Far Rockaway High School - Dolphin Yearbook (Far Rockaway, NY)

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When I was just a local guy, The girl that I adored In my presence yawned away, And seemed completely bored. Knee-deep in sundry other heaux, She gave me not a glance, But flashed her smile the other way 5 I didn't have a chance. The busy line I always got, W'hen I pleaded for a date. Every time I asked her out, It seemed I was .too late. And thus I worshipped from afar, Worship ped all in vain. Others may know joy in love, I only knew the pain. Then came the draft, away I went, To march and drill and train, Then, trim in army olive drah, I went hack home again. I chanced to meet my lady love, This time she was not cool, My unifonm intrigued the gal, But I, I was no fool. I saw her eye my three proud stripes, The insignia I sported, And suddenly I scorned ,the miss I once had vainly courted. Love me not just in khaki, For when we've won this war, And I'm only a civilian, You will drop me as hefore. Beware, oh fickle lady Who goes for things G. I. For the girl who's khaki-wacky Will he left alone to cry. A SOLDIER SPEAKS BY ADELAIDE SCHIFF

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THE TRAMP BY BENSON SOFFER John got up slowly, a look of astonishment stamped on his face. Good heavens, Yaroslavf' he said, in his big, hearty voice, why won't you paint the picture of my children? ' For once the mask faded from Yaroslav's handsome face. He paled visibly and tightened his hand into a hard fist. Turning toward the window he spoke to the open skies he loved so much. K! You have been very kind to me, John. You could not possibly understand. You like the children, don't you? John asked. ll I love them very much. Then why don't you paint them-?', ll No, I can not, Yaroslav interrupted. John sank slowly into his seat as Yaroslav turned to him. That cold night you found me lying by the road and brought me, whom you thought a tramp, to your home, and gave me shelter and food, you felt sorry for me. You did not ask and I did not tell you, about my past. Now I must tell you. I was born in a Bohemian village, the son of a college professor. It was a beautiful country, and I was happy until my father moved to Prague. There I attended the University and later entered the Austrian army as an ofhcer. In 1917, after our troops were de- feated and our lines broken, I, with many others, heard the news of the revolution. Knowing what would happen to us, we fled. You remember the story of the Czech detachment that made its way from one end of Siberia to the other? I was with them. I fled to America with my paints, and lived on the beaches, eating just the ish I caught, and painting everything I could. I was happy then because I wasn't running awayf' John looked more puzzled than before. What has this to do with my children? Everything Yaroslav answered. How could I paint the pictures of your chil- dren? I have seen the empty stare in the eyes of thousands of starving children. If I were to paint your children, could I paint what I see? No, I would be putting down those horrible things I have run away from. God made me love his creatures. I lived in their lives, rejoiced in their joy, sorrowed in their tragedies. I loved so much that I painted. Where people are murdered and starved I can not live. I have seen too many fine families shattered. I have seen too many unhappy children. When I watch your children, I remember how the others were before. I can not stay here. Perhaps CConf. 011 Page 66D 61

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