John Burroughs Middle School - Burr Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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YOUR SHARE? By SHERWOOD FEINBERG Beneath the fields of flowers, Away from booming shells, The doughboys now are resting, Away from human hells. To die for God and nation, For family and for right, The spirit of the fighting free, Insured our country ' s might. The inborn lust for battle, The spirit of the fray, To shear them down like cattle, Was the cry from day to day. The whistle of the strafing plane, The rumbling of the tanks, No fear secreted in the hearts Of bold and daring Yanks. Those doughboys died a thousand deaths, On land, on air, on sea, Would you not die a thousand times, To keep your country free? LIFE IN THE MERCHANT MARINE By JOHN MESTAKIDIS The life of an American merchant seaman on one of our new cargo ships isn ' t what it was in the good old days. To be sure, the risks are greater, the hardships under attack are worse. But an oldtime sailor would be surprised at the provisions made for his com- fort during the voyage. . The speedy efficienty C-type vessels, pride of the U. S. Maritime Commission, have the finest crew accommodations of any cargo ships afloat. American tankers are exception- ally well equipped from the seaman ' s stand- point. Other vessels, such as Liberty ships and various types of smaller cargo carriers, have less elaborate but equally clean and comfortable crew accommodations. Men who remember the dank,, ill-ventilated, unheated and dirty glory holes or fo ' c ' sles where all the sailors were crowded into one room and the engine crew into another, there to eat, sleep and live, are amazed at living quarters amidships where crews have outside staterooms, four men or less to a room. Many new ships have forced air ventilation through- out, and all have dry, well-heated, clean quar- ters. Instead of shifting for himself, the sailor ' s bed is made and his room kept tidy by the steward ' s department which also waits on him at table. 3 u2T THE VACANT CHAIRS By MARILYN HIRSHFELD Perhaps the most enjoyable time of day is at dinner. At this hour the family settles down to eat and talk over various matters, as during the day they have seen little of each other. But somehow, now it is not quite the same a sit used to be. That vacant chair across the table where there once sat a boy. Many families now have a vacant chair or chairs at the dinner table. These chairs are a symbol of freedom. Their occupants are fighting so that once more whole families may sit around their dinner tables in peace and security. PAGE TWENTY-SEVEN

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GREAT SPIRIT By NEVIN HOUGH Small of stature, fragile in appearance. Such a little thing as she stood before us to receive our homage. Stood silently for a few mo- ments, then began to speak. Not as an orator, or a person of great power, but as a friend telling us of her people, her country, her home. Reminding us of the beauty and knowledge their centuries of civilization and culture had given us — Confucius, porcelain, paper, silk, tea, the compass. Telling us of their lives when there wa s no war. A period when sim- ple people tilled their soil, planted their seed, tended their crops, rejoiced at their harvest, and planned another spring planting. She told of the pitiful unpreparedness of her country to meet the greed and cruelty of the invading nation. Of the migration of a people, the old, the young, to distant places, burning the villages, destroying the cities they left behind lest they give comfort to the enemy. How they carried with them piece by piece, the material to re-establish the schools and libraries in the new home they must make for themselves. Told of the broken bodies of her people and of their spirit which had remained strong and unbroken throughout the long cruel years of war. Told of her belief in her people, in the future of her people. It was a perfect day, and there was beauty all about us as she spoke to the twenty thou- sand people in the bowl, but I am sure that everyone present was conscious only of the grand beauty of her spirit, her strength, her courage, her integrity. AIR RAID WARNING By CARL SPERRY A wailing siren cuts the night. Fat old ladies shake with fright; The old maid next door awakes to find A warden behind her Venetian blind. The neighborhood dogs take up the song, But seem to get the motive wrong. The noisy party across the street Is broken up by the warden ' s tweet. A family of ten run helter-skelter For their diminutive air raid shelter. But a little later the all-clear sounds, And the warden to his cold bed bounds. After all this trouble and preparation, Which might have continued throughout the nation, The paper announces to our dubious delight, That there was a practice air raid last night. CHINA ' S FIRST LADY By MARGIE STUEBING Proudly she stood, and alone, facing the masses of people who had crowded into Madi- son Square Garden to hear and to see her. She stood erect and majestically, capturing the hearts of everyone. Her black gown echoed the darkness of the murky night and its golden trim reflected the brilliant lights which glared upon her from above. The mul- titude hushed into a deep silence. China ' s Madame Chiank Kai-Shek was speaking. YOU By JOHN MESTAKIDIS You are the fellow that has to decide Whether you ' ll do it or toss it aside. You are the fellow who makes up your mind Whether you ' ll lead or linger behind; Whether you ' ll try for the goal that ' s afar Or be contented to stay where you are. Take it or leave it, here ' s something to do; Just think it over — it ' s all up to you! PAGE TWENTY-SIX

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ARE TEACHERS HUMAN? By BEATRICE WEILER As you see your friends, to kids you go around with, every day, do you ever wonder what they ' ll be doing, say, twenty years from now? Perhaps they will be some kind of shop owner, or an electrician, a salesgirl, a doctor, scholar, teacher or as we say, joking, maybe a garbage collector. Will they go far in the world? Will they be charitable, kind, rich or poor, happy or sad, good or bad parents, good citizens or not? If you consider them human and friendly now, will you think them then? For an example let ' s go back 20 or 40 years and see what kind of people teachers were then. From the teachers you know try to consider, some were book worms and gradu- ated from high school at sixteen with honors. Others were athletes in high school and col- lege. There were bad boys and I won ' t say anything about the girls. They were school leaders, quiet people too. Some were the prettiest and most popular in their graduating classes. They had strict parents and easy parents. Lots of them went through these pre-war days just like we are doing now. They didn ' t al- ways do their homework and they had their fun, too. So far, for all practical reasons, let ' s say they were just like us. Well, let ' s look at them now. They ' re teachers and they demand respect and obedi- ence. Some of them are crabby while others like to tell jokes. Some do a better job than others, have more friends, help more people, and therefore go farther in life. They ' re really all working people holding down a job. They have families, and homes and have old friends and schood chums. Some like movies and sports. They get sick and they suffer and most of them have the common shortcomings found in a man. Maybe they ' re just like other older people, like your dad and mother. May- be they enjoy life just as much. Maybe they are dads and mothers, too. Yes, perhaps they really are human. HILLS By JOHN MITCHELL Hills in many ways are like human beings, with their various exclamations of joy, friendli- ness and seclusion. Perhaps you ' ve seen them early in the morning shrouded in mist as if they were women wishing to conceal their ruffled hair from the early morning beams; or standing bright and distinct with the ocean fog crawling up their bases, like a great blanket being pulled by some small boy over his huge bed so that he may have those last few precious moments of slumber. THE STATUE OF LIBERTY By MYRA GITLIN Pierre stood staring at it with amazement This was what he had been looking forward to for over a year, he dreamed of it when he fled from the invaders of his France, he imagined it when bombs were bursting about him in England. He turned to watch two little Czechoslo- vakian girls playing tag. Magda tripped Lucia, and they laughed. They were young. They could laugh. They could forget the horrors of war. They could forget their parents who were in Lidice on that unforgettable day. Pierre wondered if he would ever laugh again. He was fifteen years old, and it was hard for him to forget. He looked at it again, and smiled. Why, he didn ' t need to forget. He could remember war-torn Europe, and laugh. He could laugh at the invaders fleeing from France, and all the other occupied countries. He could laugh when France would again be mighty, with the help of the United Nations. As his boat glided peacefully by the Statue of Liberty, towards New York Harbor, Pierre said to himself, I ' ll be there when France lives again, and he smiled at the Statue with confidence. PAGE TWENTY-EIGHT