Hillcrest High School - Prospectus Yearbook (Jamaica, NY)

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JR ,i 'J' 'A y. 1. - -WEL .X ,A ,f::,- . .rx ,- x P. . F 5 4 'is iii .' Tree, Black Woman Sandra Robinson :fix i -eg: zfgfittafmveif f' i-Ewifti-1?4i,4g:, f 1 i-vii, me uri . tr-, ,pw ' .i ici, 'w9Aa:- 1 S , . wi 'tt ,za , i i ,width ,. . ' . wif gafssiitqg-4 ,, -- ' '.tu'4i f - 4 ' M-is-'Z , ' wi 1 Zftt gvff i, Jgggnl hai, I J, , --fi r Q-- ,-4: -- -1 ' aw V, A. '- I ,A JM. 43.4 , : ' iv 1 1' I I iw:,r,l,,i:' 'L ,Wi , 'iw 1 'fr .,.t, p rf' In ga- lf: Wt tt ,ti '!.'- Wilt , iff.-7'-!,f'.,, it ,,,4, ,, Your seeds are planted in the soil ofpain, fertilized by strength Watered by pride. With outstretched hand you maintain your native love Stand, tree, through stormy weather For your own eternal crops, and there is no end to your harvest With limbs, mind you support the towers of your Culture like a nursing mother With wooded breasts you feed mild love. Be not deciduous or the branch you inspire with hope will be bare of its struggling leaves And fall To the bottomless earth Concentrate on your roots They are the base of existenfe W3w.?f' 'V

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After the fight I didn't feel bad. Usually when I fought with my son I would walk away feeling downright guilty, but not this time. Who the hell did he think he was? Here we were in the middle of an important war and that stu- pid boy wanted to leave home and fight. Normally I'd be proud to have my son fight, being a soldier myself, but when he told me it was for the opposite side, well that was the last straw. - Angela Bianculli Go ahead, I had told him, Go and become a Yankee, just don't call yourself my son Of Course his mother was out there That woman has a soft heart, too soft I knocked some sense into him. When handle him good, but now that he's grew him up, he forgot that he him go and fight against his him right if he got shot, him. It's getting warmer now the Yanks around in the right now. camped a house as a around do my Art Work By Torben Karlsen younger I was a carrying water But every looks so much every two crys and writes home. But something in far as I'm con- 't he know he's Oh, my God! Here they come! The shots are ringing out like fire crackers. The battle has begun. All I can in this darkness is men falling all around me. I can feel Elsie tugging on my arm shouting something about a young man wounded in the front yard. Can't she see I'm busy. Women can be so stupid at times. Leave me alone, I'm busy shooting. What the hell is going on? Who's that crying? Where's Elsie? The door is open, I hope she ain't hurt. There she is kneeling on the ground outside. Who's that she's holding? Oh, my God its our son! With tears in her eyes she looks up at me. Without her speaking a single word, I know that my son, has finally decided he wants to come home.