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

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, HOW TO MAKE PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES Often in the afternoon I look greedy-eyed at the peanut butter jar just to see if there is enough to make some peanut butter cookies. However, on this particular day, with a friend I had just met in my new home in the country, I was not disappointed. I looked at the jar once again to make sure my eyes were not deceiving me because only twice before I had left enough from the morning breakfast for some afternoon appetizers. I almost thought that the good sight would disappear if I didn't take it pretty soon, so I took it and walked over to the counter. I took a bowl down from the cupboard. It was a nice big bowl, just right for my stomach-filling purposes. Now I got out a baby recipe book that some girl had given me for my birthday a long while backf Hmn. Cream sugar and peanut butter, or something that resembled those words. I went forth with project A. Project B was to take out some Crisco when my mother wasn't looking. That completed, I commenced Project C. My com- manding ofhcer, the recipe book, told me to get an egg or two and beat them up separately. Disregarding the latter part of my instructions, I beat up the eggs with the other contents. My punishment was-wondering whether the campaign, the cookies, would be successful. Next came two tablespoons of milk. Since I was going to wash the dishes, I didn't think I'd bother using a tablespoon, so I guessed as to the amount. Result-too much. Next and last on the orders for the day was to sift baking powder, salt, and flour. Disregarding the little four-letter word sift, I threw in the contents. Again I worried about the results. The next step, after my friend had waxed the cookie sheet, was to put it in the lighted oven. The oven would not light, so bold little .I decided to light it from underneath with a match. Result-burns and singed hair on my arms. However, in spite of all obstacles, the campaign was won, and the cookies came out well. ' Alan Dann Form II CLEANING A DESK DRAWER Early one morning you awake. The sun is shining in through the window, making the sun-beams dance on the desk. Yes, that desk, its drawer needs a complete cleaning. It's been a long time since that drawer has been neat. Therefore directly after straight- ening the room you decide to tackle the immense undertaking of cleaning the desk drawer. First you place a waste-basket and a card-board box in front of you. The former is to discard the absolutely unnecessary things, and the latter is to contain articles that you may some day want. The remaining objects, which shall be few, will be put neatly back. As you start rummaging through the drawer, you discover an old letter you forgot to mail due to the lack of a stamp. No wonder you never received that long awaited reply. Old purchasing slips, advertisements, and scraps of paper are immediately crumpled into the basket, while you toss used notebooks, old snapshots, and letters into the card-board box. Finally everything is removed. You can hardly believe all that could have been in one drawer. After much deliberation you start returning things that you think should survive this sudden burst of enthusiastic neatness. Slowly and very carefully you restore a few articles to their home. There, the drawer's all neat and looks like a model of cleanliness. At that moment the telephone rings. Your friend has arrived unexpectedly from New York and will be at your home shortly. You dash into the room, and your eyes meet the revolting mess on the top of the desk. Articles of all shapes are balanced pre- cariously. You follow your first impulse. Yes, you quickly stuff everything into the desk drawer, and you are right back where you started. Reyna Schwartz Fifty-tix Form V

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A GRAIN OF SAND First let me introduce myself, I am a grain of sand, and I have lived on this same beach for almost 700 million years. I say almost because there was an interval of ten years when I did not live here. This is what happened during these ten years. One day I heard a great rumbling sound. At first I thought there was an earth-quake, and the other grains of sand had not told meg but no, when I looked up I saw a great monster with wheels and a long mouth that reached down and picked up all my friends around me. CThis is a steam-shovel.J Suddenly it was upon me. It picked me up so high that I could not see the ground. 4 If you remember, this was a grain of sand, so that the height was only six feet.J Then it opened up, and I fell for miles. CThe equivalent of a mile for a grain of sand is one foot.J I landed in another monster which had wheels and an open back. Later I found it was a dump- truck. I lay in the open for a few minutes until the monster with the long mouth came and dropped more sand on me. Then I saw ber! She was the prettiest grain of sand I had ever beheld. 4We fell in love with each other at first sight. We promised each other we would never part. Then the dump-truck started to move! I do not know how long it was before the truck stopped. Suddenly the back of the truck went up, and we went down, down. As we fell, my sweetheart and I were separated. I searched frantically for her, but in vain, she was nowhere to be found. I landed at the bottom of a pit. There I lay for a few months. After, a while I was scooped up with a lot of other sand by a boy who dumped me into a bowl. Then some shells were dropped on us. Luckily I was caught in one of the shells. I soon found I was in a gold-fish bowl. If I hadn't been caught in the shell, I would have been washed out when the bowl was cleaned. After a year the gold-fish died and I was thrown into a trash-can. The next day a garbage-truck came, and I was put into that. I was still in the shell and could not see a thing. Now this was in New York, and in New York the Sanitation Department puts all refuse on a garbage-scow. The garbage-scow then takes the garbage out in the water and throws it over-board. This is exactly what happened to me. As I was thrown over-board, another grain of sand fell into the shell with me. Suddenly water was all around me. Luckily the shell stayed afloat, and a great wave picked us up and brought us toward shore. I say us because there was another grain of sand in the shell with me. Being a rather bold grain of sand, I asked who it was. To my great surprise and happiness it was my sweetheart. She told me how she had gotten into the shell with me. Almost a year after we had parted, a little boy had gone into the place where she lay and got his shoes full of sandg thus she came into 'his shoes. The little boy's mother had emptied the sand into a trash-can, and from then on the same thing had happened to her as happened to me. We lay on the ocean-floor for many years, each day being washed a little bit more toward shore. At last the day came! A monstrous wave picked us up and carried us to dry land. There we stayed. Well, as I said, I lay here for 300 million years. I wonder what will happen during the next 700 million years. Rolf Margenau Form I Fifty-ive

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, FATE One brisk September morning my friend, Ann, and I felt the urge to take a nice, long walk. Our destination was the top of East Rock Park. Eagerly we started our long trek to the top, huffing and puffing with each step. Finally, after what seemed endless hours of climbing, we had reached the last giant stair. Breathlessly we started our way across the narrow foot bridge, which offers a wonderful view for miles around. Usually, because of the sheer drop directly below, we hurried across, but that day we lingered a few moments to drink in the breath-taking beauty. I stepped forward in order to get a better look, when suddenly my foot slipped- and over I went. I experienced the most sickening sensation in my stomach as I plummeted downward, realizing that every second would bring me closer and closer to my inevitable death. What a horrible way to die, I thought, being smashed to bitsf Suddenly, as if by a miracle, I was no longer falling, but swinging back and forth in the cool breeze, my coat having been caught on a projecting limb. Cautiously I looked about me. There were milling crowds above and below, all eagerly anticipating my every move. My hands clutched the limb tightly, and I prayed as I had never prayed before. In the far distance I heard the sound of screaming sirens. My hopes rose by leaps and bounds. My aching arms felt as if they were being torn loose from their sockets. I can't hold out much longer, I thought. Tiny beads of perspiration covered my forehead. Looking up, I saw a rope being lowered to me. Eagerly I reached for it. I missed! Again I tried, the tears streaming down my cheeks. Oh God, please don't let me die! Once more the rope was within my reach. My burning fingers entwined themselves around it. I hung on for dear life, thanking God every minute. Slowly and carefully I was being raised upward. Just another second and it will be all over, I thought. Chills ran up and down my spine. Kind hands reached out, pulling me to safety. How wonderful the earth felt-how solid, safe, and o-o-o-o-0-h-h. Everything was to black. Beverly Tata Form IV MAN'S FANCY TURNS To me spring's not when flowers bloom Or house cleaning's in every room, It doesn't mean birds which trill and sing Or showers that May Howers bring. When April comes, things start to thaw, And there's nothing written in any law That says a feller can't change his fancy From maybe Alice-to joan or Nancy. Or maybe spring means sun-green grass And bugs comin' out en masse. It can mean a feller's not so free 'Cuz there's work to do-at least for me! It's only a thought and could be worse, I could've written it in prose--but it's verse. Frederic Earle Form VI Fifty-Jeven