Hamden Hall Country Day School - Perennial Pine Yearbook (New Haven, CT)

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THE MISNOMER Two nights ago while I was reading a book, the telephone rang. Being quite interested in the story, I continued to read, hoping that someone else would answer it. I guess everyone in the house had the same idea, for it was still ringing and was beginning to acquire that plaintive quality that telephones get when no one answers them. Reluctantly I laid the book aside, got up, strode to the phone, picked up the receiver, and brusquely said, Hello? The deep, male voice at the other end of the wire asked, Is Mr. Roche at home? Abandoning the brusque tone I had hitherto employed, I replied that he was not. Will you please take a message, Mn. Roche? Too embarrassed to explain, I slumped back into the chair near the telephone stand and took the message. While I was doing this, the room seemed to grow red, quite possibly from the red glare which assuredly had flooded my face. Well, thank you, Mn. Roche. Again that odious misnomer! I was too weak to get out of the chair. Oh, why doesn't my voice get deeper? Tom Roche Form IV I WON'T When exams come up, some people get all flustered, I won't. They walk into the testing room with knees as weak as custard, I won't. They review for Weeks and weeks ahead, The day before they stay in bed, I won't. They get so nervous that they just can't talk, I won't. They move dejectedly up the walk, I won't. And then they think it's quite a cinch, They take the test without a Hinch, l won't. They think of it always after that day! I won't. They seem to have thrown all their hope away, I won't. This group seems to make up most of the class, You know the type-they always pass, I won't. Richard Powelson Form VI F 0 nfyrrix

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fl CASES 2869 AND 2870 . There are many kinds of dogs: large, small, fat, thing black, white. My dogs, however, are in a class of their own. They are psychological cases. My small black cocker spaniel, Curly, knows a great many things unknown to most people. For instance, did you know that tables bite, chairs pounce on you, doors jump at you, and stoves, the most ferocious of all, will eat you up if given a chance? Therefore, these objects must be approached with great caution. With these facts in mind, Curly sneaks by chairs and tables in a wide arc and dashes madly through doors. In this way these formidable forces have no chance to exer- cise their terrible powers. The only really safe place in the house is, oddly enough, under a bed. My Airedale, Patsy, on the other hand, is an extrovert with a persecution complex. She is ignorant of the above-mentioned forces and so wanders blissfully unafraid among the terrifying maze of tables, chairs, stoves, and doors. However, if you should happen to reproach her with some unkind word, she immediately lowers her head, rolls her soulful brown eyes mournfully, and droops sadly out of the room. A few minutes later she droops back into the room, morosely puts her paw in your lap, and gives you what is known as a uhangdog look. This makes you feel like an unspeakable cad, so you pat her head gently, mutter, There! There! , and apologize profusely for hurting her feelings. She then forces herself to assume a cheerful air and wanders off, a martyr. One of the most amazing aspects of these animals is the fact that small, timorous Curly comes forth the victor of every fray, while big, fearless Patsy cowers on the floor in abject defeat. As a result of this relationship with my dogs, I feel well qualified to become a canine psychiatrist, always ready to straighten out the troubles and complexes of Man's Best Friend. Emily Perrins Form VI SAVED BY AN ARMY HELMET It happened one spring day when I was about eight years old. My brother had planned to go on a hike with his army. The army consisted of five boys and one girl. Bill was the oldest and my brother was next to the oldest. I went along as nurse. We were taking our lunch, expecting to stay all day. We got to our destination about 10:00, then played around until lunch time, ate, and played some more. It was about 2:30. My brother was on the ledge above me which was all of six feet high. Bill was shooting peas at him. He tripped and fell to the ground with a thud. For a few seconds he lay very still. To our bewilderment he sat up and began to cry. We were so glad he was alive. We took him home, and my mother took him to the doctor. The doctor said if he hadn't had a helmet on, he would be dead. He got a terrific gash over his left eye. I think I am quite lucky to have a brother alive. Don't you? Nancy MacKinster Form I Forty-ive

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ROBBIE RABBITS EASTER There was an Egg Hunt on Easter Day, And Robbie Rabbit felt very gay, For he hoped he would be the first to see The big prize egg. Where could it be? He hopped along to a hornet's tree, As he thought that there the egg might be. The hornets were angry, and told him so. Never come back, they said. Now go! Away he went with a hippity-hop. But soon he came to a sudden stop, For there was the egg in a little hole- The home of Mrs. Jenifer Mole. The other creatures crowded 'round To see the egg that Robbie found. They lifted him high and danced about. 'Twas a happy Easter without a doubt. Rodameir Duncan Form I THE FLOWERS He was a sweet little old man with kindly eyes and a heart big enough for all. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were brimmed with twinkly tears from Fall's jovial little puffs of winds. An unlighted cigar protruded from the corner of his mouth, and in his hands he held a most beautiful treasure of nature-spicy-smelling purple and white chrysanthemums. You could see in a glance that he was an ardent lover of flowers and cherished his chrysanthemums, they being the last flowers of the year. When he entered the bus, everyone stopped talking and looked at the smiling old gentleman. Being an old man, he was offered many a younger person's seat, but he always refused, almost indignantly, implying that he was not yet too old to stand with the others. Although he was standing among all sorts of milling people, he managed to guard his treasure from the elbows of the careless and unconcerned. From my seat I could hear an elderly woman praise his flowers. He also heard and moved towards the speaker. When he reached her, he pulled out a beautiful sprig of his bouquet and gave it to her. He then proceeded to give away his spicy gifts to everyone and anyone who glanced at his quickly dwindling bouquet of chrysanthemums. When his journey was at last near an end, I overheard him remark to a passenger that these were the last of his flowers. In his hands, when he finally stepped off the bus, were left a few neat sprigs. Long after he was gone one could still smell the spicy flowers and the unlighted cigar. He had brought happiness to many riders that morning with his last flowers of the year. Beverly Schumacher Form V Forty-:even