Hammond Central School - Spotlight Yearbook (Hammond, NY)

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10 HAMMOND HIGH HAPPENINGS always pick on us little Freshmen ? The next event of the season was the Christmas din- ner. We all looked forward to that. Then, one day a notice was put up on the bulletin board. It read some- thing like this: “Freshmen girls are to serve the Christmas dinner. The Freshman boys will act as scavengers.” This was not quite as bad as being initiated but we didn't enjoy watching some one else eat all the jello. Some of us were kept busy carrying pie to the Seniors. We decided that they were the champion eaters of Ham- mond High School. Of course, our brains haven't developed very much yet. Why we're only babies (so the Seniors say). We toil away trying very hard to get honor marks for every quiz. We carry an armful of books home every night and study until our so-called empty heads begin to ache. A few weeks ago we, the Freshmen, got our revenge on the Seniors. We had them go before the Assembly, whisper, point to the clock, and pass notes. One of us said he thought it looked like a gathering of nuts! Long and loud laughed the Frosh! We were even. There are several kinds of nuts, but the fresh ones are always better than the older ones. Some day, I hope, we will be Seniors. Then we will remember how we felt when they initiated us and we will have pity on the Frosh of that year — may be. —Elsa Grant.

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12 HAMMOND HIGH HAPPENINGS THE DAY OF DAZE By Dorothy Conger A whir — the grating and grinding of brakes — the frightened scream of a child, and the sudden halt of a graceful limousine! A deathly silence of the hilar- ious group, gathered in the car, followed this outburst. In a flash, the girl at the wheel snatched open the door and gazed in horror upon the marble-like face of a small girl. The afternoon sun stretched its great, yellow fingers across the green park, filled with holiday loafers, ontc the white brow of the child, lying huddled in front of the automobile. A tremor passed over her meager little body, which, for a moment, strove to regain con- sciousness, then lapsed into passiveness again. Unmind- ful of her lovely tea frock, the girl gathered the child into her arms and gently placed her in the car. Steer- ing through the curious, gaping crowd, which had gath- ered, ever conscious of excitement, Anne Trezvant let out a burst of speed and flying by seemingly endless traffic cops, buildings and patches of green, which might have, at a decent speed, resembled land, she at length, came to a stop before the Mercy Plospital. With a flutter, a pair of pale eyelids flew open, re- vealing a pair of dark blue eyes, which seemed to be the largest part of the pinched, little face, which looked pathetically up at Anne, without recognition. They snapped shut and the child again passed into a state of unconsciousness. Anne stretched her stiffened muscles and rose to meet the approaching surgeon. “She will