Kansas City Kansas Community College - Owaissa Yearbook (Kansas City, KS)

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THE JAYHAWK Page 23 LITERARY Q A Little Longer It was midafternoon on a warm spring day in May, and Arnold Field was crowded as it had never been crowded before. Great throngs of ex- pectant people-sorne young, some old, some tall, some short, some heavy, some thin-were pushed up against a temporary wire fence that had been erected for this mammoth occasion. Youngsters were scurrying here and there with cotton candy and soda pop in their grubby little hands. Groups of interested elders stood around discussing the last time that such a famous aviator had come to town. It was now 2:00 o'clock and in precisely fifteen minutes Art Johns was scheduled to try out a new model airplane. Right now though, he sat calmly in a press box with his lovely fiancee. Sitting there-he with his dark hair and skin and dressed in a snow- white flying costume, and she with her golden hair and fair skin and wearing a sky-blue organdy dress- they made a striking picture. They sat there looking at each other but saying nothing for long periods of time. Then Sue broke the silence. Art, don't you think you ought to go down now? It is almost time. Yes, darling, I guess I'd better. I won't be up for long: just long enough to get the motor warmed up, really. Then our waiting will be all over. We'll go to the preacher this afternoon, soothed Art. Yes, I know, dear, but we've waited so terribly long. You will be careful, won't you? pleaded Sue. Art took Sue's tiny hands in his and looked hungrily at her upturned babyish face. You bet your life I'll be careful! I wouldn't want to miss our visit we're paying this afternoon. With this promise and a back- ward, longing glance at Sue, he hur- ried down the stairs and onto the field where his plane was waiting. The crowds began cheering and ap- plauding. Above the din, Sue heard the mighty engines of the plane start. Then he was off. Up and up he scared into the cloudless sky. Oh, God in Heaven, please bring him back safely to mel We've waited so long, prayed the lovely young miss in blue. just then one of the engines be- gan sputtering and before long it was evident that Art was in trouble- serious trouble. The crowd of peo- ple grew silent-most of them too frightened to do anything. Some- where the plaintive wail of a siren was sounding. People began to move then in every direction-everyone that is, but a golden-haired girl. She stood where Art Johns had left her. Oh, God, she begged, please don't let him crash! But it was too late. The plane was plunging to the earth in a nose dive. With a mighty crash and a vvAwAA A Dreameris Dream Most people call me a dreamerg' perhaps I am. Let me relate my hopes to you, and then you may pass judgment. If I could choose the kind of world I would like to live in, it would be a world where peace reigned supreme. There would be no I-Iitlers to threaten and terrify the peoples of the earth. As a re- sult the people would be happy, healthy, pleasure-loving individuals with clean minds and pure hearts. These people would be well-educated and church-minded souls. They would not know the meaning of housing shortages, food rationing, and corn- pulsory military training, because there would be houses enough, food aplenty, and no need of military forces in a world where peace reigns supreme. Laughter would be heard my dream world 'round. Sickness would be reduced to a minimum with pre- ventatives and cures for such dreaded diseases as polio and cancer. Race, creed, color, and language would not be barriers to international friend- ship, but helpmates. Fear, depression, hunger, strife, hatred, sin, would be just words in the dictionary of the world. The Prince of Peace would be able to look down upon this dream world of mine and thing of it as a task well completed. To have such a world as this one is my hope. Do you think me a dreamer?-Rose Marie Bachman. great burst of flame, it smacked the field. Rescue men dragged a still, lifelessbody from the charred ruins minutes later. People commenced gasping and crying. And high up in a press box stood a lone, pathetic, forgotten figure-the figure of a sob- ridden young girl who would have to wait a little longer for her Art. -Rose Bachman. ,Out of the Silence He rested quietly for the first time since this illness had seized him. Last night had been perfectly peace- ful. Awful is the power of pain, and strange is the relief that follows its spasms. He had taken to his bed some months ago. His headaches had increased in their intensity and per- sistancy to a point where the slight- est movement produced the tortures of the damned. His body, frail at best, had slowly wasted away into a pathetic nothingness. His mind, however, remained clear, and his skill at conversation was not dulled or in- jured in the least. He enjoyed discussions and often engaged me as his listener for I was his constant companion. His talks were frequently punctuated by unex- pected cessations of speech. During these pauses, his face, normally quite pleasant, writhed and strained in un- bearable agony. But he never ut- tered a complaining sound. It was during these pauses that his fortitude or self-discipline, call it what you will, commanded respect from all. His condition remained unchanged until several weeks ago. Then slowly he seemed to fight his way back to- ward health. He had reached his crisis and had passed it! As his health improved, our conversations lengthened. He talked of his plans and unrealized ambitions. Yester- day, as he was commenting on the instability of life, he was again seized by that excruciating pain. His eyes widened for an instant, his mouth tightened, and then relaxed forever. I sat by his bedside and studied that mouth. It had laughed and talked but a moment ago. The room yet echoed its voice. It had been alive with dreams and ambitions. Now it cried out with thunderous silence-the most tangible evidence of the intangible might of death. My thoughts brought to me the ex- pressive lines: These be three silent things: The falling snow, The hour before the dawn, The mouth of one just dead. -Thad Nugent.

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Page 22 THE JAYHAWK Track When the .Interstate track and field meet swings into session this Satur- day afternoon, May 13, at l1Vyan- dotte stadium, local thinclads will be defending two loop marks. Lester Bitner, Devil field man, set the conference javelin record of 180 feet, 3 inches last year at Wentworth. Les will compete in the event again this year. The other Kansas City mark is held by Morrison who ran the 880- yard run in 2.01:8 in 1939. That event ended in a tie. To inspire the local banner car- riers, are a lovely queen and two beauteous attendants. The queen, Helen Sanders, and her two attend- ants, jane Smith and Bobbie Hicks, will reign over the festivities. The royal trio was selected by a vote of the student body and the track team. The local tracksters boast a better than average record this season. They placed second in the Kemper Indoor meet in April. They retumed home to dump the Kemper squad 81-44 in a duel. Then followed a loss to the powerful Wentworth crew. The locals placed second in the Baker relays. All field tinals and track prelimin- aries will be held Saturday afternoon. The track finals begin Saturday eve- ning at 8 o'clock. Mr. Loren French is track coach, and Mr. Herman Grundy is in charge of the touma- ment. In an effort to promote ticket sales for the Interstate Conference Track Meet May 12-13, Mrs. Houdek's Eng- lish classes challenged Mr. Grundy's classes. The contest added zeal to the ticket sale. Perhaps the most outstanding fea- ture of the contest was the appear- ance in the daily bulletin of per- tinent announcements. The one that started the encounter began, The battle is on! The weapons-gerunds and participles at twenty paces. Each day brought forth more poetic results, such as Shelley wished that he could be as free, as unfettered as his spirit. He longed to be a mes- senger for the West Wind and to fly with it in the same carefree style that characterized the Skylark which looked neither 'before nor after' and did not pine for 'what is not'. Now in a more modernistic tone if your 'heart knows what the wild goose knows' and if you must go where the wild goose goes,' be at Wyandotte stadium May 13. TRACK QUEENS .lone Smith, Helen Sanders, Bobbie Hicks. Hnmnnuininq Parade On old fashioned surrey drawn by palomino horses and bearing the queen and her two attendents led the 1949 Junior College Homecoming parade. Marching on either side of the queen's surrey was an honor guard made up of members of the Indigo Imps. The queen, Nola Cloud, and her two attendants, Betty Schulteis and Helen Ulmer, reigned over the affair proclaimed by Mayor Clark E. Tucker. Following the queen and her two attendants was the spirited pep band, led by two Junior College co-eds, Mary Brown, head drum-maporette, and Eleanor Duckworth. Next was the French Club, which was made up of a nightclub, com- plete with chairs, tables, waiter, eus- tomers, a French poodle, and a French model. The Spanish Club was represented by a float which pertained to a ty- pical Spanish street scene. The float of the YWCA and the YMCA showed a Blue Devil herd- ing some Chillicothe Ducks into the poultry house ready for slaughtering. Other floats represented the In- digo Imps, K Club, German Club, Dramatics Club, and the various so- cial clubs. Altogether there were about 20 or 30 floats which included several new, shiny convertables. After the victorious football game cA.,vVcAA,-.A,v..Afs with Chillicothe Business College the homecoming dance was held in the gymnasium. Nola Cloud was chosen by the football team and was crowned by Charles Priddy. Gene Moore and his orchestra played. Each girl wore a white mum cor- sage with a blue tie, which was sold by the Indigo Imps to raise money. The Imps presented the queen with a bouquet of red roses at the dance. Hallin For the First time Radio Produc- tion has been offered this' year at Junior College. The class meets every other day to study radio procedure and to rehearse scripts. Each time there is a different director, and as- sistant director. The students select their own cast and their own scripts, or write original scripts. They broadcast every other Wednes- day over station KCKN at 8:00 p.m. The second semester students bought a new amplifier out of their fees. This will remain at the school, for all radio classes. Miss Mary Ellis Graham is the teacher of the class. Adventure-Taking a test for which you haven't studied.-Frances Fagan. Shot gun-One which is usually shot in Mr. Harvey's class.-Mary Brown.

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Page 24 THE JAYHAWK Life in a Mirror It has been said that if walls could talk, we would hear many a won- drous secret from them. It is my opinion, though, that the conversa- tion of walls would merely be back- fence gossip compared to the things that the mirror reflects every day. From the moment man first learned that a bit of glass coated on one side with a shiny substance would reflect his image, mirrors have taken their places in the life of the world. These shiny pieces of glass have re- flected every action and reaction down through the ages in a manner resembling a motion picture as it flashes across the screen. From the periscope of the death dealing sub- marine, to the flash of a signal of mercy, to the reducing and enlarg- ing mirrors of the microscope and telescope, the role of this amazing glass has been great. Yet, I think no other mirror could tell any story more interesting than the simplest tale that the mirror in the front hall at home could relate. What could be more interesting than to look a lady squarely in the face and watch her expression as she daubs on her make- up? How that hall mirror must her her laugh when it sees her pucker lips, squint her eyes, wrinkle nose, and then daintily spread a red coat of lipstick about her month. Or tell perhaps my hall mirror would you of the time some gentleman has glanced at himself and then frowned at the poor shave he gave himself that morning. I'm sure that mirror of mine must have chuckled when the kitten tried to fight its reflec- tion, or smiled gently when the baby played patty cake wih the cherub on the other side of that wall of glass, or wept a bit when grandfather died, or beamed as the young bride and groom kissed in that shiny oval. I've often wondered too if that kindly old mirror didn't look a bit worried whenever the doctor passed by it. Yes, my mirror in the hall could tell a fascinating story. Yet some- times I wonder if it could tell us something more. I wonder if that lady, who so carefully put on her out- ward beauty, ever stopped to see if her inner self was shabby or not. How many people are ready to fight something that is no more threat- ening than the kitten's reflection? Sometimes I wonder if the gentle- man noticed whether those lines in his face were earned gracefully, or if the newlyweds realized the true promise of their lover's kiss. Yes, it has been said that walls Brotherhood, Maker of Peace Thesis: Can brotherhood be the key to lasting peace? On the deck of a burning ship in the Pacific Ocean four chaplains knelt praying to God above. Each of these four chaplains was of Ia different religious belief, but they were all knelt there together praying to the same God. ' Why had they knelt on a burning ship? They were there because when their mighty ship had been torpedoed there had not been enough life AAA, Struggle for Existence With a snarl the creature bared his razor-sharp fangs and whirled for the kill. A stifled cry of alarm rang out and then all was quiet. Shaken pale but uninjured his aggres- and sor picked himself up, brushed off the dust, and undaunted rushed back to the attack. Swiftly the creature, with a careless gesture of his huge paw, knocked him senseless upon the ground. He lay very still. After a time he awoke and slowly regained his senses. His gaze rested upon the mass of fur sprawled comfortably under the tree, asleep. Aha! he thought. Revenge! With an ugly gleam in his small, green eyes, he stealthily stalked the beast. On he crept. Finally, when he reached a spot where he could hear the heavy breathing of the animal he halted and then sprang. With expert pre- cision he hopped from place to place stabbing sharply and rendering sting- ing blows. With a howl Spot awoke, bit, and scratched furiously. Ooo! That nastly little flea was mean.- Edward Burwell. ' The Fiesta Samba Way down in the school of K.C.'s J.C. Where people are happy they always have good times. The music is grand at Fiesta time: We dance and sing away our cares Olay! Olay! the grand Fiesta Will bring a soothing, dancing beat To your feet. And when they play the rhythmic samba, You'll say Si, Si and seal it with a samba beat. So that's how it goes at Fiesta time. Ole J.C.'s Gym is rocking to and fro And everyone knows it's Fiesta time And joins in the frolic without being told.-Jackie Reiling. could tell many a wondrous tale. Yet, to me, mirrors are a reflection of life. Life is like the reflection in a mirror. It is only a fleeting shadow and the reflection in turn is like life. It is only as good as the life it re- flects.-Bob Klamm. belts to go around to the waiting men. And so, these four chaplains had given up their life belts, their chance for escape, to the other men and boys. That is why they were there. These chaplains were knelt in prayer, asking for the safe deliv- erance, not of themselves, but of the others. Did these four men stop to ask each man or boy what his nationality or religion was before giving them their life belts? Indeed not! Na- tionality and religion were unimpor- tant! The chaplains knew only that other men needed their aid, and so they helped them as best they could by giving up their life belts to them. A great example for National Brotherhood Week was set by these four courageous chaplains. This year the week of February 16 through 23 was designated as National Brother- hood Week. Brotherhood- is not something to be practiced just one week a year, but it is something to be practiced every day of the week, every week of the year. For if the world is to have lasting peace broth- erhood must be universally practiced! --Rose Marie Bachman. Sweet Is the Honey Can this be I? Honey is running over my lips. Honey is oozing through my ears. Ants! All I can see is ants. By the thousands, closer and closer they come. It won't be long now. They look like black oil running unceasingly to seal my doom. The heat is maddening. I must be losing my mind. I thought I heard voices: but no one would be out here. The first of the little Cannibals is now reaching me. He is eating as if he knows what is beneath this honey epidermis. In another second I'll be covered with a blanket of ants. The devils! They're in my ears, little over my eyes, and between my lips. honey is about gone. I won't The have to wonder much longer how it feels to be eaten alive. That bloody in my mouth--won't it ever If I were only dead. taste stop? Those voices again. They're real! I know they are. Here I am, hurryl Please, hurr-. -Kenneth Callaway.