Lyman Hall High school - Singer Chronicle Yearbook (Wallingford, CT)

Page 18 text:

BOOSTER CLUB

Page 17 text:

THE CHRONICLE V. not only be a remembrance of the mind, but a remembrance of our purses. The help should not only be sentimental, but also practical. We may help our soldiers by education, by monetary assistance, by a helping hand, by public appreciation, and by discrimination in favor of the returned soldiers in the hiring of men. In this connection, the government has already accomplished a great deal, more than many thought possible, but our legislators need to feel the weight of public opinion to urge them on to greater efforts. Will our course be that of appreciation or apathy? Are we to be considered slackers? When. John Kendrick Bangs spoke in Wallingford, a few years ago, he stated that the saddest thing he had observed in his travels was the forgetting, not only of the war, but of tin1 soldiers who brought it to a successful conclusion. You may ask, “I)o not our taxes take care of this situation?” That is what they are designed for, but have the American people, have you, seen that our funds have been rightly administered? You may say, “We are sick of, and fed up on, this subject.” So are the soldiers, but they cannot so lightly dismiss the after effects of the war, on body and soul. Their wounds were not healed by the signing of peace, nor did their troubles end when the armistice was announced. You may ask, “Why should you bother about the matter?” When we go out into life, we shall have to assume the financial and moral burdens of the war. We feel that we are alive and well because of the heroic struggles of our soldiers. Our posterity will bear the burden of the world’s greatest conflict, for many years to come, and they will revere or belittle our memory according to the manner in which we treat those who have sacrificed so much for us. They have, in many cases, given up their life prospects to go to fight the enemies of our country. Should we not give our interest and assistance in a whole-hearted manner, morally and financially, to our ex-soldiers? No nation is greater than the service and aid given to those who saved her, in their time of need. The immortal words of Kipling, written in memory of the English soldiers are equally appliable to our own soldiers—. “Lord (iod of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget—lest we forget!” Paul Solandt ’22 THE POTTER AND THE CLAY What is life? Down through all the ages, since the very dawn of creation to the present day, when civilization, through the highly trained intellect and inventive genius of men, seemingly has reached its highest cumulative point, man has been groping in the twilight of wonder of things immortal for the answer to the great question. In primitive times, he believed that his existence on earth was ruled by fierce gods, impersonated by the sun, the wind, and the sea, whose anger must be appeased by living sacrifice; later, that men’s lives were predestinated by Fate; but, little by little, these beliefs have given way to another, greater truth—.Man is not the slave of Destiny, but the moulder and shaper of Ins own life, placed in his hands as a sacred trust by his Maker—poets have sung it, philosophers and sages have voiced it. We are like Potters, every one, and Life is but Clay. At first the Potter works blindly, for he is gathering together his tools, and they are yet crude and unweildy. There are a great many of these tools, of all sizes and shapes, but each one has its own task to perform upon the work of the Potter. Some are of his own making; his own conception of the

Page 19 text:

THE CHRONICLE VII. groat, truths of life, character, ideals, education, faith in his follow men, and prayer to (!od for his help and guidance. Others lie waiting ready at his hand, but he has still to learn their power and how to use them skillfully; wealth or poverty, the advice and experience of others, and the love and faith of friends and kinsmen. His workshop may he poor and lowly, even ugly, and the Potter may at first despair of ever creating a beautiful and worth while work in such humble surroundings; but if lie choose his tools carefully, fashion them with care and loving skill, and put his heart into his task, his ultimate product will surely be a masterpiece, inspiring others to greater effort, bringing comfort and happiness to fellow workers less fortunate than lie, and in that alone is he well repaid; while, on the other hand, surrounded by walls of beauty and luxury, the Potter may grow careless, expecting the lovliness of the walls to reflect in his work, and finding it, when completed, but a poor, lifeless thing, when placed beside the glorious handiwork of the true workman. As his work progresses, the Potter is startled in discovering that, with the labor of his hands, he is modeling, unconsciously, his innermost self, and that it reflects, like a mirror, all his unjust or noble actions, and even his thoughts, tinting it with moving shades of beauty, or marring it with blemishes of ugliness. Persevering effort builds it high and strong, indomitable against the attacks of evil, temptation, and misfortune; bonds of true and lasting friendship bold its particles together, firm and true. High hopes for its success, though they may not always be realized, are in some measure reflected in it. He finds that his selfish tears dim the shining surface, and that wholesome mirth and laughter make it glow brighter and brighter. Ilis sympathy for the sorrows of others, and his helpfulness to his fellow creatures in distress cause its outlines to assume beautiful, graceful curves, pleasing to the eye. When his unworthy actions or carelessness cause a break to appear in its perfection, or a section of it to fall away, detracting from the lovliness of the whole, though what is put into it may never be effaced, he finds that, by true penitence and earnest endeavor to atone, ho may cause the offending spot :o become dim, and soon fade almost entirely out of sight; and always, as his work grows nearer and nearer to completion, the love and tenderness which he has put into it shed a soft radiance over the whole. Then, the cold hands of the angel of Death touch the Potter and lie takes up bis work, and departs. At last comes tbe day when every man must give back to his Maker the trust which he received at birth, and receive from Him llis judgment of what he has made of it. Poor mortal, who trembles and is ashamed, and realizes, too late, with sorrow in bis heart, that he has nothing but an ugly, worthless thing to offer, but blessed is he, who may, humbly yet proudly, place his “Life” at His feet and say, “Master, 1 have done my best.” Florence Rich ’22 CLASS CHARGE Class mates—Tonight we stand upon the threshhold, and the doors are about to close behind us. Before us stretch the pathways of the world, a great labyrinth. Our hearts beat high with hope, our eves are filled with dreams, and, tomorrow, with all the courage and confidence of youth, we shall, each one, set forth upon the chosen wav. Broken faith and disillusionment are the monsters which lurk in the by-ways; the pitfalls and snares are many and cunningly laid to deceive the innocent