High School of Commerce - Caravel Yearbook (New York, NY)

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.fd joadf fo mom! This is a toast to you, Mom. To you, little lady, for the sacrifice of your life, so that your son might live and get every opportunity to develop into something for which he was created. To you, little lady, who had the misfortune of being involved in one of the most tragic periods in history. As infamous and as unforgettable as this period was, you managed to survive with your son, through great strength and endurance. I need not mention the period and where it occurred, for it will remain in our memory for a long time to come. You risked your life to safeguard mine, you went hungry so that I might eat, you worked CGod only knows how hardy to support me, and despite all the hardships and obstacles, you were able to carry out these tasks successfully. Then we sailed across the Atlantic, seeking freedom and a new and better way of life. You sought freedom, a word whose meaning you doubted. You sought a decent life, to which any good human is entitled, particularly you, who did so much to deserve a life befitting a queen. The land was new to you, the peoples' customs and ideas seemed strange, and yet you adapted your- self so well that others find it hard to believe. You immediately began to work. How hard it was to work under uncomfortable conditions, in stuffy factories, with temperature and humidity above normal! Yet, despite the disadvantages, you went on to success. It was difficult to find a decent place to live, 'but you succeeded in moving from a poor place to better apartments. You had to have courage and a great deal of will power to have done so many tasks. Besides the many responsibilities, you went to night school, so that you might get a better job. You went through the course smoothly, and received your various diplomas without any of the expected difficulties. So here is a toast to you, Mom, for who could have done so many things so successfully? You worked at every possible opportunity to raise our standard of living, and to get all the things that the more fortunate were able to acquire sooner. If I were to say how grateful I am and how much I appreciate what you have done, I would be making an understatement. For it is difficult to find words to express my feelings for your great efforts. You, Mom, have succeeded in providing me with everything that a fellow in any family would want. Maybe sons of millionaires are provided with more, financially, but who gets the really wonderful and affectionate motherly love that I get? I get very emotional think- ing how much you have done and how little you have been rewarded. It is a strange feeling I get. It cannot be expressed, it is mixed with a feeling of hatred toward those who caused the loss and sorrow in our family. A toast to you, little lady, for you have done and are doing an unex- pected job. I know that your hope is that I should become someone that you can be proud of. Believe me, Mom, I will do everything in my power not to disappoint you. I worry many times and hope that I can make you feel proud of me, so that your struggle shall not have been in vain. You have accomplished all this and much more all by yourself, single- handed, and under great pressure. Your burden would have been less, had it not been for that tragic period that so affected our family. But I won't write on this any more, for it might bring tears of sorrow to your eyes. So this is a toast to you, a toast of appreciation! Clem Neustein 5'l

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Cfadd .Ahfsforg Four years ago we met in the auditorium of the High School of Commerce for the first time. Sur- rounded by our grade school classmates, we gazed about us with a mixture of curiosity and apprehen- sion. For the first time faced with the reality of that which we had been thinking of and picturing for the past year or so, we had to hastily readjust our con- ceptions of high school life. We had just begun to realize that in addition to our lamentable youth, we were awkard, unsophisticated-in fact, green - when we were ushered upstairs to our classes and high school began. As time went by, we came to the gradual realiza- tion that not only were we green and hopelessly immature, but the rest of the school considered us a big joke. Our egos shrank to half their normal size and we spent our time creeping along the halls and running whenever a senior hat appeared, for even then we knew that the word senior is synonymous with water pistol. During this period we were first told of that Commerce oddity, Ten Per Cent Day, and we learned through experience to dread the word, and, if possible, to develop a fever on that terrible day. Mid-terms and Regents came and went, but since we were too young and innocent to be lazy, we passed. June 30th finally came and we slunk out of school for the last time that year. We came back to school again in September, and everything seemed brighter. The very word sopho- more gave us new self-respect. With our tormentors gone, we felt able to scale great new heights, and even the combined efforts of our geometry, biology, and language teachers could not daunt us. We dis- covered the soccer, track and basketball teams, and screamed ourselves hoarse at countless games. Our school spirit grew by leaps and bounds, at times ap- proaching chauvinism. In our fourth term we cut our first class and some of us enjoyed it so much we were never seen again. Somewhere around April of that year we also dis- covered the opposite sex, and were so delighted with our find that we lost interest in everything else. By the end of the term 90 percent of the class was failing geometry or French, or both. Re-entering school in September, we determined to study. Soberly and virtuously we did all our home- work with such industry that our pleased teachers obligingly doubled our assignments. Since we were taking five majors, many of us gave up sleeping en- tirely and lived on black coffee. This feverish pace continued until, one warm january day, a few balmy breezes reminded us that spring was coming, that we were still young and healthy, and pandemonium broke loose. The Arista membership from the junior class dropped to an all time low, and cutting and hookey playing were the order of the day. Water pistols became best sellers over night in the nearby five and dime store, and we gleefully squirted anyone, aside from the principal himself, who came within fifteen feet of us. Unfortunately, the species: of fresh- man seemed completely extinct, so we took it out on the sophomores instead. They were all the same to us. After looking forward to our senior year for three long years, we returned to school in the fall of 1954 to discover that we were-juniors! By some obscure Commerce ruling Cprobably started by the same monster who originated Ten Per Cent Dayj, we would not have the privileges of seniors until our eighth term, and what is a senior without privileges? We impatiently watched the senior show, admired the senior hats, and even allowed ourselves to be thoroughly drenched by their water pistols, while we were biding our time. And then it came! The climax, the pinnacle of our high school career-our eighth term was finally here. The minor disappointment caused by the dis- covery that the best things in life Csuch as gradua- tionj, are not always free, passed. To walk through the halls, resplendent in a blue and orange beret and followed always by the envious glances of sophomores and juniors, was worth the money many times over. But the climax of the climax came on the day when we were able to tell a freshman where room 429 was -and squirt him with a water gun as he left. Even graduation will seem anti-climactic after that! Now, after four turbulent years of high school we prepare to leave for the last time. We have changed a lot during these years, but strangely enough we feel a little like freshmen again-curious a.nd a little afraid of the future and what it holds for us. ABBIE CRAMER