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

Page 26 text:

MATILDA WINS It was a pleasant Sunday at the home of the Whites. It was rather warm, but not uncomfortable. Their home was on the corner of Maple Street and Chestnut Street with their large veranda on the north side. In the afternoon, especially when it was warm, the family sat out on this porch as it was shady. This particular afternoon Matilda, the mother, was there peeling her potatoes for dinner. Jane and Dorothy, her daughters, were manicuring their linger nails while waiting patiently for Tom and Jim. John, the youngest of the family was with his friend playing marbles in front of the house. Lastly, the father, Martin was there reading his Sunday paper. As he was slightly bald, now and then a fly would bother him. Soon the girls left, and John went to the neighborhood show. I think I ' ll go to the club and play some golf, announced Martin, You don ' t think for one minute you ' re going to leave me alone, do you? I ' m going with you. I feel like playing a little golf myself. I ' ll go and get dressed now, replied Matilda. Before Martin could say anything, she had gone into the house. He knew she couldn ' t play, and he would be embarrassed to take her, but once she made up her mind it was futile for him to try and change it. She came out with the golf clubs, and they started off in the car. Let ' s go to a show instead. There ' s a good picture playing at the Rialto, remarked Martin. No, answered Matilda, I ' ve seen it, and besides I want to play golf. They arrived at the club and began to play. Matilda teed off, and much to the surprise of Martin her ball didn ' t go out of bounds, Martin was so nervous because some of his friends might see him that his ball went off of the greens. The same thing occurred at every hole, and of course, Matilda won. It so happened that Mr. Blotz, a man who was sponsoring a tournament for women, saw Mrs, White ' s playing, Would you like to enter the tournament for women next week? inquired Mr, Blotz. Why I ' d love to do that, responded Mrs, White Next week the tournament took place, and Matilda won. She re- ceived a silver cup which was more than Mr, White had accomplished, Matilda, where did you learn to play so well? asked Martin, You remember those nights that dinner was late, replied Matilda, Well I had been out taking lessons, All Martin said was, Oh, I see. Betty Jane Christensen, High Nine.

Page 25 text:

Ferry Noises Oh, the racket on the ferry when the cars begin to start. To distinguish one ' s oivn thoughts amid the din is quite an art, There ' s the loud and raucous crackling of the little old tin Ford, (It takes all one ' s Vocal power to get in one single word ). And the loiu melodious purring of the elegant sedans, (With all the noise it sounds like someone beating on tin pans) And when they start to honk their horns in getting off the boat, The noise is just enough to split your head and get your goat. There ' s the shrill and high-up chatter of tin lizzies and their kind, And the low deep-throated clatter of the trucks that are behind; There ' s the loud insistent bleating of the stately limousines. And the sporty roadsters ' bugles, hailing men of wealthy means. Oh, the racket on the ferry ivhen the people go ashore. As they honk their horns in screaming notes, to make that deafening roar. Betty Lou Howard Low Nine. Autiiinn Thoughts I The leaves are falling from the trees; Gone are the busy humming bees. The north wind luhistles as it blows; The crops are in, dusk ' s fire glows. II The pumpkins on the dark earth lie; As gaily children scamper by. The turkeys strut and corn stalks blow; As if expecting luinter snow. Faith Franklin, High Fight. The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe (Gordon Harding ' s version) There was an ancient adult human female, who Fstablished her domicile in a buskin or shoe. So numerous were her descendants, vociferous too. She but feebly determined what course to pursue. So she nourished her genera, both branch and root. With fluid from the flesh of a vertebrate brute. Quite unaccompanied by portions of the staff of l ife, And then in desperation, the distracted old ivife. She castigated them effectually, promptly arose. And dispatched them, weeping, to a couch of repose. Gordon Harding, Low Seven.

Page 27 text:

Feet Tramp, tramp, tramp — Tloey marclj in single file. Plod, plod, plod — Weary of exile. Tramp, tramp, tramp — TJoe prison floors are worn From the plod, plod, plod Of forgotten and forlorn. Tramp, tramp, tramp — On tide wall tJoe sentry stands. Plod, plod, plod— A deadly rifle in Jois Jjands. Tramp, tramp, tramp — Does no one tloinli each day Of those IV ho plod, plod, plod Their weary lives away? Lilian Hennessey, High Nine. AN AFRICAN APRIL SHOWER My, I ' m hot! I ' m so thirsty and dirty! Doesn ' t it ever rain in this country? said Joan as the Cape Cart jogged monotonously along through the dust. The two little girls were room mates at boarding school in Cape Town. They were going up country to Paddy ' s home, Springbok, for the Easter vacation. To Joan, who was English, Africa was still a very strange and wonderful land. They had come by train to the end of the railroad and had been met by Cousin Peter and the Kaffir boy. Mustard, in the Cape Cart. Cheer up Joan, said Paddy. We will soon come to Spring Kloof where we can wash our hands at least. Soon! thought poor Joan as she looked around the dry sandy veldt for some signs of water. Oh! I wish it would rain for a week! The cart dropped suddenly down into a dry kloop, or river bed, and stopped. Why are we stopping, Padd,y? Paddy didn ' t answer, but scrambled over the high wheel. The boys were already down and had commenced to dig in the sand. After the hole was two feet deep, sure enough it began to fill with water. Late that night they arrived at Silverfontain, a large Boer cattle farm near the Oliphants River, where they were to spend the night. The children ate their supper of milk, mealies and biltong and thank- fully crawled into bed. Only two more days and we ' ll be home, said Paddy as she blew out her candle.