Glenville High School - Olympiad Yearbook (Cleveland, OH)

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THE REFLECTOR GEORGIA’S CURE r HAT a pity that she wasn't a boy! exclaimed Mrs. Kainc as she looked through the large living-room window at the vacant lot across the road where her tom-boy daughter. Georgia, was playing leap-frog with a crowd of the village boys. “She certainly is strong and healthy but she has become altogether too old to indulge in such rough games.” And this was only too true. Georgia was a tall, red-cheeked girl of sixteen, very boyish in appearance, but with a happy good natured-looking face. She was the idol of the village boys, in fact their leader, but the modest young ladies of her age shunned her somewhat. As Georgia tripped gayly into the house after she had grown tired of playing, she noticed that her mother appeared to be sad and thoughtful. “What’s the matter, Ma?” Mrs. Kaine looked at the overheated girl steadily and began, “Georgia, my dear, I have something important to sav to you, I----“ “For heaven’s sake, Ma, why on earth do you call me Georgia? I’m not really a girl and I sure ain't a state. From now on my name’s George, do you understand?” “Georgia,” continued her mother quietly, “do you realize that you’re sixteen now and that it’s high time that you turned over a new leaf and acted as a young lady of that age should? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself when you see other girls of your age grouped together on porches, sewing, chatting, having a wonderful time together and ----and-----sort of ignoring you ?’’ “I should worry about the girls, the dear sweet niolly-ccKkPes,” said Georeia in a sarcastic tone. “The boys are full of life and they all like me. Me for the fun whi’e I’m young , and with this she threw off her cap and sprawled herself on the living room floor to read the paper. “It’s impossible,” thought her mother, “nothing under the sun can chanee her . Rally day at the village church was approaching and that was the time when everyone attended in his best clothes. As Georgia’s outfit was becoming shabby her mother proposed that they drive to the nearest town in order to buy a fine new one for the occasion. Georgia thought that her clothes were all right but she finally consented to her mother’s suggestion. On reaching the store mother and daughter first visited the shoe department. “I want a pair of tan shoes with low heels,” answered the young lady after the clerk had asked what she could do for her. “The plainest and most boyish-looking pair you’ve got. I want ’em good an’ big, too . When the clerk, rather astonished, brought out a very ugly pair of high tan ones with extremely low heels, “Oh, those are just great,” exclaimed Georgia, “exactly what I wanted!’’ “Georgia ”, said Mrs. Kainc quietly, “you really don’t like those? “Don’t like ’em, well, why shouldn’t I ? I’ll take them, they're the very kind I wanted”, replied the girl in a good natured manner. They next visited the suit, blouse and millinery departments. Georgia chose an extremely tailored navy serge suit, a linen waist with a high collar, a boy’s tie and a very mannish-looking black hat. She ended her shopping by purchasing a swagger stick. As they were driving home, Georgia commented on her fine taste, thoroughly disgusting her mother. At last the great day came! From all over the village, people were flocking to the little church in their Sunday best. All the young ladies wore fine silk dresses, beautiful hats and shoes with wonderfully high heels. Georgia can be imagined in her outfit of which she was very, very proud. As Mrs. Kaine had been unusually busy that morning, she and her daughter did not arrive at church until after the program had begun, and as it was Rally Day, the little church was crowded and they were obliged to stand. The children of the Sunday school had an important part in the program. 30

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THE REFLECTOR ears to catch the words but not one was audible. After what seemed hours of waiting to Jimmy, crouched down in a cramped position in the back of the car, the two culprits entered the garage. Jimmy caught his breath as Bob seated himself at the wheel and whispered an “all right” to Frank. Slowly the car began to move. The thought had never struck Jimmy that his brother would elope in their little old Ford. But now it seemed only natural that Bob and his Elizabeth should run away in an auto. People nowadays used machines for everything. Slowly the car rolled out to the street, where the noise of the engine would not be so noticable to him (Jimmy) supposedly sleeping in the house. Then Frank, who had been pushing it, went to the front of the car, gave it a crank, jumped in beside Bob, and they were off. They headed directly for the country, and were soon bumping along over a rough country road. Jimmy could stand it no longer. It would have been bad enough had Bob been running away with a girl from the city. But a country girl. This was too much! Jimmy mustered up all his courage and yelled, “Stop! The car came to a standstill so suddenly that Jimmy’s head and the back of the front seat came into violent contact. “What in the name of Jee-ru-sa-lem are you doing here? exclaimed Frank. Bob fairly raged. Jimmy spoke up bravely, still rubbing his head. His words were aimed at Bob. “Where are you going? Bob started to say something but Frank stopped him. Frank was always cooler than his friend in an emergency. “Well sir, if it will do your highness any good to know, we’re going to a ‘Booster’s’ initiation, if you know what that is.’’ Jimmy knew what that was, for he remembered hearing Bob tell of the time he was initiated into the “Boosters Society”. Then patiently Frank explained everything to Jimmy—how they were going out to a certain farm where the new members of the Club would do various stunts. Then slowly Jimmy told how he happened to be in the Ford. The whole time a question was weighing on his mind. Finally it came out in nine breathless words. Where’s Elizabeth that you was gonna rim away with?” Bob, who had been fuming with rage a second before, let out a mighty whoop. Frank roared with laughter. With that question they realized what interpretation Jimmy had given the note. “You little fool!’’ said Bob between his roars of laughter, “You’ve been riding in Elizabeth for the last half hour. Helen White. THE ANGELS “Aid me—or I die!’’ she cried— Liberty, held in the tyrant’s power— And a million brave ones, side by side, Marched toward the fatal hour! For, as each one said a last “Goodbye! A voice like a dying zephyr’s breath, In a faint and sorrowful murmuring sigh, Whispered, “ Tis to the death! ’ Then at the front, they fought and gained; And “Over the Top” the banner bore, And as the bullet about them rained, They cursed the demon “War. Now, cracked the earth from east to west, And awful horror reigned supreme; And then—divine, eternal rest!— Disturbed by ne’er a dream. But after one long, dreary night. And at the morn’s triumphant birth, Still-mortal eyes ope’d by the light, Beheld—a heaven on earth! White cots—old comrades lying there— And soothing gentleness of hands, Then each poor soldier breathed a prayer, “God bless these Angel Bands! V. Whitworth.

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THE REFLECTOR When the Kaines arrived, a little boy of about five years of age was saying a little piece in honor of the day. He suddenly, however, came to a difficult passage which he forgot and began to look about the church in an embarrassed manner. He suddenly caught sight of the mannish-looking Georgia, from whom he could not look away, but was forced to stare at question-ingly. He was studying her and something perplexed him. Finally he pointed his tiny finger at her and exclaimed aloud, I didn't think boys dressed up like girls but look at that one! He’s even got girl’s hair!” Georgia blushed. She felt the eyes of everyone in that church upon her. She quickly grasped her mother’s hand. “Come Mother, let’s go home. I guess what you said about that young lady stuff is true. —Dorothy Hosi.hr. THE TALE OF A SCHOOL BOOK 1AM a school book. Between the pieces of cardboard that go to make up my • cover arc lodged sundry facts and hypotheses. It is generally supposed that the information which I contain is to be assimilated and digested by my owner. It frequently happens, however, that he has severe mental dyspepsia, in which case my nutritional value is left untouched and the gray matter of my possessor undergoes various depreciative changes. One who has a disorder of this type is commonly said to have nothing between the cars. In some cases vestiges of former gray matter remain but these rapidly deteriorate into a substance resembling bone. I first made the acquaintance of my present owner on a bright, sunny autumn day. Previous to this I had been deposited upon a shelf with the many other brother and sister books and life had been uneventful. But my career began when I was taken from the shelf and deposited in the pocket of my new friend. From the very first I must confess he was not overjoyed with my presence. He did not take an active interest in me as I supposed he would. I had expected him to peruse my pages in ecstacy and wonderment. But no such thing and I gathered that he looked upon me as a necessary evil, something to be obliged to have but not to get too familiar with. As time went on. however, his attitude toward me gradually changed. I do not know whether it was voluntary or whether pressure was exerted upon him from some other source, but, nevertheless, instead of being thrown into corners and forgotten. I was gradually pressed into service. Sometimes he wrinkled his brow and glared at me in the street car. sometimes at home, sometimes it was just before school. But there was one particular part of every day that he condescended to notice me. This was at lunch time. I often wondered why he devoted five minutes to me at this time. It was such a short time and I could not see how it was possible to learn much with a mouth full of pie and an ear full of someone's chatter. Probably it was to find out how much he did not know. But I suppose those five minutes meant a lot to him because the next hour was mine and together we would go to class and he would say some things that were in me, and a good many that were not and stand a poor show of ever being in any other book. One thing that always made me angry was the way he used to make faces at me when he studied. If I had only been a camera instead of a book this would be a “movie” instead of a case of mispelled words and unbalanced sentences. First he would assume an expression of deep thought: his evebrows would come together and his forehead would wrinkle. This would be followed by an expression half disgust, half anxietv. During this second stage he would emit sighs that would stir the soul of a Shylock to compassion. After this, followed the period of complete disgust, 31