Louise S McGehee School - Spectator Yearbook (New Orleans, LA)

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Thirty-four THE SPECTATOR shoved me over and stuck her foot out. By this time I was rather de- jected so I sat in the boat tying knots in a rope. We finally docked with the help of Oscar and everyone set to work. I looked around for something to do but could only gather my things from the bottom of the boat and stare stupidly. Now and then, Monk handed me something. I held it awhile and then it was snatched away by Patsy. Eventually, they finished, and on walking to my car, Dottie re- marked, I wish our passengers would do something besides gripe. Next time you come, Dot, you're going to work! 42. l11-O. . ? How The War Has Affected Me Before the momentous day of December 7th, I was ct normal, happy person living in peaceful surroundings with congenial people. The war was far away and I was too interested in my own welfare to give much thought to the happenings in Europe. Then, suddenly we were plunged into the fight too. There were no realistic air raids, no devastated cities, no wounded civilians, but there was Pearl Harbor and that was enough for most Americans. With the declaration of war on our part came only one question to my mind and that question repeated itself again and again. Would I see my father before he left? That may sound silly to you-it sounds silly to me now. But in those first few days after December 7th, I lived in mortal fear that my father would be sent away before I saw him again. Then, Christmas came-and I was home once more. The post had grown. Soldiers were everywhere. The men were serious, thoughtful, busy. The women were industrious, worried, dazed. I didn't see my father often, but I could see that he was discouraged about our progress, disgusted with our complacency, and harassed about our future. I only talked to him once for any length of time, but in that short time, he gave me two thoughts which I shall always remember. Do your job and do it well. Never forget how to pray. Since then, I have done more thinking than I have ever done in my life. I realize now that my job is here, doing my work to the best of my ability. I am still a happy, normal person. The knowledge that my father will leave does not send my mind into hysterical thoughts, for my own private life is of relatively no importance. Privations and incon- veniences are a joy, because they make me feel as though my part in this war is real and vital. I know life next year will be completely different from any I have ever known, but it does not frighten me. War has shown me that people

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THE SPECTATOR Thirty-three We retumed to the boat and shoved off into the pen. There was a great hustle and bustle of rigging the sail, fixing the stays, guiding the boat with the tiller, all of which I found myself no part and only in the way. The other people seemed to think so too, for they seemed always to be screaming at me to move. Someone told me to do something and I was just about to do it when another person shoved me over and said they could do it better themselves. After that, I squatted on the boat, observed the scenery, and watched Patsy, Dottie, and Te fight. After a great deal of trouble with the sail, whereby everyone said every two min- utes that it was fou1, we landed upon the high seas. Life seemed a little more hopeful then, so I peered around at my friends-but they didn't pay much attention to me. Patsy was intent upon sailing, Te and Monk were- disrobing, and Dottie was busy envying Patsy. I began to get settled, deciding a sunburn would look nice with my white dress. lust as I was peacefully feeling the rays of the sun, someone ordered me to lie on the other side. Being an obliging soul, I moved to the other side. I now know that it was the low side, or in other words, the side that the boat tilts to. Unsuspectingly, I lay down, only to have an over- sized wave wet my lower portion and splash my poor hair, which by this time had given up a number of bobby-pins. Being a normal person, I jumped up, screaming. That was not the thing to do. Four different people yelled not to jump up and a little water wouldn't hurt me, and threatened never to take me sailing again. When I lay back again, I found Patsy's feet where my head should be. Without asking, I decided their position there was essential to the sailing of the boat, and I moved down further. A number of things happened in rapid succession after that--the loss of Patsy's bobby-pins, the loss of Patsy's shirt, the turning around of the boat, and a remark made by me. All were pretty bad except my re- mark. That was awful. As the boat turned around with the boom skin- ning my hair, I made a remark to myself. I merely said, I don't care if you turn the boat over, just don't turn me over. The wind carried my words to the ears of the four owners, and immediately I felt I should have to swim the two miles in to shore. All the sunbaths were disrupted and I was again threatened in louder and more definite terms. I remained more or less silent the whole way home, feeling the sun beating on me and my hair falling down. By the time we got to the pen we were all on friendly terms and I was assigned a job to do-to push off when the boat ran into things. I was rather proud of my job and I stood on the bow feeling useful. We came near one boat and I was just about to do my job when Patsy did it and fell into the water. We came near another boat and I had my foot out when Dottie came and

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THE SPECTATOR Thirty-five must sacrifice personal comfort and happiness to achieve their goal. I only hope that I may have the courage and character to take whatever is in store for me, so that I may live up to the standards which my family has already set. The Theories of Thrackpzology The theories of Thrackpzology are: 1. Ideas pertaining to falling rain . . . That reminds me of one rainy day I spent in the attic. As I was hunting around, I came upon a very old doll. She had a china head with tiny painted features. Time had blurred her coloring and she seemed to have a tired expression. Her body was made of a kind of silky cloth. Her clothes resembled those of the Civil War period. Her dress was made of pink organdy trimmed with lace. It was smudged by many eager little hands, and the lace trimmings were tattered and yellow with age. One of her tiny boots was missing. On this foot there was stamped M. SMITHERS 1851. I sat there a minute looking at her with reverence. Imagine the many little owners that had cared for this tiny doll in her eighty-nine years! For a long time I sat in the creaky old chair and dreamed of her glorious history. Then as a rat scurried across the floor I laid her carefully back in her wrappings. Oh, yes - the the- ories of Thrackpzology - I know them well. O Charlene McCorkle, '45. Description Ada's qui-te average, but at times I'm inclined to believe that she has more faults than the average negress. She has thhat customary dis- pleasing odor, kinky, black, greasy hair, and large, thick lips. She shuffles around in dilapidated, rundown old shoes. She never wears stockings, but loud striped socks, which,don'.t,fit around her ankles. She drags her feet after her as if they each weighed a couple of tons. The morning isn't a success unless she stumbles over a few chairs, bumps into a breakfast table, or almost spills a cup of coffee down some poor innocent's back. J- Ada has quite a shape. It's,sognething like that of a box-car. Her top sags and sits qn her enormous bulging stomach. The appearance produced by this slovenly creation is,quite dismaying. Her most annoying habit is mumbling aftew order h een given her. Sometimes she voices her opinion on how tgllgeat lohnh5,s cold or why Susie should be made to go to school. Clomp, shuffle, clomp, shuffle! There she comes. We had better go before she sees us talking about her. Ruth Boulet '44