Hewitt School - Venturer Yearbook (New York, NY)

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Though this happened very recently, it is something I will never be able to forget. Every graduating class wants a perfect senior dance and we weren't going to be an exception. Everything was going to be beautiful and sophisticated, right down to the very last drop of champagne. We picked the committees very carefully and much to my surprise, I was chosen busi- ness manager. Of course I was going to be the best business manager in the history of Hewitt'sl We decided on what vintage champagne would be the best, what color schemes we would use in the decorations, and last but not least, what band we would dance to. My job was to hire the band. The day of the dance came and we all helped to decorate the library, after which we each wandered off in separate directions to our hairdresser's. At seven oiclock we all arrived at the cocktail and dinner party, planned before the dance. All the seniors looked beautiful, and a lot of fun was had by all. At ten we departed for the school and the dance in very high spirits, ready to dance all night, but a very minor problem appeared. As I walked in the school door, ready to dance all night, Mrs. Riggs approached and calmly asked me, Patricia, my dear, where is the orchestra?', -Patricia Shelton Mummy and Daddy say that elves wander about the house on Christ- mas Eve ready for Santa Claus. I know there is a Santa Claus, but are the elves really in the house? Mummy even told me once that elves played games in the hallway every night, eating crumbs that had dropped from my cookies. The night before your sixth Christmas you go into the pantry. You push the heavy white chair to the shelf. If you spread your legs high enough, you can pull yourself onto the chair. When you stand up your hand can almost reach the gumdrop bag. Up, up high on tiptoe you go. Your lingers catch the crinkly paper of the red and white candy. One jump into the air and you are down. All over the house you go. Behind heavy red curtains, in the fireplace, behind the bronze lamp, and under the table Candelabra. In every corner you can find, you hide a gumdrop. If there are really elves, as Mummy says, all the candy will be gone. You run to tell Mummy your plan. Carefully, Christmas morning, you look into each hiding place for tiny elf footprints or an uneaten candy. Every gumdrop is gone. Then there really are elves! You run to your shoe Santa filled at the fireplace. A puppet with a big red nose is laughing at you. You laugh back at the silly puppet. Near the puppet in a crinkly little bag are some red and white gumdrops- those the elves couldn't finish. --Sarah McNeal 24

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When I was a child in New Orleans, the neighbor's children and I had a wonderful World of our own behind some big trees at the far end of our garden. The world was called India, always named with reverence, for in this word combined the colorful and fascinating thoughts that made up our game. To India we brought all kinds of treasures-shells, pretty paper, colored glass, and I remember especially, shiny bits of tiles we had dug up behind the empty house at the end of the garden. The rule was that everything had to be found. We could not bring anything bought, for that would have taken the wonder out of our game. Oh, it was a glorious world! We would sit for hours on the grass under the big peach trees, fingering our pretty objects and telling stories about anything colorful, always in some way related to India or some such far country that had caught our fancy. -Louise Paine Tucson, Arizona, where I've lived for several years, is the home of a famous rodeo and rodeo parade, attended by visitors from all forty-eight states. The rodeo queen leads the parade in a resplendent Wes-tern riding costume-usually all white with colorful trimming. She is photographed, feted at balls, and is the heroine of Rodeo Week. Seeing her and hearing about her gave me a consuming ambition to be a rodeo queen. Last year the small -town of Willcox, Arizona, gave its rodeo and parade and had a queen contest. Tiny Willcox was to be crowded and jammed with eager spectators. I found I was eligible for the contest. I trained my horse and got out my most colorful Western garb. The day came, and I was in the ring with twenty other contestants. The stands bulged with spectators, cars were parked six deep, and three judges were enthroned. We were to perform one by one. My friends and family all felt, ffavor- itism and loyalty, of coursel, that I was bound to win. I already saw my picture in the paper and also opening the ball with the townis mayor. As my turn came, I rode out to frantic applause from my rooters. My horse and I executed graceful figure eigh-ts. We stopped, we started, we pivoted. No cowgirl of the West ever looked more the part, thought I. My final maneuver was to gallop wildly up to the judges, stop in a cloud of dust, dismount and bow. There was wild applause from all the spectators. Ah, the crown must be mine, I felt. I began to remount my horse, ready to make the last triumphant circle of the ring. As my foot touched the stirrup, my horse bolted and I never did reach the saddle. She tore across the ring and I ended up with my face in -the dust and a 'badly banged elbow. That was the end of Queen Ruth of the Willcox Rodeo. -Ruth Hauemeger 23

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Thank goodness it was over, and I could ride home in the comfort of George's car. George was my sole confidant, and also my Grandmother's chauffeur. I used to sit cross-legged on the jump seat and tell him all my problems. A fourth-grader has comparatively few, but I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. Dancing class had been particularly horrible that Friday. George was always very encouraging. He would tell me how nice it was to be called Miss Anne, and that I would grow up to be a beauti- ful young lady. I used to love George. -Anne Seymour When I was ten, my father decided it was time I learned to play golf. The following day we arrived at the golf club and proceeded to the practice tee. After what seemed like an endless explanation of what I must and must not do, I eagerly grabbed the club, tee,d up the ball, and swung. Needless to say, I missed. Not to be discouraged, I tried again and again and again. After an exhausting hour with no success, I decided to make one last at- tempt. At that unfortunate moment, a man playing the eighteenth hole which cut diagonally across the practice tee, appeared about 100 yards away. Daddy, of course, saw him, but thinking that my last shot would be as all the others, did not warn me to wait until the man had played through. I again picked up the club and prepared to attack the ball. Attack the ball I did! By some ill fate I happened to connect. The ball soared through the air in a straight course toward the poor unsuspecting man. It hit him in the most awkward place. -Marcia McMartin Have you ever had the experience of living in an empty house for twenty-one days? Perhaps I shouldn,t say empty for my mother and sister were with me and we had three army cots, but I felt awed, intimidated, and insecure at first. When I turned from the window, after watching the moving-van leave with all our furniture, the room had assumed immense proportions and my footsteps which had never been audible with the rugs on the floor, resounded loudly. The ring of the telephone and doorbell were as terrifying as a fire alarm, but these alarms soon became comforting. Kind neighbors brought delicious meals to us and many games for my entertainment. Fear left me and I began to have confidence that all would turn out well and I even enjoyed the unique experience. My sister was fine now. Mother had discovered she had mumps when the van was loading the furniture. Tilda could not be moved and then we had to wait until the incubation period for me was over before we could move East. However, I didn't have the mumps until five years later! -Anna Faulkner 25