cheering whenever the interest reached a climax. Now, it appeared that the cause of all this trouble was due to the fact that our cat did not like his neighbor, and consequently, catching him in our yard, tried to eject him for trespassing. But he seemed to have utterly miscalculated the prowess of his opponent, and the failure to carry out his project was resulting in the disturbance that threatened our peace and property. All of this I quickly recognized, but no sooner, I judge, than did our cat himself. He was fairly running over with rage and indignation. His whole body, and especially his back, was as prickly as that of a porcupine. One would almost judge that he had curvature of the spine, so high was the ridge of bristling hairs, that shook and quivered with anger. For awhile he stepped around upon his very tiptoes, emitting now and then a sonorous, scale-ascending howl that terrified me beyond measure. But not so the other cat. He was evidently prepared for such noises, and pranced about with an equally haughty attitude of bravado, giving forth a combination of meows that easily put to shame the best efforts of ours. But I longed to stir them to still greater activity and thus get the full worth of my money, when all at once, they, themselves, saved me that trouble. The result could not have been more satisfac- tory had they been placed in a vessel and stirred with a spoon. In fact, so thorough was the mixing, that our yard might have been a vessel, with some unknown force stirring up meows, discord, and belligerents. Such evolutions I have never seen before or since. Both cats were performing stunts in gymnastics that would have done credit to the world ' s best pugs. They were striking viciously, side-stepping, and finally, by way of change, uppercutting with a deftness that brought forth anguished howls of pain. In fact, so fierce grew the rounds, that one of our cat ' s nine lives began to be in jeopardy, or so it seemed to my anxious eyes, and consequently I began to root enthusiastically for our representative, hoping that it might encourage him in his dark hour of despair, and so land him the victory. But alas for him who knoweth not the nature of animals, before he entereth into the ways thereof. The effect of my assistance was entirely undreamed of. For all at once he seemed to become so depressed or frightened, that he threw up the sponge and started for our back-door at an igno- minious and record-breaking pace. The remaining combatant lost no time in starting out in hot pursuit, as I supposed, to punish the other for his yellow streak. But no ! He followed the foot- steps of the other at an equally hot pace, but instead of going in at the door, where the other had disappeared, he shot past the entire porch and jumped over the adjoining fence into the safety of his own yard. Now, all of this was very abrupt and a damper to my enthusiasm and an awful disgrace upon the time-honored bravery of our family connections. But, exasperating as it was, it taught me one thing, and that was, I should never allow my interest to wax so warm as to interfere with the rights and intentions of others and especially the rights of feline belligerents. EARLE H. WEST