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

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LAUNCHING into the new fall term not only means turning over a new leaf to Some people, but to the majority of girls it bears the joy and excitement of shopping for new fall clothes! I, be- ing one of this vast majority, experi- enced this physically and financially tiresome experience, one brisk Satur- day aftemoon. As I descended from the bus in front of the department stores, my eye was immediately caught by the devastat- ingly bright colors shown in the store windows. It seemed that very high shades were featured, with toast, cin- namon and purple in the lead. I entered one of the department stores and browsed around the main floor awhile, before taking the eleva- tor to the junior department. Feeling in a gay and frivolous mood, I bought my scent of perfume, to lift my spirits, which would inevitably become slight- ly down trodden. I hopped onto the elevator and soon found myself in the collegiate atmos- phere of the junior department. The tirst thing I noticed, because it was so obvious, was that the trend leans to- ward the smart, pert, feminine look, re- placing the sloppy joe and bobby-sox era. After looking at casual clothes for quite some time I noticed that tweeds were very popular this year, even more so than plaids. Everything from coats to skirts seemed to be made of tweed. The same applied t-o courdu- roy. Both of these fabrics looked very smart when worn with brightly con- trasting wool jersey blouses. Wool jersey also played a major part in clothing displays this fall. Complete dresses were made of this fabric in very flattering shades. I observed that this year velvet is the most versatile fabric of all. Clothes made of velvet ranged from elaborate dresses with rhinestone buttons, to stylish little dressmaker suits which could have been worn for nearly all occasions. Having made all of these important observations, I hopped on to the eleva- tor again and went down to the mil- linery department. SAILING IN STYLE ARLENE RANDEL The catastrophe of catastrophes oc- curred! It appeared as though today's high school girl was destined to wear a hat! The hat designers took them in- to consideration and have designed the most youthful and irresistible hats imaginable. Leading the array was the old standby, the beret, and something comparatively new, the skull cap. Act- ually, a hat is most essential for one to look complete: it really adds some- thing to an outfit. ' It seemed as though I spent a rather useless but thrifty day, not having bought anything but perfume. So, to life my spirits I put a dash behind each ear, went down to the main floor, once again walked out to the street, filled with busy shoppers. 29

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I LIKE the summer with its sticky, humid weather. I like to ride, all alone, through the hot, dim woods, with spots of sifted sun beating on the hard ground. In a minute I come to the hollows: the terrible, deep-bot- torned hollows, smelling of decaying leaves and dead water, where there is insufferable heat. The sound of the horse's feet is a confused heart beat on the swampy ground. I dismount and stand for a while, as the sweat HEAT WAVE trickles down my back. The green gloom is sultry, mystifying. From far away in the upper meadows a cicada reaches an unbearable, sharpening crescendo. The queer atmosphere is too much for me. Dizzy and faint, I climb upon the horse and find the path that car- ries me to a long field. The meadow grasses are dusty gold in all this heat and when I kick my horse and gallop, a million flies fly from the horse's neck and get lost in the eternal cloud of dust. A hot wind caresses me. It scrapes my temples and rakes my hair. Faster and faster, hotter and hotter. Veins begin to bulge through the horse's 28 body of muscle. Straining and throb- bing, I pull up at the end of the field. The sweat pours down my face making my hair cling, dank and damp to me. I slide down the horse's wet side and slowly we walk into the woods. The water in the swimming hole is soup-warm and dappled with leaves. Sitting down under a tree, I realize that I shall never stop sweating. My mind goes round and round, being submerged by the smells, the touch of bark under my fingers and the sick- ening taste of flowers on the stagnant air. This heat is immense, breathing, terrible. It throbs within, pulsating and liberating, like Indian tom-toms. How I wish for a breeze! I press my fingers desperately into the damp earth and I can feel the exquisite touch of wet grass against my cheek. 4, v ntl! yy x ff' bp lvf' Z' lk full' lit ll f X but flx G ll P. f 4 gf if A x ,, . 1 .. 'W 1 .-li' -mV'-1 V i:-ii--' -. V-..1t,:f.t.. It v.,::Jqf-- Qs. ffaliwf 11- t Q ,.,i,l'g5.. Q, 5 vga A. f1Q.kE,5 X 'VV 5 -V, 5 I I r t, , ...fr-1 ' IX fix if K f' llll '9f ' Xvll X ,- . . ', ' 2 'Yr'- 'Xjlb 37 ' lt if f 4,7 'Q ff- ' Y u Illustration by Norman Brown

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IT WAS in the summer that I met Mike McElroy. wonderful Mike. We were both staying at Mrs. Neison's boarding house in the heart of the Poconos Mountains. I was very much attracted to Mike from the first day I saw him. I had dropped my purse and he picked it up. He was so good- looking with his brown wavy hair and entrancing eyes. all this and six feet. too. I wanted to make a goo-d im- pression. so when I saw him at break- fast. I said politely. Good Moming. and he answered me. I could hardly eat. I was so thrilled. I remember the next day. while I was helping Mrs. Neison feed the pigs and he came towards us. I was in an old housedress, and my hair was up in pincurls. I tried frantically to get out of the pen. when I slipped and fell in the mud. I was so terribly embarrassed. but not for long. for lVIike came in to help me. That was our first real meeting. I can still pic- ture poor Mike as he stood in the pen looking So bewildered. with all the pigs surrounding him. It was then that we became great friends. Then came the moment I hoped would never arrive. My parents came. and when they found out about my seeing Mike they were furious and forbade me ever to see him again. They said that I was too young t-o go out with boys. mamma and poppa couldn't go out with boys and girls until they were nineteen. But ieepers. what's three years? When I saw 30 I I M I KE: I JOAN SCANLON Mike I told him my story and he sug- gested that we never see each other again. since my parents felt that way. I ran into the house. to my room. I just had to keep on seeing Mike. but I knew that that was impossible. for I heard poppa talking to Mrs. Neison. about giving me a job working in the kitchen. and there I would never see Mike. I just had to think of some- thing and I decided to take a long walk. It started to rain. but I didn't care. When I did return home I was so tired and soaked that I caught cold and a few days later I collapsed. When I awoke I was in bed and poppa was beside me. Poppa. I said. please don't be angry. Maria . . . it is you who should be angry with us. and with almost tears in his eyes. he went on. in his broken Eng- lish. It is hard for your mamma and I. to becum used to dis new world und new generation. but if you vill help uns, ve try. He looked at me very pathetically. then said. you vill not have to vork down in the kitchen any longer. I vill see to it that you get a job upstairs. there you may see Mike. That's what I like about poppa. he's so considerate.