Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

Page 20 text:

Berkeley Berkeley — At night — Darkness — A thick ivhite blanket of fog covers the city and muffles the fog horns IV hi n in g call. Quick staccato footsteps echo holloivly along the sideivalk and fade away. Breathless silence — The deep tolling of midnight by the Campanile chimes. Silence — Night in Berkeley. Berkeley — By day — Sunlight — The fog lifts slowly as if it tvere loathe to give up its resting place. Thin streams of smoke rise from chimneys like burnt offerings to the sun god. The clang of a bell — The honking of several automobile horns — And thjis the day is begun. Croivds — Hurrying to work, shop, and school. Cars, in a steady stream, shuttle back and forth. Rush — Ruslo— Day in Berkeley. Glen Jewett, High Nine. AM I AN AMERICAN? I am an American. I was born in Berkeley, California. My father and mother were born in Japan. Sometimes when I go to Japanese School, my teacher tells us a story about Japan and what the country is like. He makes the story so interest- ing that we all go home and ask our mothers and fathers to tell us a story about Japan. My mother told me that when she was in Japan, she used to go to school in the winter with her brother in snow about one foot deep. But in the spring it is very beautiful, with the cherry blossoms in full bloom. In Japan they have different classes of people, the lower class, middle class, high class, and the noble class. My mother ' s and father ' s class was a little higher than the middle class. Although my mother did not go to college, my father -did and won some honors for rowing, running, and other athletic games. In my mother ' s and my father ' s house there are a servant girl and a little boy about ten or eleven years old to bring messages and go on errands because their home is in the country. Mary Hayashida, Low Eight.

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TJje Golden Season Slimmer has gone and Autumn ' s begun And the leaves are dancing and having great fun. With their beautiful colors of orange and broivn They brighten the air as they frolic down. Where are the flowers that recently stood On the hill, by the brook in the wood? And where are the birds that filled the trees And the butterflies and the bumble bees} Golden Autumn has taken these things To guard them and keep them under her wings ' Till spring comes round to call them again To brighten this world of sorrow and pain. Sheila Chandler, High Eight. ' Pines Lullaby The ivhispering lullaby of the pine, On the banks of a sdv ' ry lake. With moonbeams glinting in crystal line, A soothing sleep-song make. As the clear, sweet notes of the bugle die From the crest of a tow ' ring hill, The echo resounds with an eerie cry From lake and pine and rill. From out the silence the ripples sing As clear and sweet as ivine. Their lovely song so soft and loiu. The lullaby of the Fine. Betty Lou Howard, Loiv Nine. Autumn s Lullaby Flarkl ' Tis the mystic call of the wind I hear. The weird howl; the deep-draivn sigh. The gold and crimson leaves appear Against the ever-changing sky. All growing things are noiv at rest. The grapes hang low; the geese fly high. Each seed is deep in its earthy nest. The autumn wind is its lullaby. Constance Robinson, High Seven.

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The Stream A stream has many moods, yon tinonj! Times of c oeer, times of woe. To travel wloere the ivaters fioiv, Is my ambition. I must go! At times a stream is happy, bright. Goes o ' er the falls, dancing light. Sometimes through thiclzets, dark as night. It floivs sadly, out of sight. I thinti. the stream ' s a funny tiding. Sometimes it cries, sometimes sings, It maJies your soul ivitJo fervor ring, It plays on your heart. It pulls the strings. Betty Lou Howard, Lokj Nine. A LADY AT HER FIRST FOOTBALL GAME Oh John! What a crowd of people there is here today. It must be an important game! Oh, no dear, this is only some little team they are playing today. Well, now that we ' re in John, let ' s find a good place to sit. Oh, I wish we had gotten loges. Don ' t be silly, dear, you can ' t get loges at a football game. Well, let ' s find a good seat anyway. Oh, here comes the team, John. Hooray for our side! Don ' t yell, dear, that ' s the opposing team. Oh, John, they are beginning to play. Come on Joe! Handle the pigskin. Oh, John, where is the pig? Oh! that man threw the other man down. Of course, of course, silly, he was tackling him to get him down, Well it certainly would get me down if anyone threw me that hard. Anyway, John, he could have gotten farther if he hadn ' t been tackled. Oh, Mabel, won ' t you shu — he quit for just a little while. Dear me, John, you needn ' t act that way about it. No, no, of course not. John, what is the object of this game anyway? Oh, you see, one team tries to get the ball over the other team ' s goal line, and in that way make six points. Then if the man with the ball gets away they all try to tackle him. Oh, I see, John. Well, why don ' t they tackle him? He has the ball. Oh, oh, oh, he ' s the referee, silly. Well, how am I supposed to know that? Oh never mind, Mabel, you ' re hopeless. Let ' s go home. Bill Brock, High Nine.