Hudson High School - True Blue Yearbook (Hudson, WI)

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TRUE BLUE gone. Ah, what a relief, what a blessing. I am a new man. readv to be- gin life new. Paulo De Capua had given up in despair. He had nicked a poor victim indeed. —WILLIS W. THORN ’21 BLACK MEASLES Billy get his grand inspiration from a newspaper tied around the oil can. The item read was “There are five new cases of measles in town. If any more are reported the schools will be closed.” “Hully gee!” said Billy, “1 wish— what of—why not?” He jumped from the stump, over-turing the oil can in his hurry, and entered the wood shed. This was at noon. Promptly at 1:25 a small boy of decidedlv unusual appearance slipped quietly to school via the alley. He might once have been white, but was so besprinkled with black spots that one could not be certain. He entered his class room with a pleased consciousness of the curiosity he was causing. His teacher was more or less near-sierhted. be- sides having some forty restless children to look after, and paid little atten- tion to Billy. But when school had started, he sighed loudly and ostenta- tiously. “What’s the matter William,” asked his teacher. “I’m sick I guess,” he replied faintly. “I think I oughta tell va.” he added conscientiously, “I got all the symptoms of black measles!” Miss Harnish had not taught for eleven years in vain. Come here,’ she ord red. Even from hier seat he looked peculiar. Billy walked slowly to the front of the room. She laid a hand on his cheek. Several of the “bro!:e oi:t” spots blurred together, but. worst of all, there was a long, blak smear on her hand. “What do you suppose cai t ed that?” Billy stared at her weakly, hopelessly. “I dunne—I guess—that’s one cf the reg’lar symptoms,” he explained haltingly. “I think you had better go home at once—and wash your face. I’ll give you a note for your mother.” Some hours later Billy sat cn the same stump by the same stump by the woodshed. His father wculd not be home until the late train and he was still unpunished. He reviewed his sins drearily: one can black enamel used ene white apron torn to wipe up said enamel, one white kitten decorated with enamel, his mother’s tooth brush, cn can of oil and the black measles. He thought of starving and “showin’ ’em,” but a lump came into his throat as he pictured his teacher’s grief and remorse. Then slowly and reluctantly he grinned. He fished down in his pocket and procured an almanac journal, and a pencil stub which he sharpened with his teeth. Laboriously he made the following entry: “April 6— Tried to fool teacher but she was too wise— She sure don’t look it. I kinda like her.” —HELEN I. HUGHES ’22 Ask Stenhina Nachtman why she was walking up St- Croix street Monday, April 6, at 8 o’clock, dressed in her Easter “duds.” Eng. IV. Miss Sellen: “What suggestions have you for the topic of our next essay?” Someone said “The prohibition question.” Mae K. quickly—“Oh no! That’s too dry.” 29

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TRITE BLUE THE CROSS MYSTIQUE The day had been one of those wintry days which I always have dreaded, snow caked hard, the wind cutting and an atmosphere that al- ways seemed so undecided, withholding something. I had remained in- doors all day; there is nothing I dislike more than to be kept inside with nothing to do. Yet I felt snuggly comfortable this night, as I sat in my arm chair before the glowing coal stove. Mac, my fox terrier pup, had been snoozing at my feet. I had in vain tried to concentrate on the nove. I was reading. Mac, I noticed suddenly, was awake, half conscious rather, his eyes wide open, seeming to expect something, yet not sure enough to listen. As watched him, he suddenly pricked up his ears, all attention. I had heard nothing and found myseif awaiting what the doo- might be up to. He slowly arose, a low growl followed, gradually getting louder. He ran lrom cne coiner to the other, from one window to the other, from door to door. I whistled and called to him but he would not heed. Suddenly he went whimpering and whining behind tae stove and lay down. I tho’t that perhaps he had heard something out in the street, when unexpectedly I heard the silk portieres in the arch between my den and dining room rustle. I turned my head. Imagin emy surprise to see the form of a man —or what I thot to be a man—standing just inside the portiers. The curtains were of deep royal blue, the figure cf misty white was nuite trans- parent, for the folds of velvet could be seen right where he was standing. I noticed a shore dagger was thrust through his heart. I did not rise from my chair. The dog seemed quite unaware of a piesence m the room other than my own. I simply waited for the figure xo act. “My name is Paulo De Capua or rather it was. I lived in Spain till the year 1915. My untimely death at the hands of another was much to my regret. As long as long as I could not live, I used my sDirit. control. »It has been my power which has guided you cn your wanderings and shaped the paths of your life. But I have been sorely disappointed; you have seemed not to realize that your actions are not your own and try to analyze your lack of initiative. I have come to you finally to explain, since you have proved so stupid. Here he carne forward a step and took my right hand in his. The tiuth about my life dawned upon me. It is true enough that I seemed to have been carried about the globe cn the winds with no serious purpose. He resumed speaking. “You see here—that is the ‘Cross Mystique.’ Anyone with this cross cn his right palm has psychic powers which can be used if exercise-1 T shall leave now, you must exercise your psychic power as a livelihoed ” Gradually the shadowy, misty, veil-like man faded into the velvet cur- tains. Three years have passed and yet I do not use my powers. My friends, who know of my gift, have often begged me to use it to commrn;- cate with their dead. It has always hurt me to refuse people when their request is so well meant, but I am determined never to us? mv power. A year has elapsed since I wrote the above. It was last nio-ht T sat alcne with my dog in the same room and precisely the same position I al- ways do,, and incidentally the same as the night my spirit control appeared. I was reading poetry by Ella Wheeler Wilcox when I felt quite trans- formed, a new man. I had a free feeling as tho’ a great burden had been lifted- I was transfixed. I threw myself back in the chair, relaxing, when my book slid to the fi.ocr. I made no effort to step it. I remained motion- less, my hands lying palm up, the way I held my book. My gaze became rigid of a sudden. The curse cf the “Cross Mystique” was lift d. It was 28

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TRUE BLUE ALUMNI REPORT Among- the Alumni the following are employed at the Hudson shop offices: Lenora Borge Theodore Newholm Nella Roalkvam James McMahon Helen Peterson Those at the St- Paul General Offices are: Herman Rusch Frances Fable Edwin Rusch Lillie Miller Clarence Lee Edward Vik Edna Christensen Erma Larson Uice Lee is teaching at Crcokstcn, Minn. William Crandall teaches Palmer Method at St. James School, Faribault, Minn. Florence Pearson is attending Macalcster. Henry Blier is doing dentist work in St. Paul. Mrs. Lomnes and daughter Gwendolen are in Honolulu, where the forme;- is engaged at pcst-cffice work. Harry Hodgins is doing dentist work in Alaska. Abe Lystad will graduate from West Point this spring. Helen Kircher is attending the University of Minnesota. Amcng the teachers are: Norma Everscn, Baldwin; Alice Sherry, New Richmond and Margaret Williams, Ashland. James Singer is emnloyed at his father’s store. Star Dennison and Robert Jones are attending an engineering school in Milwaukee. Erna Klein and Josphine Loughney are stenogranhers in S+- Paul. Those teaching in St. Paul are: Jane O’Connell. Florence LMs- ney, Viola Roe, Jean Boggs. Emma Borge is teaching at Two Harbors, Minn- Lucille Beggs is teaching in Red Wing, Minn. Harry Zarske is part owner of the Zarske Bros, meat market in this city. Ruth Garrity, who is attending a musical academv at Gales- burg, 111., sang during Auditorium period recently. Things we’ll never get. Holidays—On Armistice Day and Good Friday (can’t be found in the statutes) An X in History Co it goes St. Peter—“Well who are you?” 1st Candidate—“I am a candidate of H. H. S.” St. Peter—“Did you support all class doings?” 1st Candidate—“I did.” St. Peter—“Pass on.” (St. Peter to 2nd Candidate.' —“And who are von 9” 2nd Candidate-—“A pupil of H. H. S.” St. Peter—“Did you appropriate pens, paper and books, which didn’t belong to you ?” 2nd Candidate—“Er—yes, - sometimes.” St. Peter—“First elevator down.” ‘“Hush, the clock is striking.” “What for? Shorter hours?” 30