Girls High School of Brooklyn - Blue and Gold Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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was light, curly because mine was relentlessly straight, and long because mine was kept short. I often dreamed of a miraculous growth of hair which shortened every time I played a prank-a result of reading Pinnoccio. My demoiselles wore red hair ribbons because my hair was too red itself to permit any indulgence in my favorite color. The glasses were probably added because my eyes were too keen to make it necessary for me to wear them. I had my answers all prepared, so that, if a terrible ogre should ask me whether or not I wanted to wear glasses, I could immediately say no, and pretend surprise and sorrow when he forced me to wear them. During this time my father went away for a week, and the night after his return my mother entered our room with such a mysterious air that we knew a surprise was in store for us instead of the usual Robert Louis Stevenson poems, and we curled, up in anticipation. First she asked us in a delightfully confident way whether we could keep a secret. We hastened to assure her that we could. Then, to prolong the delicious suspense, she gave us three guesses as to what the secret was. Because of my age and sex, I was yielded first guess. A puppy? I ventured, and immediately wished I hadn't, for I hated to hurt my mother by making her admit that it wasn't. Mother shook her head, but, much to my relief, not sadly. After Frederick had guessed even a tricycle, and she had said, Better, we could wait no longer, but demanded a prompt explanation. The only sound in the room after she told us that we were going to move to New York, the city of dreams, was a very weak '6Oh. My dreams that night were a wild farrago, the main current of which showed a girl with black curls, red ribbons, glasses, pony and all, who ma- jestically scattered gold coins left and right. As she rode nearer I recog- nized her as myself! The next morning we plied father with innumerable questions, and he told us about his trip, step by step. When we learned about trains which ran on bridges in the air, and others which ran under rivers, all of which could be ridden on for five cents, we were confounded. In our small town there was but one railroad, and trains meant long journeys. After the narration had continued for quite a time, father casually mentioned ........ opening the gate, and was stopped short. A gate? To what? '4Why, to the fence, of course! To what fence, Daddy? Twelve

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New York 'I' was rush hour in the Tailor Shop in the factory town of the yet-to-be babies, and when I was hurried into the fitting room, the angel who was to equip me with my imagination was so weary, that she cut it out by the wrong pattern, and found it much too large. She was too much fatigued to fashion another, and she knew that discarding this precious substance was prohibited, so she rolled it up, and slipped it in, and looked for a place to send me where this overblessing wouldn't shrivel from under- nourishment. She found the place in a big old fashioned rectory, set in a lovely garden in a sleepy Vermont town. The long happy hours spent there fostered this inherent imagination, and my dreams gradually became so entwined with my surroundings, that even now, as I look back, it is impossible to distinguish between the two. In the garden there were many nooks and crannies in which the fairies might well have lived, and I remember wondering one day, when I crushed a tiny insect on the gravel path, whether that creature might not have heard the swish of my skirts and thought it a tempest, the crunch of my steps and thought it a blast of thunder, felt my final step and thought it a furious cyclone. Realizing that this was possible, it seemed a logical conclusion that our storms were but the movement of a colossal race, and death by accident but the careless step of a giant. I had a friend of about my own age, and together we enacted our fairy tales. My room had a small balcony, and there we waited for the prince to come scrambling up the rose lattice to us. While this sport was most popular, my aunt went to New York on business, and returned laden with gifts and descriptions for us. After this it was no longer in a balcony, but far up a skyscraper, that we waited for our prince to climb over the roses. It never occurred to us to doubt the existence of the roses. Soon, with what wonder-lore we had gleaned from my aunt, and the greater supply taken from our own fertile imaginations, we made New York our Dream City. We visioned it populated with little girls, dressed in silks and satins, riding milk white ponies through glittering streets. These girls, although they were beautiful to me then, would seem strange in many ways if I could see them now, for they all had long black curls, red hair-ribbons, and--eye glasses! Their hair was always black because mine Eleven

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Then he explained-our new house had a fence! This impressed us tremendously. Richford houses didn't have fences! It also made things simpler, for it would be much easier to pick our house out quickly. I didn't keep the secret. When my friend refused to believe some of my fantastic tales about New York, I blurted it out to prove my point. I even added that we were going simply because she was so mean to me, and furthermore, that she would never receive any presents from me. She was completely suppressed, and even tearfully begged my mother to stay, promising to mend her ways. The long-awaited day finally arrived, and we boarded the train with no other mishap than my brother's fall into a puddle and the consequent temporary ruin of a previously immaculate white suit. We entered New York through a dirty, squalid, section of the city, which certainly did not measure up to my fantastic expectations. Perhaps the only reason that the shattering of all my visions did not leave me un- happy was that things were so diEerent that they kept me absorbed. The bedding, hanging out of windows to air, the children in the streets, the pushcarts, and the crowds, were so astounding to me that my eyes seemed too small. My father, because it was convenient, and to oblige me, took us to our new home by the elevated railway. I never go around a curve on one to this day, without remembering that first ride, when I measured the distance to every housetop. . Now, although I have learned that little girls here don't all ride ponies, and can't all have red ribbons, indeed, don't even want glassesg although I know that the buildings are not gold, and the people are not as wealthy in money as they might wish, although I've changed these dreams for others, I still believe that New York is, at heart, a fairyland. Barbara Tripp, January, 1933. SYMBOL Pm past the age to romp and run, I have to live with little fung But still I have as wish and hope: A rainbow for my skipping rope. Aldona Mikolainis, June, 1931. Thirteen