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

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1 . -T' ' ' 1 f .r f : 2 'V Q X Q ' l --f gl, X- Q N 7 rv 42713. IQ jx ,xx R Z 0 . ,A , jf -s w s Stargazing 18 - fliffm 4' B' Irene Moore g QS. X X4 f V :sg 7 Sxgffes-Q V li Q wir q 0 T fig If .I -ze ' 7' '4:',,!,9 jf' 4 2 1' 6' Qc X 7 ' x Q Kg xiq 1240 ? X ' ,f 1 'li I N MN Xmkjgi To I WAS lost! Lost in the dense blackness of a forest, lost-and alone. I broke into a mad- dened run as one panic-stricken, tearing my clothing on protruding twigs. Onward! Ever onward! Eyes seeing only blackness, fear over- powering any sensible thought, ears hearing only the frantic booting of owls. Thatls how it feels to be lost in an assignment but I glanced upward at the stars. The stars-Oh yes! Ever since that day I have always looked up at the stars. So it is with the universe. The whole world looks up to a star-a cham- pion. In school the names of some students are more familiar to the student body than others. These are our stars. After graduation we will still remember names of some of the graduates who have estab- lished an outstanding record while at Adams. Gerald McCarthy is one. He was selected a member of an all- Queens team this term, beacuse he was so outstanding in his duties as Adams left end. Baseball has also captured the interest of Mc- Carthy. He plays on outside teams as well as on the school team. McCarthy has managed to get five major letters. Gold and silver Als and P.S.A.L. Pins. This young athlete confesses that he has no definite ambition to satisfy, and after graduation will start in the business world. Another prominent name that we immediately connect with sports is that of Victor Diregela, who has done such fine work on the track team. Diregela, who just loves to run, fl could tell that by the way he jumped up and darted toward the door when I tried to get a few words from himj has brought fame and glory to Adams. Diregela won first place in the borough championship contest. He has no preference in regard to the races he has entered but considers Eleven

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Oh, The Pain of It By George Bo gin HE rasping, hacking, slash of cut glass rakes your finger, and blood spurts like a wild geyser and trickles hotly on trembling skin. Groping blindly in your pajamas, your big toe bangs against a chair leg. You screech and leap, while radiating twinges of hurt squirm madly in the stubbed member. Someone playfully cognizant of his own humor, grabs your wrist with both paws, and each stretches your skin in a different direction, the Indian Burn. There are livid pricklings of fire push- ing from the hands of that grinning humorist. An elbow shoots from emptiness, splats against your nose. There is a dull solid sort of pain that embarrasses you by making your eyes water. There is the swift, shooting, shrieking pain of a needle pierc- ing the skin. Flame leaps from air, licks with the stinging of bees, the pierc- ing of needles, the boiling of lava, and slashing of daggers. The burn, most torturous, most horrible. There is a sudden clip. Grinding teeth crash down on your tender tongue. It jumps crazily around the concave sides of the roof of your mouth. Your eyes are wet. You moan and wail. A door slams . . . on your linger. Meditate on that pain. Think slowly. The door slamming on your finger. Think of what follows. Think carefully on each minute hurt. Add them up. Two running feet meet space, and a body falls through noth- ingness and earth rushes up to meet with amazing speed, your back. All air is squashed out of you. You make motions to speak. Your mouth utters nothing. You choke. Your lungs beg for air. You cannot breathe. A needle that whizzes, comes slowly and painstakingly into your mouth. It moves toward large caverns and . . . like a hack saw on tin, the drill shrills into your tooth. Swirling, thin, sharp pain that buzzes. Relentless, not stopping. A hair curling sweetly on the end of your chin, is squeezed by the tightness of tweezers. An instant and it is gone. In the interim, dwell on the sensation. Now that I have charmed you with this delightful aperitif, I warn you. Be careful. Do not trip down the stairs. Don't gaze at the heavens while approaching the abruptness of a pole. Don't-- don't-! Ten

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