High School for the Performing and Visual Arts - Images Yearbook (Houston, TX)

Page 79 text:

Doodles of Philosophy Bitterness is the frustrated escape of vital life force That is only bound by hostility or the mind's programmed direction - Instead, Let's blend our minds wisdom with our hearts truth and our souls inspiration and energy, Yearn to love And to free the love inside, Let your love flow from you Like melting snow Or collected moisture that falls from leaf to leaf Till it reaches ground. by Lisa McFarland

Page 78 text:

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Page 80 text:

The Colonel and Mrs. Pennyford Huut, twoo, threee, fouur! Hut, twooo, threee, fourrr! It was a crisp, clean morning etched in baby blue skies and warm sunrays and the peaceful silence of the air was broken by the sound of two marching feet and another loud and raspy, Hut, twoo, three, four! Hut two, three, four! The feet were those of a sturdy old man donned in an outdated military uniform and combat boots. Hut, two, three, four . . . Com- panyyy halt! The marching stopped. At ease, men! The troops rested. Now men, - . . . I want you to know that you fought a fine bat- tle last night and l'm proud to say l'l'lC.If . . .H It was Colonel Hollingswood's morning address to the troops. He had given it every morning since his retirement at age 60, twelve years ago, and he didn't intend to change today. The other inhabit- ants of the park didn't obiect too much, in fact they looked forward to the morning production. Every morning at precisely ten-fifteen, the colonel would lead his troops on 76 by Leslie Rotenberry their hike to the park and deliver his address. . . AIII right now men . . . carry onn . . . Hut, twoo, three, four! Hut, twoo, threee, fourr . . . uh, lieutenant Rocksford, may l see you a moment please? The old man iudiciously sat down on the park bench, resting his wrin- kled hands on his knees. Lieutenant, l'd like to dictate a letter to General Bennington . . . Ready? . . . That's a good man, . . . now, uhh . . . Dearr Bobby . . . we fought together in Korea, you know . . . what's that? Ohhh yes, . . . side by side . . . bosom buddies. . . now, uh . . . ah, yes! . . .Dearrr Bobby. . As the general continued to dic- tate his letter to a nearby magnolia tree, a charming little woman of about sixty-five, who looked as if she were pulling something behind her, tottered up to the bench, and awkwardly plopped herself down. Her soft, powdered face was framed with gentle snow-white hair and her eyes shone brightly with life. The color in her cheeks matched her red velvet purse and hat, which was courtesy of Eleanor Roosevelt. She seemed to be taking great care with the obiect she believed to be sitting beside her, but finally she settled herself prop- erly on the bench. Good morning, Colonel Holl- ingswood. What? . . . Oh, uh, excuse me Lieutenant. The tree didn't respond. Now behave yourself, Win- throp. Why, uh what is that you have there, Mrs. Pennyford? Well aren't you seeing well this morning, Colonel? This is my new pet llama, Winthrop. Mrs. Pennyford was directing her attention toward a vacant plot of St. Augustine grass. Ohhh . . . of course, Mrs. Pen- nyford. Ever since Mrs. Pennyford's daughter-in-law had taken her to the zoo last week, she had insisted that she must have a llama. Mrs. Pennyford could never take no for an answer. He's been misbehaving terribly this week and I don't know what to do with him. Hmmm . . . well, why don't you ship him back to Tibet, haaaw, haaaw, haaaw! Why, Colonel, l'm shocked! Please lower your voice. Winthrop