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BUREAU DRAWERS If bureau drawers could only talk, what stories they would tell! Hidden away in their dark corners are the cherished fragments of yesterday ..... It was proverbially raining cats and dogs. The sky was gray and the wind howled angrily. I had certainly picked a fine day for a tennis game! A long Saturday afternoon lay ahead of me. What to do? My eyes met my school books and guiltily turned away. The magazines on the table were all old, and there was nothing on the radio but serials. What a bore! I suddenly remembered that for the past few weeks Mother had been urging me to clean out my bureau drawers. To each request I had politely responded, Yes, right away, Mother, but after a few seconds the matter conveniently had slipped my mind. Today, however, offered a perfect opportunity. I went to my room and started the long put-off task. The notions drawer came first. What an eyesore all those odds and endS. were! It seemed impossible that so many different kinds of articles could all be together in the same drawer. I found everything from a broken musical powder box to an exquisite lace handkerchief that I had taken to my cousin's wedding seven years before. It was a beautiful June wedding-the sun was shining-a perfect day. My young mind was unable to fathom why several ladies were weeping. One would think that people would laugh and be happy on such an occasion. I was soon to learn that there were tears of happiness as well as of sadness. I am sure that if a poll were taken to determine what occupies the most space in young girls' bureau drawers, hairbows would head the list. I found all sizes and varieties of them in mine. The one I handled most fondly, however. was the pink velvet one I had worn to my first dance. That was a magic night! I had my first corsage-fragrant roses tied with silver ribbon. Is there anything as thrilling as the first of everything? A long dress, a first corsage, the ring of a doorbell to announce his arrival! All the excitement of a coronation was mine the night of my first dance. But, on with the job. I shall never finish it if I stop to reminisce. What is this? My tenth grade report card. just a piece of paper-but in my sophomore year it was the barometer of my intellectual activity. How many hours of diligent study that A in French represented! But what happened to me that year in history? And that science grade! If only I could relive that year-I could get A's in everything. But would I? I wonder whether if we could live again, we should make the same mistakes as before, or should we profit by them? But I suppose that if people did not make mistakes, the world would stand still. In my next drawer, wrapped around a vase I had won at a carnival, was a newspaper, dated September, 1939. I saw an editorial pleading for peace. W'hat vain h-opes inspired that plea! Only a month later that debacle of death- war! just a three letter word, yet it symbolizes more destruction and human suffering than we who are safe can imagine. Safe now, perhaps, but what about our future? Can one country stay peaceful and neutral when the rest of the world is in a state of chaos? When one reads about the thousands of young boys who are daily leaving their homes for training camps and the billions that the government is spending for national defense, one wonders whether the next ten years will still see us as a modern utopia. Or shall we be sending our men, not to training camps, but across the ocean to kill and to be killed? But these are questions that only Fate and Time can answer. And so, hidden away in the dark recesses of my bureau drawers I found only a hairbow, a lace handkerchief, a report card, an old newspaper-but they are fragments of a yesterday and lead to much thinking. ANN KUMLER, Twelfth Grade 28
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