Grant High School - Memoirs Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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U. S. Grant MEMOIRS Page 7 “Oh, isn’t this a perfect spot?’’ breathed Gloria ecstatically as her eyes drank in the fresh spring beauty of the velvety moss, the budding trees, the cool, clear brook. “I’m glad you like it,” Dave said simply. “Jerry and I spend all of our spare time here.” The afternoon passed all too quickly for Gloria who was fascinted by the interesting things Dave had told her about the woods. She promised to meet him there the next day. And so this beautiful friendship was started. Day after day they met there, studying and marveling at the botanical specimens that Dave had taught her to look for, and finding new interests in nature that she had never dreamed existed. They found that they had much in common—and so their bond of friendship ripened. One day David had to go to town and Gloria was left alone with her thoughts. Why did she allow Dave to interest her? Could it be that she was beginning to care for him? Why, he was only a country boy, a farmer. She tried to convince herself of this, but Dave’s cheerful, smiling face appeared reproachfully before her. And she, Gloria Winthrop, digging around in the woods for worthless bits of roots and leaves! Why she must have been crazy to do that for all of these weeks! Why she hated this farm! She firmly resolved not to see him again. Gloria was out in the little garden that she and Dave had so carefully cultivated. A car came up the road. “Why, it’s Ed’s car! And there’s Kev and Jean with him,” she cried joyously as she ran to meet them. “Hello, old girl. Thought we’d drag down to see if you were still amongst the living,” called Ed Canby, a dissipated looking youth of the idle rich. Through Gloria’s mind flashed a quick comparison between Dave and Ed. Ed did look sickly beside Dave, she thought to herself. After the girls had exchanged greetings Gloria asked, “Won’t you let me bring you something cool to drink if you haven’t time to come in?” “Sure thing, but rush the order as we have a date to keep, called Beverly Gordon as Gloria turned to go. “Gloria’s getting to be quite the farmerette,” laughed Jean Faulkner, sarcastically. “Yeh, I guess she’s just like her old man—made for the farm. Dad says that Winthrop has about as much business ability as a farmhand,” cuttingly rejoined Ed. “Oh, I guess it’s just as well we dropped her when we did. The gang was getting tired of her anyway,” said Bev cattily. “Hey, look at the village cut-up coming up the road,” mocked Ed as he pointed to Dave. “He must be our fair Gloria’s suitor and—” Ed stopped. His face blanched. “Lo-ook,” he stammered to the girls. They turned. They gasped. Gloria stood there, her head thrown proudly back, her fists clenched, her eyes blazing. “So, my fine friends, 1 am quite the farmerette and my father, a farm-hand at business. Oh, we were all right when you could use us, our cars, our servants, and our home. I don’t care what you say about me, but I won’t tolerate any slander against my father, my home, or

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Page 6 MEMOIRS V. P. Grant ........ iled on this impossible old farm without any decent clothes and dim chances of ever getting any more. And they expected her ro learn to like this life—to become a country milkmaid! “I won’t like it! I won’t!” she angrily declared as she kicked viciously at an unoffending rock. Gloria raised her eyes and saw a tall, curly-haired boy with a disturbing smile looking at her. How could anyone smile in this miserable place? One of the natives she supposed. “I beg your pardon, I am David Taylor, your nearest neighbor. I came over to see if there was anything that I could do to help you folks get settled.” “Well, your neighborly interest is not wanted,” she snapped. “I’m sorry if I have offended you, but you see I was talking to your father yesterday about his business failure, and I thought that perhaps I could do something to make you a little happier,” he tactfully explained. Gloria’s eyes smouldered. “You needn’t discuss my father’s affairs as they are none of your business. And I shall never be happy here! I hate it, I tell you. Hate it, and you, too, you—you farmer!” she screamed as she fled into the house. David was bewildered. He had never been rebuffed like that before. But he wasn’t to be daunted. “I’ll bring Jerry over tomorrow and perhaps he can help me win her friendship,” he mused thoughtfully to himself as he slowly wandered down the path between the farms. The next day David came over to the Winthrop’s determined to secure a measure of Gloria’s confidence, no matter how small. He found her lying in the hammock apparently unconscious of his coming. He tip-toed softly over to her and with his most winning smile whispered, “Jerry and I have come to see you.” “Are you here again?” exclaimed Gloria, exasperatingly. “I thought I told you that I didn’t want you to bother me.” “If you’ll only let us stay we’ll promise not to bother you,” David pleaded earnestly. “Oh, I suppose you’ll have to stay. But don’t look to me for entertainment for you and your friend—whoever he is.” “Pardon me. Miss Winthrop. Allow me to present my best pal, Jerry Taylor,” he announced. Gloria looked around disdainfully, expecting to see another boy. A delighted smile spread over her face as Dave drew from his pocket a little brown chipmunk. “Oh, isn’t he darling? Do let me see the furry little thing,” cried Gloria who was interested and pleased in spite of herself. When Dave left that evening he had secured a half promise from Gloria to go with him to the little woods back of the two farms and visit some of his and Jerry’s favorite haunts. He intended to make her keep that promise, too. He chuckled happily to himself as he said, “Say, Jerry, did you hear her call me ‘Dave’?” It was a lovely spring morning when Dave, Gloria and Jerry started towards the woods. Along the way Dave pointed out many interesting things that Gloria's less observant eyes would have missed. They reached their destination before they knew it.

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Page 8 MEMOIRS U. S. Grant David. I have learned to love it here, out of the frenzied rush for money. Money—that’s all that counts with you—you despicable creatures,” Gloria cried scornfully as she left them pale and trembling. Blinded by tears and choking with rage, Gloria flung herself upon the ground and bathed her hot, flushed face in the cool water. Something furry rubbed her head. It was Jerry. “Did you come to comfort your Gloria because she was crying? Well, I guess they’ll never say mean things about our David again. Hateful things! We'd rather live here on these farms near David than in a palace in the city, wouldn't we Jerry?” asked Gloria, rubbing his soft head against her cheeks. David having searched everywhere for Gloria decided that she must have gone to their stream. As he reached the end of the path, he heard her talking to Jerry. He watched her quietly for a while; then walked softly over to her and said tenderly, “Dear Gloria, did you mean what you said to Jerry? But no, you wouldn’t have. Why, I’m only—” “My country boy,” interrupted Gloria, smiling happily through her tears. And so the problem of Gloria's life was solved, and the unconscious accomplice complacently cracked a nut for his own consumption. —Leona Moyer. Tony Angelo My name is Tony Angelo. I true Italian; I come to dees Americee Be citizeen eef can. I got no freens in desa lan’ But one beeg brodder reech, Who owns a vegetable stan, And won’t help me, no seech. I sata on the curbin’ there. And I did feel so blue, Till long there come a pleecaman Who say, “Go long there—you!” And then I look at him an say, “St. Pete, who do I see? None odder dan my good ol freen— Sanody Hanallee!” Well, now it’s been 'bout two tree months, Since dat renumbered day— And now I’ve got a pleec-force job, And gooda home, an’ pay. But let me tell you dees, ma freen ; Jus plees keep up your pluck; For there’s a lot in what you say. Just trusting teengs to luck. —Ruth Mulchay.