John Adams High School - Clipper Yearbook (Ozone Park, NY)

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MY TRUSTY BLADE 'TT- BY ARNOLD TIENKEN he caretaker of the gloomy Keilsworth castle was old, yet he possessed an upright military bearing, and had an air of command in his voice. It was with obvious pride that he pointed out to us, incredulous at the castle's wonders, the history of each dusty object. The d-ull glitter of a rusty sword, hung over the stone arch of a doorway, caught my eye. Seeking out the old fellow, I asked him about the weapon. He beamed with delight at my request. I have been here, living under the shadow of the battlements for twenty years. Countless hundreds have I conducted through these halls, but seldom have found one interested in that weapon, the keen edge of which kept more than one marauder from swarming over the castle walls, in the past, and laying waste to the fortress. The old fellow glowed with enthusiasm over the subject. Watching his changing expressions, I knew that I had struck a spark of interest which began to blaze fiercely when he grasped my arm and pushed me along through a side door and led me up a spiral staircase. He threw open an iron studded door, we bent low passing under a low arch and entered the room. By the light of the candles which the old s-oldier placed in a wall holder, I discerned a veritable arsenal. I gasped in amazement and admiration at the array, and walked around the room pausing and studying the beauty of each interesting old sword on the wall. I toyed with a glittering and delicately fashioned rapier from the romantic sixteenth century. I saw cruel, yet beautifully fashioned poinards, Coup de grace weap-ons used for the final blow in all periods of history. A profusion of stout bladed whittles, small English hunting knives hung in the showing, dwarfed by the larger weapons and their iron scabbards. There, near a latticed window was a Roman broad sword, a stout weapon renowned for having l'l1-IE- in-In-n'L.n4lQ

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GN BLINDN ESS 'i J BY JOSEPHINE ATANASIO f 4' ' gf x 4 A X X I... wonder how many of us ever paused to think of the actual significance of eyes. When on a beauti- ful spring day, one is 'Out in the country admiring the beauty of nature in all its manifestations, it is the eyes which transmit to the brain the picture. In the daily activities of human lfe, one sees al- most unconsci-ously the various objects, the picture of which is trans- mitted to the brain where comparisons, additions and subtractions take place. It is the eyes which in working like the lens of a camera impress that perfect and complicated film that is the brain. Very few, though, realize the importance of this most vital com- bination of organs that empowers us to read many fascinating and entertaining books, that affords us the opportunity of visualizing the real beauty of scenery and landscape, that gives us the first-hand in- formation and conceptions of the material things of life. Very few give a thought to those unforttmates whom nature has deprived of sight. For them, life is continuous darkness, irrespective of whether the sun is shining brightly or the night is covered with its black man- tle, this part of the earth. What a suffering it is for them! Those non- seeing eyes are for them as a solid non-transparent door which shuts the body off from the outside world. For them the light, the sun, the outside world are not realities, but only the result of the stretch- ing of their imagination. Think of their constant painstaking endeavors to move and pro- gress with the rest of the world around them. Theirs is the desire to become useful, theirs the ambitions to educate themselves, theirs the desire to be as little as burden as possible. Yet most of them are courageous and brave enough to face the many difficulties of life and dedicate themselves with great self-abnegation to alleviate the sufferings of humanity. Their hearts, through continuous suffering, have become more sensitive, and they not only suffer for themselves but for others as well. l8 l Ii-lE- il-.Il'l'L.Id

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