Lodi High School - Magic Casements Yearbook (Lodi, NJ)

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fm Wemmmm FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT 01!z4, aww? mba! hm JM Zafe fze Wag! Am, C 1 y of New York's Pic

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Qmem HE last school year at Lodi draws to a close. We, the class of l945, go forth to meet a troubled world. A bleak horizon lies ahead, but we are firm and confident in the conviction of our strength. We must keep the faith with those who have left, and we cannot fail, for our destiny is the destiny of America. From scarlet fields and revaged wastes, from bitterness and deepest sor- row we must rise to proclaim and revere peace. We have seen the flaming fingers of greed and hate clutching voraciously at precious liberty. We have felt the dearest loss, and we must fulfill the highest duty, ours is the task to build a better world. ln leaving we have compiled this book of memories, between. its pages are crammed the pleasures of our youth. The joys and thrills whose memory shall forever remain clear and bright, Yes, there is so much we leave behind but the love, the courage, and the intangible spirit of Lodi we carry still in our hearts. The greatness of our alma mater shall blaze bright always and serve as an inexhaustable source of strength. In the spirit of gratitude and farewell we humbly offer this, our yearbook, which we have tried to make not only a memento of our years, but a tribute to what our alma mater stands for in our heart. 5

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Tribute to Greatness The morning fog covered Our town like a blanket of gloom. Our hearts were heavy Our tongues were silent Our eyes were full. Our President had begun His last long journey- Never again to penetrate The soul of Man with eloquence and prophecy. A farmer plowed his land And looked down unto The rich, fertile soil he loved: His face was drawn His thoughts were elsewhere He was not thinking of his crops: A man he admired, A farmer too, had left. His President had gone to Become a part of the very earth In which we sow the seeds Of life itself. Two small children, books in hand, Romped on their way to school- Little knowing what sad fate Had befallen our nation. There is no school today, I said, Our President is dead. Go Home. The schools are closed. But the children did not know, They continued, staring oddly At the world. Somehow I think those children felt Deep within their innocent hearts The tragedy of the quiet streets- The tragedy of nothingness. An old negro woman Stood in a subway train, Trying to knit with trembling hands A bit of thread: The blank expression in her eyes Told a worthwhile story, She had lost a friend, A man of tolerance and goodness, A man who looked on her dark skin As equal to his own. Next to her was an army private, Reading the morning paper With bewilderment and regret. The eloquence of silence reigned As heavy hearts were still. Wearily I climbed the subway stairs, And as I reached the top, The sun was breaking through The death-like fog, The dark and mist were gone The world was waking up again- I smiled. The spirit and faith and courage Of Franklin Roosevelt were everywhere ln the birds and trees and' grass About the Square In the sun and sky-everywhere. We must go on, I thought And let Freedom, Faith, and Fraternity Guide us in the Peace he loved- Ihrough all Eternity. of '44