Glasgow High School - Hootman Yearbook (Glasgow, MT)

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P4 WHAT I NEED TO MAKE ME HAPPY How many times haven ' t I heard that popular jazz song, so characteristic of this pleasure maddened age, — I want to go where you go. Do what you do. Love when you love, Then I ' ll be happy! Indeed 1 have heard it from young and old alike, large and small. Prob- ably not all mean it, 1 hope not, but 1 v rill admit that I ' ve heard it sung in such an ardent manner and with so much fervor that I feel as if 1 ought almost to believe it. Yes, I know, some really do believe it. Do 1? Maybe I have sung it, but it just comes from hearing it repeated so many times. But as for the feelings behind it, — they ' re far, far away. What then, my friends may ask, would it take to make you real happy, utterly contented and completely satisfied? Is there anything in this wide old world that would be capable of such an orgy? Indeed — and very little, too. Riches, piles and piles of money — money to buy gorgeous clothes, fine limousines, mansions for homes and parties and cocktails and wonderful jewels! Some may pause here, aye, even stop and not want to go any farther, but as for me, what would I do with riches? True, 1 could satisfy all worldly desires, but do they really count? No! Fame? Fame by which my name would ring from, sea to sea and from shore to shore, whereby 1 would be praised and glorified and worshipped? No! That would be too unreal, too unlike living. It would be merely existing. Power? Force through which 1 could humble people, indeed, — nations, and make them kneel at my feet and say, Master, our lives are yours! No! Such force is brutal and far below what God intended. In such a state, 1 could never be happy. Knowledge? Would all the learning in the world, knowledge of all things, crammed into that very small brain of mine make me happy? No, No, never, 1 would surely be miserable then! What good could that do after I have left this earth, taking it with me? No, my desire can never be compared to any of these. You may be sur- prised, were 1 to tell you out of a clear sky that all in this world that could ever make me purely happy through and through, would be an everlasting Montana springtime with its warm, sunny, golden days, its soft green grass and exquisite sunsets, a vast Montana rangeland, swept by a warm breeze, dotted with tiny prairie roses and with gently rolling hills which appear like velvet folds as far as the eye can reach; a fiery, beautiful Montana mustang that could feel my mood, know my voice and be a real companion, and a peace and quiet that can only be found where Nature is as God created her. That, all that, to me, would be needed for sheer joy. A strange desire? Maybe for some one else but not for me, when one considers that 1 was born and raised on the open prairies of Montana with a — 44 —

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Tibbie Drinker, don ' t you dare call me country bred, just because you ' re from the city. Why not the blue shallon? ' Tis vastly unbecoming. Janice Faunce! Can ' t thee let the men alone? 1 will when thee will, airily laughed the girl. Do unto others quoted Tabitha. And suddenly the voices died out as suddenly as they had come. Tick-tock, tick-tock ... 1 again heard, or seemed to hear it telling me some of the interesting affairs that had been carried on under its face ... of grandmother ' s wedding, and feasts and stately company ... of children ' s patter . . . Johnnie, Johnnie, come quick, and see this sword! It ' s all mouldy and dirty and it ' s half in the ground! 1 can ' t get it out. . . . Little girls playing dolls, and little boys playing soldier with shining swords ... of spinning and weaving ... of carding wool ... of sewing and quilting bees ... of births and deaths, and soon another generation of youth passed beneath its time-worn face, with new joys and sorrows, loves and disappoint- ments, while the grandfather clock calmly and unhurriedly ticked on until yet another generation, loud of speech and careless of manners, ultra-modern and amazing, arrived. Well, little one, what ' s the secret sorrow you have on your chest? Won ' t father buy you that dress you want for the sorority dance? N-No, it ' s nothing like that, 1-1 just like the way you dress and act, that ' s all. That ' s simply noble and notorious of you and appreciation of your re- mark is something, I haven ' t anything else but — what ' s under the aureate curls? H-How to be popular? What makes you think 1 know? Do you picture me as having to use tear gas to keep the men away? I ' ll just bet you do. Well, supposing you win your bet, what makes you think you aren ' t? When a girl hardly ever gets any bids to parties and sits out most of the dances when she does, and when nobody honks outside her door, she knows. There, there, honey lamb, maybe there ' s something to be done about it. I ' ll tell you something, wee Jane, that your best friend wouldn ' t tell you. Your breath is as sweet as a cow ' s — and w hile that may not sound like a compli- ment, it is one. For one thing, you don ' t travel the boy ' s speed. Another, be yourself. Come on, let ' s go get some ice cream and talk it over. To spin, to weave, to knit and sew Was once a girl ' s employment. But now to dress and catch a beau Is all of her enjoyment. Again the words died out and 1 was just getting more than interested, too. And whether outworn, or in scorn, the clock looked down as if to say, I ' m out of date. This pace is too fast for me — and stopped. — M. H. ' 29. — 43 —

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horse for an only pet. To be able to leave all this busy world of hurrying people, noises, and hustling and bustling and fretting and worrying and hoping and studying this very day would indeed make me happy. Just think, eternal sunshine with no one to bother or nothing to think about — surely, then, I could be near my God ! — H. H. ' 30. LOST, FOUND, WANTED AND FOR SALE Lost: An opportunity to get better grades. — All of us. Found: A fine set of officers. — Juniors. For Sale: A lot of Greenness. — Freshmen. Wanted: To exchange, an inch of height for an inch of breadth.- Robert Spears. For Sale: Our pretty hair. — Harriet Christophersen. Wanted: Some Senior Dignity. — Juniors. THE FLAPPER OF TOMORROW Some months ago, 1 heard, upon good authority, that there had been unearthed in Europe, the bones of many pre-historic Europeans of the smooth stone age. While such an occurrence is not unusual, this one in particular was exceptional in that trinkets buried with the bones revealed much of the life of the owners. Probably the most interesting part of the discovery was a bone vanity case, found with the skeleton of a woman. This vanity case was much like those on the market today, and contained a red powder resembling rouge. Geologists have long known from similar discoveries that the men of that day decorated their faces with war-paint, but that flappers existed then is a new discovery. Ancient Egypt also had its flapper, along with many other things con- sidered modern. Of course, the flappers of the neolithic age and of ancient Egypt did not drive limousines or violate the eighteenth amendment, but they ■were as much in advance of their times as our flappers are in advance of ours. It is only human nature for the conservative element of society to be shocked and outraged at the actions of the progressive element, so that flap- pers must have existed as long as humans have. Throughout the middle ages, and, indeed, throughout much of modern times, women have been kept in oppression and have not been allowed the liberties now given them, but even in earlier days a progressive element must have existed or these changes would — 45 —