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

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A REFLECTI ON As I dreamily sit here and ponder about life, I seem only to think of human strife. I know there must be more out there. Isn 't anyone strong enough to share? My mind is filled with so many strange things, Then, suddenl y, this reflection is seen. We act friendly and so secure When truthfully we are lost and unsure. How long will we live in this lost and lonely place Of constant competition to win the race? I cannot see our reasons for entering this marathon. For no matter how hard we try, we are never done. Why must we be on top of it all? Is it so terrible if we should fall? A fall would not mean failure - only steps to a new direction. For when we fall we are always given reproof and correction. No, longer should we be afraid of those who pass us y. For we will succeed just by setting our goals high. When others' eyes are opened, as mine were today, They will see the light of happiness, which will show them the way. by Kelly Werth '81 MEANING OF LOVE I love you not only for what you are But for what you made of me, And what we are when we're together. Ilove you for what you taught me- How to love and care for someone- More than any creed could ever say. I love you for putting your hand in my heart And pulling out in the light all the belonging I never knew I had And no one ever looked far enough to find. You've done it without touch, without word. Without sigh. You've done it by being your own special self Perhaps that 's the meaning of love . . . after all. by Barbara Rosinski '82 ILLY JOEL . fl: ' : 'V ,I .f ' L , I ff. ,. 3, . 7.7! .f 'f J' A .gil-fe 'K . ,V I V. -j5,',- I . . 1 v . . I Z3 'M I , up .. - 7' I , ' ' , ' 'J ls ' ' ', I., -Kffli' LORETTA CH OU '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

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