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

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The Lost Figure L f f rs 1 v e H ff! , f I ' At, .. . ,ji-Barbara Novak Only those beings who have craved something chronically, who have resisted temptation and ultimately submitted to it, will understand my feeling of irre- pressible joy upon finding myself alone in the house for an entire week end- forty-eight hours in which to avail myself of every opportunity to indulge every vagary, to satisfy my heretofore suppressed longing for food. Those bleak, barren days of dieting seemed long ago and far away, in a land as far removed from my kitchen as the sun from the earth. Of course there had been moments, brief and stolen, in which I had appeased those persistent pangs of hunger, but no longer needed I to skulk in corners munching candy furtively, ravenously, waiting for Mother's inevitable remark, 'Remember your figure, darling. That candy contains 250 calories. I had tried to break myself of the habit of eating between meals, but always there had been that little impish voice in the back of my mind, coaxing, per- suading, Just one little chocolate can't possibly hurt. And always I had vielded. Then there were those horrible nightmares, dreams in which I fancied fat women looming out of the walls, coming toward me, bearing countless delicacies, cauldrons of chocolate pudding, and Jello in all its six delicious flavors. Those women had one thing in common-my face. On the first night of my solitude, I felt myself drawing closer and closer to the refrigerator-closer to inevitable destruction, for I knew that once I had utterly satisfied my craving, I would never again be the same. My will- power collapsed. I gorged myself far into the night. The next day was spent in a similar manner. That evening, however, I had a date. I tried on the dress I had intended to wear. It wouldn't close. Frantically I tried others. The floor was strewn with dresses, suits, skirts. Not one fit me. .The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of my escort. I just let it ring- Dolphin Contribution T his is a task of torture and pain, H urting my fingers and racking my brain, E nding in something that won't be too good. D on't laugh now, but my head's made of wood. O h! For those old and simple times, Little thought I of writing rhymes. Perhaps some day I may do better, H eaven knows when I'll get my letter. If you are bored with reading this, N ever you mind, I'll call it fin-is. -Arthur Hofmann

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The Escape -Doris Farkas EDITORQS NOTE: The author's last contribution to the DOLPHIN was a new version of a mythological story. Now, her source is very different. The following is her account of incidents which occurred to her father. In the year 1917, Paul Janosek joined the Hungarian army. A few months later, he was working in the lumber yards of Petrograd, a prisoner of the Russians. He and some other prisoners, taking advantage of an opportunity resulting from disorders during the Revolution, escaped and purchased clothes and train tickets to the Hungarian border. uWe'H get off at a station during the night. If everything works out all right, we can cross the border without being seen. Be as inconspicuous as possible, and since I know the language, let me do the talking, Paul ordered. They decided to cross the tracks at night instead of leaving the station in the usual manner. They were almost across when suddenly they heard a shout, Halt! The men whirled around and saw two Russian soldiers staring at them. Someone's suspicions had been aroused, and the soldiers on guard at the station had been informed. The prisoners were locked up, and the next morning they were sent back to camp. . Paul determined to escape again, and decided, 'This time I'll go alone. He planned to take the same train to the same station, hoping to have better luck than before. As he was waiting for the train, he was approached by an old man who had befriended him while he was working in Petrograd. Paul confided to him the details of his escape from the camp. The old gentleman looked about nervously and then beckoned to Paul to follow him. I'll help you get away, he whispered. I can get you a passport. Paul looked astonished. How can you do that? My son, who was sent here from Poland, has been given a passport to return there. But he has decided to remain in Russia, and I will give you his passport. In a few hours Paul was on the train, speeding toward the border. This time he got oil' in the daytime and mingled with the crowd. His nervousness increased when he learned that he had to present the passport to the guard at the station. I hope I don't look as sick as I feel, he thought as he handed the- paper to the stern-looking soldier, and breathed a sigh of relief as it was handed back to him without a word. He felt more and more tense as freedom came closer and closer to being a reality. As Paul stood on the street deciding what his next move would be, he noticed a coachman staring at him, and soon discovered why. The man had recognized Paul as an escaped war prisoner, and offered to make a deal with him. In return for a large sum of money, he would escort Paul over the border, which was only a short distance away. You don't leave me much choice, muttered Paul. Let's go. After traveling through many muddy side streets, the carriage suddenly stopped. It was stuck in the mud and refused to budge. Paul stepped down and started to walk. He had gone only a short distance when to his dismay he saw in front of him a group of soldiers with their guns pointed at him. Paul saw no way out of his predicament. He slowly approached the soldiers and found to his amazement that they were Hungarians, and that he was over the border.

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Van. . 1 5 Why Big Brothers Leave Home S 1:1 ' '1, 'ij 53 fi '1 1 dl. il T783 Q ' -David Rosen Far be it from me to question the doings of the Lord, but up to this sixteenth year of my life I have been unable to discover any practical reason for the existence of sisters. Ever since I was four years old, my life has been one of continual suffering. I've often wondered whether the coming of a new babe is called a blessed event because the parents are so happy to receive it, or because the stork. is so glad to get rid of the squalling thing. I was beginning to adjust myself to the demands brought upon me by my first sister when, lo and behold, I was told that soon we were to have another visitor. I was about nine at this time, and being much wiser in the ways of the world, I conceived a plan. My mind was working like that of an evil fiend. N ? f I uncrossed my eyes and looked at myself in the mirror. Ugh! I stared at myself ' sternly and resolved that if it was another girl, I'd leave home. On the night of the invader's expected arrival, loading my BB gun to capacity, I went up to x f-, the roof' to await the stork. If he brought a girl, it was to be his last trip. The I 6 next thing I knew, my vigil was interrupted by my folks calling me downstairs ,Cx f to see my new sister.. This was too much. I broke down, and tears flowed like Q the water they were. Visiting friends and relatives interpreted this as a sign E of joy, and gave me little sympathy. Not wanting my parents to bear alone ff -33 the suffering that two daughters would bring, I decided not to leave home. -X C' 2 Many moons have passed, but still the presence of my sisters affects every iQ f minute of my day. I'm gently awakened in the morning when one of the gruesome Q Q twosome throws the dog in my face. I get up to find my best shirt drooping wearily from the shoulders of number one sister, and my heavy ice-skating socks stuffed into her tiny loafers. I walk into the kitchen and force a smile as I explain to sister number two that she can't blow bubbles with my pipe. I find the remains of half a dozen of my best records where dear sisters have been debating over which record to put on next. I finally make a break for the door, where'I'm rapidly brought to the bottom of the stairs with the assistance of a well-placed roller skate. I'm about to regain a standing position when the - two barbarians come tearing out of the door, deliberately trampling over me. , I N Thus begins my day. 5 I do not wish you, dear Reader, to squirm in my agony, so I shall end my A j, lament at this point. But to you, companions in suffering, I oder this ray of - 5+ Zwhope. There will come a time when sisters are a thing of the past. Meanwhile, we must treat our sisters as normal people, and pray that soon each will find Y , Q X a husband before we're taken away in straightjackets. ' Il ' p , Wild, IU' ' ' I an R f :-,111 v.'C1.'Q XY.'ff4! 6 1 .IIT i '-'p rx Z Q .43 tr! I 14155 - V Wil wt if-+---' 'T i f I M xi .. - ,. J K P f