Hersey High School - Endeavor Yearbook (Arlington Heights, IL)

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1 i LOU CELLA '81 -,, , 1, 16 'ff , V11 r ' . 5 5 P .' f ' I .5 ' X-. f X x ,f i s l f , , Q 1 nt- Y 'P' se' 'J .R - . - ' A4 , ' war- .'5x,gp-:raw ia Aw jf ' SCOTT SUNDEEN '83 ,1r, vifrrr A X ,ffl -muff I o '. if T5 ' '15 wir:-'-2 - 2 , ia! ' f f 'ff' , 1 . YOLAN DA G UE VARA '81 UNHEARD SOUNDS Crickets Chirping throughout the night, Faucets Dripping, though out of sight. Wind Whispers through the Willow, Nothing is heard from under my pillow. by Sue Cohen '83 div' N M Cx' W ai af' 'E Q f I f 5 W WCW fl' ALLISON BARKOW '82 AWARENESS To draw, to create is a productive form of escape. But to realize, to understand is to hold life itself in your hand. by Carolyn Pasterski '82

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I will never .forget the looks on the children 's faces when we told them. You could see the mixture of emotions building inside them. It was just as confus- ing to them as it was to me. When you think about it though, is divorce easily understood by anyone? I had always thought that my family was a happy one, but I guess from my husband's point of view it wasn't. It was around Christmas time when he started act- ing strangel y, and I just couldn 't put m y Hnger on it. It was really beginning to bother me and I just couldn 't keep it in any longer. One morning I approach ed him. Is something wrong between us? I asked kind of hesitantly. I can 't really talk now or I ll be late for work. We ll talk tonight, he said. On that note he left for work. All through the day I wondered what he could pos- sibly have to say, and the thought of it kind of scared me. I tried toput it out ofmy mind but Ijust couldn 't. I was counting the minutes until he would get home so I could relieve m yself of this feeling. When he finally did get home, he was very quiet, verjb untalkative. I knew he had something on his min . We were sitting in the family room watching televi- sion. Both children wei P sleeping. I would look at him and he would turn away, as ifhe couldn 't bear to look at me. Then he spoke. Ian not happy anymore. I want a divorce. The words just went in one ear and out the other. I hadn't really grasped hold of them for a couple of seconds. When I Hnall y realized that the words were reality, I was shocked. He had to be kidding. It was a joke, We hardly ever fought and we got along quite well. We got into a discussion about it, and I realized that he wasn't kidding. He didn't love me anymore. He had someone else. I will never forget the incredible surge of pain that raced through me. I had a lump in my throat that would not cease. The pain was so great, that I find it hard to describe it. It was two weeks before Christmas when he told me, and he requested that we not tell the children until after Christmas. I said that that wasn 't fair to them. They had a right to know what was going on in Aim Grant r .1-eff5h :I QfA?5M 21: '-... Mug- f--. ' 1 1 J' S 'rf its qwatkxafl' .L -, . '- fn AzH'V x'13N-Q,3'f ,tif-Ye: ik' agar' ' .h Iggy- : pf '25,,-wffie-..,E'-'f L '.'M,':,,2- -if . f .:f4f' 1 .zf.1effrf- 1- R .'g1.fQ:1.fz' V:-.ri f A ' f. v L I :ff . ' .... if 1, Y - Q11 1 xii! Q4 ' xii ai-2' V' 1 2 433 fi I ttf.. .itil ai.-'If - ' ' 1 fy.-'31 WISE w ve. ,gy 2 l..,..,ff, ,,.- . ,ig ,.f ,. .. - .v,,l: .13ef3,rg 1,g:, ,. A r -y...,,, I gif :gg 1 , Mai'-a.f?g, 1 '1,.v.g,, iii.,-zz .1 Z.:cf ' w it imtfbas f 'Qs-t.-.D ..ff.,t5fe., ' , f'?t-599,32 Q ,KS-.. 31:3 - I . f . 11' . - ? 2 ff finttf rf.. .,, , :Q 'pi' . N, -, -. LE:.'.'-g:,,,g:: ,df f. H f .9929-'Qi' -1-:f ' '- X . Jw :f1..ig'E4 -. Q- . . ,A .-fc,-332' 47-:gm ,J I Q. , sf- x. . 7 21 fxygecs ,.-.Nu f-4 .iq ww 'ff M J. A . CAROL YN KERSEMEIER '84 their own home, for our daughter had already sensed that something was wrong. He was opposed to it, but he went along with it because it was what I wanted. Since when did he care what I wanted? I didn 't want a divorce and did everything in my po wer to get him to change his mind. It didn 't matter, however. He was leaving no matter what I said or did. Telling our two children was the hardest part of all. I demanded that he tell them because it was what he wanted. We were all sitting in the living room. He started to speak. Your mother and I are getting a divorce. That was all he said. My daughter immediately broke into uncontrolla- ble sobs. My son just sat there not knowing what to do. It irritated me that this was what be wanted and he left all the explaining up to me! My da ugh ter 's sobs and the look on my son's face will always be a vivid part of my memory. From then one, nothing was the same. Christmas went by with none of us really acknowledging it. Trying to be happy just isn't the same as the real thing. He stayed at the house for the week after Christ- mas. I don 't know why I ever agreed to that. It was so hard to see him there, especially to see him sleep on the couch. The days just dragged by. We all just walked around in a state of what seemed to be unconscious- ness. No one talked. My daughter and I cried. My son felt it hard to show his emotions. No one knew what to say. He left January Ist. The children and I went to my sister's so we wouldn 't be there to see him leave. It made it a little easier not having to see him in the house. As I look back now, I really thought that I was going to have an emotional breakdown. It was one of the most - no, the most - traumatic thing that's ever happened to me. Although it 's getting easier, at least once a day I think about it and cry quietly inside. Gina Stachniak '81 IH OR DIA CHENKO '84

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Song for Da vid She sat alone at the piano. It was dark and two candles softly illuminated the music and her tear- stained face. She looked at her hands with disgust- her beautiful hands with their classic, long fingers, hands that didn 't feel the music anymore. The music was there in her head, screaming for a way to get out, but it didn 't come. The lovely flowing melodies she imagined seemed flat and lifeless when played. Again she played her composition. It seemed too straight and formal to come from an eighteen-year-old girl. She crumpled the pages and started with a fresh peice of paper. Try to think of pleasant things, she thought, but all she could think of was fire, pain and death. Senseless waste, needless tragedy it had said in the paper. Why had she escaped? Why hadn't she taken the bus to school that day? She couldn't re- member now. All she could remember was the an- nouncement over the school loud speaker - 33 dead, 25 injured, train, fire . . .the words whipped through the music room. Immediately she knew-Da vid, Da vid was dead. She left the room and called home. Grandma answered. Yes, Da vid was on the bus . . .mother was at the hospital . . .no, he wasn't dead, just injured. When she got home, she heard the de- tails. David was in intensive care. He had burns over sixty percent of his body. The doctor said that there wasn 't much to do except pray. She prayed, promis- ing God anything if only He would spare her younger brother. When she saw him, she cried. His beautiful brown hair, so like her own, had been cut off His skin was burned in places. Only his eyes were the same -large and green. But instead of their usually sunny expres- sion, they held pain and suffering. He drifted in and out of consciousness. She talked to him. Sometimes it seemed as if he understood, but most of the time he was delirious. At Eve o'clock the nurse told her to leave. She kissed him softly and walked out in tears. That was the last time she saw her brother alive. She didn 't go near her piano for months. It remind- ed her too much of Da vid. Da vid sitting on the bench playing chopsticks, David standing behind her sing- ing in his rich tenor voice, Da vid slamming the piano lid and spraining three of her hngers. No, she couldn 't go near her piano. Yet one day she wanted to, she wanted to do something for Da vid. She sat alone at the piano trying to make music. It was dark - two candles softly illuminated the music and her tear-streaked face. Her though ts were only of the accident. The music seemed too heavey and for- mal, not like Da vid, who was lively and bright. She was not used to the music not coming. She wanted it to flow through her fingers like it used to before. David? she whispered, David, help me. I need my music. Then it came. Not fast or easy, as it used to, but it came. The music formed intricate flowing melodies that spoke of David. His quick agile mind and hands were there, hands strong enough to lift weigh ts, yet gentle enough to fondle a kitten. When she finished playing, her tears had stopped. She felt strangely peaceful. Da vid was still with her - not physically, but he was there. He was there in the photos and memories, but most of all, he was there in her song for Da vid. by Lorie Biegert '83 DEBBIE BROWN '83