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

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s E IOR LOOKS BACK ELIZABETH WILLIAMS T 63 s Bbw 1 ag T3 Ji X ,axis fjfhkji T T lil? ' axwzi Kg 5 X ,, JQQQXJ LJ J The Time is approaching Tor John Adams Seniors To leave The daze oT school behind and make Their mark in The world. While we have anTicipaTed This day since our TirsT conTusing Freshman day aT Adams, iT is human naTure ThaT we should regreT This Torward sTep and Take iT wiTh some cauTion and a liTTle ap- prehension. We look back on all The Tun and sorrows we have experienced while evolving Trom The world oT adolescence, Through The Teenage inTo The realms oT adulThood. We reminisce wiTh Tond ThoughTs and knowing smiles on ThaT TirsT whirl- wind oT a day when Seniors Told us noT To sTep on The black squares, direcTed us To The boiler room in- sTead oT The lunchroom, and The boys' gym insTead oT The girls', and Tried To sell us passes Tor The Then non-exisTenT elevaTor. Memories oT Those days oT scam- pering, clamoring Through The halls, our only ThoughTs being To geT To our nexT class beTore ThaT dreaded laTe bell raised iTs harsh voice in scorn, make us a liTTle more benev- olenT Toward l3reshies who are go- ing Through The same anTics Today. Each year a new crop oT sTudenTs will be given Talse direcTions, will lisTen, enchanTed, To The Hallelu- iah chorus, will grumble abouT Re- genTs, and will hold iTs breaTh Tor The speakers in The oraTorical conTesTs. No maTTer who These sTudenTs are, even if we never meeT Them, we shall have shared a TuTT oT Tlowers wiTh Themq we shall have shared The honor oT having grown up aT John Adams l-ligh School. Now ThaT we are Treading The glo- rious paThs oT Seniorhood, we view The TuTure wiTh some uncerTainTy. l-lereToTore our minds and bodies had been arTTully guided Toward our ulTimaTe goal-adulThood. Soon we shall be venTuring inTo The world oT The unknown-The TuTure-well pre- pared during our lives in John Adams Tor The Tasks ahead. 9

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Ig' 'ii iff? of rw N . mlrfjl S 5 i 4vs-M141 For The firsT few weeks. everyThing was perfecT. Then small, Troubling doubTs began To appear. There was somefhing-she didn'T c1uiTe know whaT-ThaT nagged aT The back of her mind. Alfhough Russ would usu- ally Talk so freely, There were Times when he seemed evasive. Lori knew ThaT one Thing ThaT boThered her was The facT ThaT he didn'T go To church, and always evaded any Talk on The maTTer. Then, in November, when everyone was Talking poliTics, he clammed up again. Lori didn'T even know wheTher or noT he voTed, and if he did, which parTy he was for. And so The doubTs seemed To grow, unTil finally she found herself analyzing everyThing he said, To see if iT mighT have some sinisTer mean- ing. ln December, he avoided Talking abouT ChrisTmas. WhaT was ChrisTmas like, when you were a kid? she asked him once. We didn'T have much of any- Thing in The home, was all he would reply. Lori knew he had been raised in an orphanage, and ThoughT ThaT perhaps The memory of his childhood was unhappy, and ThaT was why he refused To Talk abouT iT. One nighT, in The middle of De- cember, she decided iT was Time To have iT ouT wiTh him. Russ, she said suddenly, aT din- ner, l won'T go on like This any longer. I-Ie sTared aT her, dumbfounded. Go on like whaT? WhaT are you Talking abouT? You.l wanT To know somefhing, Russ. She sTopped, To give herself a chance To gaTher her courage. Do 8 you believe in God, Russ? Whil parTy are you for? Did yOU GVGV voTe? She paused, falfernng. -Then wenT on. Are you an American. Russ? I mean really, inside? she de- manded. WhaT are you Talking abouT? OT course l'm an American: I was born here. -I'haT's noT whaT I mean, and you know iT. You're iusT being evasive again. I-ler hearT was beaTing wild- ly, and There was a dry, Thick TasTe in her mouTh. She wanTed To cry, Say iT's noT True, Russ. Say l'm Talking nonsense. I don'T Think iT would be wise To discuss The maTTer furTher, he said sTiffly. No, of course noT. JusT like iT's noT wise To Talk abouT poliTics, or re- ligion. Please, God, she prayed, make him say iT's noT True. I always ThoughT I would know a CommunisT if I meT one. I ThoughT They were cold and hard. I wouldn'T have be- lieved I could ever love one. IT Took a Tremendous efforT To keep her voice low, so oTher people in The resTauranT wouldn'T hear her. Lori, he said, and The coldness in his voice and face chilled and frighTened her, whaT I believe in is my business. I refuse To discuss iT furTher wiTh you. IT I believe in Com- munism, iT is because l wanT To, and noThing-noT you, or This Thing you call love-will ever change me. Good-bye, Russ, she whispered, and grabbing her coaT and pockeT- book somehow found her way To The sTreeT, Tears blinding her so ThaT she could hardly see. She wouldn'T have believed ThaT anyThing could hurT as much as losing Russ. The days dragged by, and The pain inside sTayed. She would wake up in The nighT wiTh his face before her. She remembered The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and The way his nose sorT of bumped in The middle, because iT had been broken once, when he was liTTle. lConTinued on Page 92l

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