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Page 13 text:
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Hope Service Award Q Q1 VL ' IANICE WRIGHT ANTHONY MILLER Dennis Awards SUZANNE SILK DONALD F. BARRENGOS I I
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Blue and White Board Left to right: Al Ames. Sports Editor: Janice Wright, Literary Editor: Paul Alexander. flxsixlant liusint'sx Mtmtzqerg Claire Fischer, Editorfin-i'hiel',' Anthony Miller, Iiiisinexs Af1tll7tlilL'I'. Blue and White Stall' First row, left to right: S. Caplan. E. Rose. B. McClusky, S, Schmuger, H. Cowen, C, Fischer S. Silk, J. VVright,JVl. Piscitelli, A. Bonsignore. Second row: l.. Siperslein. P. Alexander, lf. Colucci. S. Brown, R. Johnson, A. Oliver, li Corrente, A. Miller. l. Bogosian, Third row: S. Crosby, M. Costa, J. Baughn, B. Knowles. W. Barber, P. Carr. J. Chapman J. Chnrifson, Nl. Andrews, J. Hadhelcl, B. Correiro, J, Thompson. V. Medeiros, f 1vul'lf7l'r1tL': C. Samdperil. D. Delhno, D. Grifhn, B. Curran. H, Router. Nl. Baker. G Reading D Bnrrcnpos. A. Ames, l. Clements, S, Missry. FACUl,'l'Y ADVlSORS l'rofIi1f'lion ,... Mr, Chester A. Ruofl Art Nliss Marv A. ljoxwiw ll1lKI'l7t',k.'x Nlr f'h.xrh's Annnhlt- lil
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Page 14 text:
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Anthony Medal Winners PETER ROSEDALE MEMORIES After seven years of life in Germany, while under the dictatorship of Adolph I-litler, one can never forget many things. Of all the memories I have, there is one nightmare which will never escape my mind, regardless of what memories the future may hold. It all occurred during the night of November 8, 1938, when all at once the Gestapo declared war on all Non-Aryans living in Germany. The reason for this was simple. At the beginning of that year the German government ordered all Polish citizens to leave Germany within a short time. Among those who were forced to leave were the parents of a very eccentric man, who at the time was in Paris. The sudden move of the German government angered him, and he set out for the German Embassy, where he shot the first German ofiicial he met. Since he belonged to the Non-Aryan race, it was only typical of Nazi theory to make his people in Germany suffer, even more than before. On that November 8, 1938, everything seemed natural, until about eleven-thirty at night, when all over Germany Nazi Storm Troopers ransacked almost every Jewish home, and arrested all Jewish males over twenty-one. The Jewish people were astonished, and although they were used to sufferings, this was by far the worst treatment they had received at the hands of the Nazis. I will always recall that night. just as if it happened yesterday. I was fast asleep, not aware of what was going on, until my mother waked me, telling me to be ready for almost anything. Although I was only seven years old, I had no trouble comprehending what had happened. My mother, father, grandmother and I, who were fast asleep only five minutes ago, were now more awake than ever before. Gestapo men could be seen and heard everywhere, We could see nothing but we could hear S.S. men attempting to break into a neighbor's home. It seemed they had some trouble, but shortly a reinforcement of fifty men appeared, who joined in the invasion. We were informed later that the entire family was locked in the bathroom, while the brave invaders destroyed all furniture wtihin sight. Our turn would be next! It is impossible to describe my fear, not only for myself. but for my parents and grandmother as well. We waited and waited: nothing happened. Then we heard a voice in front of our house say, There's one more in this house on the third floor. fContinued on Next Pagej VIRGINIA NADROWSKI I REMEMBER KATE I remember when we had Parents' Day in the third grade. The small reception room was over- crowded with parents who came to applaud their off- spring in the holiday play-Kate came to see me. She was my parents ? Kate and I would go shopping on Saturday nights. The excitement of tagging on to her apron strings never seemed to lessen, even though shopping was a weekly chore. How often do I recall the tempting odors that escaped from the cooking pots on top of the huge black stove in our little kitchen. Silver beads of perspiration would trickle down Kate's kind face. These same silver beads shaped her usually straight hair into tiny ringlets around her brow. I can see myself as I was standing on my very tiptoes, straining to see what was shaping up on that massive table. Preparing dinner was never complete without the soft Russian lullabies that Kate would hum, almost to herself. I sat starry-eyed, straining my ears to catch every note. Sometimes, while the cake was baking and the soup simmering, she would take me on her knee and tell me of her home in Russia. Kate would cry. It hurt me so much to see her cry. I hugged her as tightly as I could, and I promised that when I grew up, we would go to her home together. I think of it now and smile. What great ambitions we have when we are tiny tots. Still I know, deep down in my heart, that I would go to the end of the earth if I had my Kate today. Winter nights were blessed events to me. Kate would sit in the green rocker, knitting and rocking. I was usually sprawled on the rug in front of the fireplace, reading, or playing with Elly, our puppy. Then came the red-letter day when Kate thought I was old enough to hold a pair of knitting needles. It was so much fun- knit one . . . purl two . . . rip out six-. Finally, with much more than just the help of Kate, I finished the scarf I was knitting for her. I can still hear the pride in her voice as she dis- played it before visitors. Funny-I felt proud, too. Bedtime would come much too early. Yet, I was not sure, for that was something to look forward to when I had my Kate. After I had been washed, brushed, and tucked in, I would sit up and watch Kate. How gracefully her long braids would fall from their place to her shouldersl When they were combed out and brushed, they reminded me of tiny ripples fCContinued on Next Pagej
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