Knox School - Rose Leaves Yearbook (Nissequogue, NY)

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RUN FULL fi - I A qulffnl l 0. Jill! spans. A g,.g....., V 1 We beg you not to ask us how we got there, the place is out of bounds. You shouldn't know anything about Rum Hill because we didn't either until one day last week. We were walking along Lake Street wondering what Father Time had in store for the Class of '47, We know you will HOF believe us when we tell you that as we pondered the fate of said students, a little man dropped from a tree branch and landed at our feet. He had lavender eyes and green hair which he patted on both sides as if anticipating an early growth of antlers. Une could easily see that he was not of this world. As in a trance we followed his ellin footsteps without further ado, followed to wherever he was bound. It was late that afternoon when we found ourselves confronted by a steep and lonely hill. Our weary feet rebelled, and as we stood watching the little man for further developments, he pointed to the summit with a gnarled finger, saying, Rum Hill, Rum Hill, the top is nearest heaven -lust reach its peak, if you must seek the fate of the Class of '47. He pranced about us for several moments, took one leap into the air, clicked his heels twice, and evaporated before our eyes, We stood in complete wonderment, when no sooner had he disappeared than giant thunder clouds rose over the hill. We debated for a moment, but even though the storm grew in ferocity, curiosity won out, and we resigned ourselves to the climb. We walked silently through the rising storm, heads bowed low against the wind. Boulders of black atmosphere tumbled across the fields, casting shadows on our paths, and binding trees to the quivering earth. Far below us the lake lay tossing against its banks as if trying to escape what seemed like the end of the world. Above our heads the sky began to take on purple streaks which trickled across its spaciousness and became lost in the blackness of that un- forgettable afternoon. Lightning ripped the sky, and the sight of its bolt struck us as did the words of our little elhn companionfthe fate of '-47 'that's why we were on that hill eand now we had reached its crest. We waited, but not for long, be- cause from the sky, coming closer every minute, was an ebony bolt of atomic at- mosphere. We stared hard trying to discern what was happening in its center. Surely we must be seeing things, it couldn't possibly be Carvel Hidlay still in Vassar, thumbing tentatively through Harrison's Revised Dictionary which contains some words that Great-great-Uncle Noah had forgotten. In the corner of that dismal library, we saw Dotty Petrecca standing menacingly over her with a whip. :X grim sight indeed, but colleges have no more use for monkey business. :X new gust of wind whisked by with a definite salty tang, as we watched its vapors reveal Ann Lowry, captain of the Walloping Window Blind sailing to Pago-Pago to pick up Yiolet Albrecht, who had been lost on a desert island for live years. Among the hearty crew was Marcia Rice, who seemed particularly well suited for her post in the crow's nest because of her monotone voice which shouted crowflike from the topsails, Land-lrlOl The eager crew was greeted on the dock 104 fl io . 13. . M if l, '-ws I ,M . 1 0 N I IN, -fir A b V F' -