Hope High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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XXII 3 R. I. Honor Society E Q NORMA A. AIELLO CORINNE L. ANDREOZZ1 SURPOUHI ARAMIAN WINIPRED C. BARBER HELEN BARONIAN DONALD F. BARRENGOS IRENE M. BOGOSIAN JANICE BROSOFSKY SHEILA CAPLAN PATRICIA A. CARR EDWARD A. COLUCCI BERNADINE CORREIRO MARIA G. COSTA HOPE B. COWEN DAVID A. CRAVEN ROBERT L. CURRAN ELEANOR D. DAHLIN DANIEL P. DELFINO JANICE M. DISANDRO PETER DONNELLY JENNIE M. DUDEWICK CLAIRE R. A. FISCHER RUTH M. FLINK BARBARA A. FURBISH LAWRENCE Y. GOLDBERG JOYCE -GRANOFE JUNE L. HADFIELD ETHEL HALPERIN JANET W. HELLER MYRTLE E. HOLLAND BARBARA G. INMAN JACK JACOBVITZ BETTY JOHNSON RANDALL JOHNSON LENORE KAUFMAN BARBARA KNOWLES 14 LEAHBELLE KORN LEONARD LABUSH CLAIRE LEES EMILY LEO DOLORES LEPORE DOROTHY LEVIN ROBERT LINNE BARBARA MCCANN BARBARA MCCLUSKY VIRGINIA NADROWSKI ROGER NANI DOROTHY NORBERG YERVANT PARNAGIAN SANDRA PERELMAN MARY PISCITELLI SYLVIA POCKAR CLAIRE POLLOCK SEMA POLLOCK LOIS PREBLOD S. HAROLD REUTER ANITA RUSS MILDRED SAMOS HELENE B. SCHWARTZ SUZANNE SILK LAURA SIPERSTEIN BARBARA SMITH JANICE E. SWANSON BEATRICE D. TEMKIN JEANNE THOMPSON HELENE VERNON MARLENE E. WALKER BURTON WEINBAUM MARION WEINER HARRIET WEISS JANICE WRIGHT MARILYN YOUNG

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MEMORIES--tConlinued from Page 121 That meant us! And then, almost as if by a miracle, a voice of authority was heard to say, I know those people. They are going to America soon., Let's move on! Yes, we were spared. Whether it was that the oHicer's wife had been a friend of my mother's. or whether it was a miracle, I thank God. The next few days were hell, but after surviving that night, we were prepared for the worst. My father, who knew he would be taken to a concentration camp, left that morning, not knowing where to go. He took one train after another, traveling all over the country, never stopping, for fear he would be questioned. That morning on the way to my Non-Aryan school I could see our beautiful synagogue, which looked almost identical to our state house, and was even bigger in size. Yes, the Nazis stopped at nothing and were now setting the house of God ailame. At school we prayed, and as young as we were. no prayer could have been more sincere, for we prayed for our lives. Rumors reached us that the school might be bombed, so we were dismissed immediately. The 'months which followed can only be described asa nightmare. I-low, I don't know, but we did live through it. and on March 13, 1939 at 9:10 a.m. when I put my foot on American soil, a sensation came over me. Yes, the past was a nightmare, and now I could start all over again. Today I hold the most sacred degree I could ever hope to obtain-American citizenship. Memories may come and go, but l will never forget. and certainly never misuse, the privilege of being an American. I REMEMBER KATE--fContinued from Page 129 in a brook. I would touch my own short soft curls and wish that l had ripples like Kate's. Before long, the lights went out, and the bedroom window went up. Kate would come to bed, and I always snuggled up close, while together we whispered the Rosary. I remember Kate's every sigh, from the first Our Fa- ther to the last Amen. After prayers I would ask God to please Daddy in Providence, and to keep him safe for me. Providence was such a long way to a little girl in Connecticut. I never, never went to sleep without kissing Katy and asking God to bless her, too. Today, I still firmly believe that Kate was the sole possessor of all the stories in the entire world. One of my favorites was a true story of my mother. Kate would sometimes stop her knitting, and we would sit quietly and watch the warm flames in the fireplace. The story always began with a description of Mom. I remember it word for word, just as Kate told me. The tiny, blonde girl, with blue eyesand a baby complexion. To me, she was a fairy queen right out of a story book. Kate told me about the way she bubbled over with happiness. She told me how heaven shone out of her clear blue eyes when she and dad learned that I was coming. Kate also told me that God needed an angel so He called Mom to heaven, That was a very pretty way of saying it, but now I know Mother was married at seventeen-and died at eighteen-when I was born. I shall never forget my twelfth birthday. It was so beautiful. and Kate and I were so happy, Still. Kate seemed tired that night. She cried in the rocking chair. She said it was that I was growing up and wasn't her baby .any longer. I protested, but deep in my heart I knew the truth-Kate was sick. That night she died! A few days later I was taken to Providence and was to live with my aunt. Everyone was kind to me, but I was ungrateful. I hated everyone-Dad, Aunt Sue. and most of all God. I-Ie took away my Kate! Then I remembered what Kate said about Mother. She was so beautiful, pure. and good. that God made her an angel. Perhaps that was why I lost my Kate. Even now, at seventeen. I know that if there is a heaven and a God, and I believe there is, my Kate is there watching over me. She sees me with Dad and Aunt, whom I cherish with a love far beyond human expression. She sees me at work, play, and sleep. She will see me when I graduate, and when I marry. She will be with me wherever I go, for all through my life. I shall remember Kate. Honorable Mention TEACHER OF LIFE SUZANNE SILK What have I derived from high school, from three years spent at studying subjects I will never put to active use? What profit could I have reaped from the long lists of French vocabulary words I so painfully committed to memory? The algebra and geometry problems I labored over, are they not useless? Will I be any better off ten years from now because I know that ammonium hydroxide is a weak base? Was it worthwhile, or was all my work in vain? For some- time these questions bothered me, taunted me, dogged my efforts. As graduation approached, I asked more and more frequently, Why? For what reason do I do all this? Then I realized that the real issue was being confused and obscured by countless tangents into which I was wandering. These questions I asked all boiled down into whether or not high school had prepared me for life and living. That is the only point of consequence. When I left junior high school, I had the typical brand of cockiness: this is actually a form of pseudo- confidence, a loud noise which tries to out shriek the doubt and the fear in the student's mind. I and a great number of my classmates were in reality nothing but children. unpoised, unprepared, immature. afraid of the great unknown-the future. Almost immediately I began to change and to grow in mental stature. First I learned that I possessed a mind, a mind which enabled me to reason: earlier I was aware only of the presence of a brain, an organ which allowed me to memorize rather than to attempt to understand. At this point I began the slow, arduous transformation from a parrot into a student. One by one I discovered my senses. Every subject I took aided in the process. First my eyes were opened to and focused on the beauties around me: literature was the key. I began to look, then to see, and finally to observe. My ears soon became receptive to the music of life. Bit by bit I awoke, and I rediscovered the world of imagination that I had somehow lost in the shuffle between grade school and junior high. I stopped existing, and began to live. I became eager to acquire new skills: again each subject I took aided me. From geometry I learned the magic of logic, the power of reason. Although geometry taught me to think, it was Latin that forced me to exercise my mind. Now I am grateful to that language. History disclosed the story of the past which had previously lain just beyond my grasp. CContinued on Page 165

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