Mitchell College - Thames Log Yearbook (New London, CT)

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hockey puck. Originally, I was the sap of a beautiful rubber tree in the south of Guatemala. I circulated throughout the tree, which was dependent upon me for its sustenance. Those were the good ol, days when I helped provide shade for passing caballeros. The Guatemalan sun was warm, and the rain comforting. 'But one day, an American imperialist drained me from my blissful environment. I was pumped aboard a rusty steamer bound for Akron, Ohio. There, I was boiled mercilessly. My happy disposition soured as my consistency thickened. They molded me into an automobile tire. After that technological socialization trauma, I was never the same again. 'From Akron, I was shipped to Detroit and assigned the demoralizing position of right front tire on a 1964 Corvair. 'A little ol' lady from Buffalo ordered that auto, and I spent most of the next four years sitting in her garage. I felt only a little wear and tear each Sunday as she rode me to church and back. 'But one day in '68, catastrophe struck. The ol' lady's nephew received his draft notice. One quiet night, he stole the Corvair and sped his way to Canada. By the time we hit Toronto, the Corvair and and I were thoroughly shot. The nephew sold us to a junk dealer who dismantled us. I don't know what happened to the rest of the auto, but I was sold to a sporting goods manufacturer who melted me down and molded me into seven NHL pucks. I don't know what happened to my six brothers, but I believe that two were shipped to the New York Rangers, three to the Detroit Red Wings, and one to the Toronto Maple Leafs. I was sent to the Montreal Canadians with a host of other pucks. 'We were stored under the stands of the Montreal Forum. Our ranks were decimated periodically. I never knew what happened to my fellow pucks until one night in February, '69. An attendant took me off the shelf and placed me in a deep freeze which further hardened my consistency. I kept dreaming of the warmth of the Guatemalan jungle. Soon, I was taken out of the freezer and given to a league official who inspected me for flaws. He approved of me and passed me on to a referee. 'The referee fondled me, but not for long. Soon, he threw me upon the ice so that I landed broadside. Before I could recover from that initial shock, I found myself being slapped around, stick-handled, shot, kicked out, sticked aside, batted against the boards, and gloved. Thirty-thousand eyes were fixed upon me, witnessing my trauma. 'The excruciating pain was finally relieved when jean Belliveauis slapshop scared high above the plexiglass, into the crowd. One fine man plucked me from the air and presented me to his son. 'For two weeks, the young boy flaunted me about the neighborhood. I was fondled many times, and I enjoyed watching the expressions of amazement on the young boys' faces. 'But, alas, my grandeur was short-lived. No longer a novelty, the young boy relegated me to a street hockey game. After two minutes of play, I rolled onto a sewer grating, teetered for a split-second, and plummeted to the bottom of a Montreal sewer. . . ' joe-Babe. 'Ssssh . . . into cold and darkness. But every cloudless june 21, the angle of the sun is such that a few rays strike me. And I still dream of Guatemala'. joe-Babe! Huh ? We missed our exit. Aw, shoot! I'll have to backtrack. Well, Arlene, what do you think? I think we should take a left at this stoplightf' No, no. I meant about the speech? Good. Really good, joe-Babe. My father likes hockey very much. He has season tickets to the Springfield Kings. Here we are. Well, wouldn't that be great for your speech class, Arlene? It would knock 'em dead, and you'd pick up a sure A. Yeah. But I just can't picture myself as a hockey puck. I think I'll work on the Statue of Liberty idea. Thanks an awful lot, joe-Babe. Thanks for the ride, and have a real nice weekend. Thanks! Same to you! . . . Arlene-Babe.

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BS 103 by joseph Krakol Hi, Arlene. All set? Yes, I think so. I really appreciate the ride, joe-Babe. I hope I didn't forget anything. You know, It's funny, but I always seem to forget something. As long as what you forget isn't that important - know what I mean?,' Yeah. Oh, well. We should hit Hartford in about 40 minutes. I don't think there'll be any traffic. So how was your week? Tough, really tough. It was a tough week - four tests. Yeah, I had five myself. You know, Arlene, it really ticks me off. It seems that our instructors schedule tests for every fourth week. It's like a conspiracy. Four tests in one day. Now there's no way you can study for four tests in one day. It's ridiculous. Yeah, I hate it when they pile the tests on us. I did pretty good on three of them but I think I flunked one. I just hope he grades them easy. I hope I passed, but I don't know. Fm just glad to get them over with. Yeah, it's a lousy way of looking at it - just getting them over with. It's like thinking of college as getting your whole education over with. Guess what I've got to do this weekend?', Get loaded? I don't know. Well, besides that, I have to prepare a speech for Speech class and I don't know what to do it on. It's got to be five minutes long and I have to be in inanimate object. I don't know what to be. Why don't you just be yourself ?', Thanks a lot, joe-Babef' No, seriously. Do you know that last year I took some personal preference tests down at the Administration build- ing and scored highest in public speaking? But the funny thing is that I hate public speaking. Like to write though. I don't like to write but I like talking to people. I don't like to talk in front of a group though, I get too nervous. Yeah, me too. rt But what am I gonna be? I got it! You can be a tree. A tree? Yeah. You are a beautiful creature deflowered by the rape of winter's frigidity - whatever that means? Gee, that's pretty good. But I couldn't do that. Besides, a tree isn't an inanimate object, is it? It's alive, it moves, right? See the wind blowing that tree over there?v Yeah . . . I got it! You're a radio. People turn you on, and you turn people on. Sure . . . young and old alike turn to you for enjoyment, yet, at times, it's your task to be the bearer of sad news. And when you tum people off, they turn you off. That's pretty good, joe-Babe. I was thinking of being the Statue of Liberty. You know, 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses? I would enjoy watching immigrants as they catch their first glimpse of America. Not bad, Arlene, but the Statue of Liberty just isn't you. She's green and covered with pigeon crap. Besides, only a catatonic schizophrenic could hold her arm up like that, even for only a five minute speech. Your arm would start drooping. Imagine being the Statue of Liberty and looking like a Nazi. Let me think for a few minutes. Q'o.K.,J0e-Babe' Here you go. You're a hockey puck. . . . No, listen! This is great. Here's your speech: 'I am a hockey puck. Oh, you may laugh, but you don't know anything about my past. You see, I wasn't always a

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A Song For An Unsung Nelghbor My quiet neighbor, World War II, Tank driver, Allied offensive, German bazooka, Stopped you cold, Your two buddies, Surrender bound, Hell no, you said, We're not dead yetf' Submachine gun, hand grenades, Ex-track star, Vital commitment, You ran out, Fifteen Krauts, Dead, By your own initiative. I know it, I saw the script, From some senator, Who wrote the citation, Silver Star, Cross de Guerre, De Gaulle kissed you, On both cheeks, Calling you, Connecticut Yankee. Greatest hero, In our locale, Shy away from, Banal Legion meetings. Frank Sabonis, I love you, Hell is war, But credit's due, To those, Who never cashed in Clike Audie Murphyj America's silent sentinels, Like you, Frank Sabonis, Turned the tide, No glory, Guts and will. , Few know your tale, It's true, Frank Sabonis, I love you more. joseph Krakol