New Utrecht High School - Comet Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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charles devlin ln An Artist It Would Be Temperament E felt like hitting someone . .. any- one. just to feel the solid flesh under his lists . . . ecstacy. The freshman in front of him irked him. Someone poked him gently in the ribs as he walked down the hall. He turned around with a glare in his eyes . . . Must be some wise guy! But it was only Jim . . . good old Jim . . . but he wished he'd stop poking him in the ribs . . . so uncomfortable . . . a most irritating habit. Why didn't that teacher shut up? All that talk about Napoleon, and Bismark, and Cromwell . . . that was all bunk . . . they were a bunch of fools, anyway. He didn't see where they got their reputations . . . probably had good press agents. He thought of home . . . Gee! he'd be glad to get back home . . . out of school. Somehow, the day passed like a ton of bricks in an Austin . . . That itch in his hair both- ered him . . . why did one have to have itches? They were of no earthly use . . . as far as he could see . . . Same way with bugs . . . he'd never understand why the good Lord had put them on earth. Take, for instance, mosquitoes . . . pesky things. . . HE came into the house, singing. He jumped into the air several times . . . almost hit the ceiling. His mother told him to stop it: he was acting crazy. Why couldn't Eight he be himself anyway? People were awful . . . a bunch of gloom bearers . . . why couldn't he act the way he wished? . . . he was flaming into a terrible rage . . . He'd show them . . . he'd act the way he felt. HE left the house, quietly humming. Nice day, he thought . . . won't do homework now . . . in the evening was the time . . . no use wasting such a swell day . . . The man in the grocery store irritated him. Why did he have to stand there, gap- ing and talking with thecustomers? The store was a place of business . . . not a gab mart . . . what right had he to discuss anything else . . . he felt like choking the talkative customer. He left the store singing again . . . the world was a great place. Swell weather. Nice clerk in the store. His mother was a great pal, even if she did send him to the store . . . He decided to do his homework when he reached the house . . . instead he turned on the radio. Bet there was some good mu- sic on . . . he was feeling great . . . felt like loafing . . . listening to the radio. The thing began to buzz terribly . . . why did it have to buzz? He turned the dial . . . didn't seem to be any music on. Terrible state of affairs . . . no music . . . he felt like swearing heartily for all he was worth HE left the house, muttering under his breath. He met jenny . . . had a talk with her . . . he felt great . . . Jenny was a pretty girl.

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tithe Qllumet again . . . it was cold . . . but he felt warm inside . . . his head drooped . . . he dozed . . . Mathers is a boy . . . stealthily, he is creeping down the stairs with his brother. . . they peek into the living room . . . father is decorating the tree . . . mother enters with some packages in her arms . . . Oh dear, she sighs, now where did I put johnny's sled? . . . father says, We'l1 hang Clyde's skates on this side . . . then Clyde is pull- ing him by the arm . . . SH . ..let's go back to bed before we're found out . . . SOMEONE tugged at his sleeve gently. Mathers started, opened his eyes and turned around. A shabbily clad person, with collar turned up, cap pulled down over the eyes, stood before him. Mister, could you spare a dime for a cup o' coffee. I haven't eaten for the last two days, whined a hoarse voice. A slight alco- holic odor came from the man. No, Mathers harshly answered as he turned to walk away. Immediately he was sorry for what he had done. The man's fig- ure somehow reminded him of his brother. Clyde would be about the same height as this bum, but better built. Hey, you, he called, C'm back 'ere. The man approached him silently, cau- tiously. Mathers refrained from asking for his name as he had intended to do. Instead, he thrust a dollar bill into the poor fellow's hand and walked away rapidly, for he did not want the wretch's thanks. He could not afford to part with dollar bills so easily, but the man reminded him of his brother so much . . . The panhandler stared after Mather's re- treating figure for a long time. Slowly he dropped his eyes to the bill crushed in his horny hand. With trembling fingers, he wiped away a tear that had rolled down his leathery cheek. Ay, Johnny, he whispered huskily, you've at least given me something to get drunk on. He hunched his narrow shoulders and disappeared into the gloom. AS Mathers left the park, the white pave- ments seemed to assume a cheery aspect. The pureness of the snow seemed to cover the ugly sins of mankind. For the first time Mathers noticed the merrily decorated win- dows. He even looked into some and saw beautilied trees. His heart felt lighter. Work tomorrow- Only half a day, then he'll be free to go out and enjoy himself. He could not understand why he had felt so sad before. THE good deed had cheered Mathers. He never saw this article tucked away in an obscure corner of the following day's paper: VICTIM OF POISONED BOOZE Early this morning an unconscious man, suffering from the eHects of drinking diluted wood alcohol, was found near the Christ- mas tree in Carmel Park. He died in the ambulance as he was being taken to Gou- vorneur Hospital. In his pocket was found an old envelope addressed to Clyde Mathers. No other clew to his identity has been discovered. He appeared to be about thirty-five years of age, is five feet, nine inches tall . . . THE END Seven

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GDB 0011121 He left her, intending to go to the mov- have to change in the evening? By gosh . ies . . . he discovered he hadn't enough he felt awful. What was he going to do? money to go in . . . the prices had changed Damn the movies . . . he went up the street to evening prices . . . why did the prices . . . blazing mad . . . THE END o Rainstorm Mildred Dtmetz You do not know- But as I watched the train Go out And clash with the horizon, My heart hung limp, My throat Was a mass of Unshed tears, And I felt like The brooding clouds That warned of rain. I turned-and going back I hoped that I might cry And ease the pain That pierced my breast. Then, suddenly, the clouds burst- And large watery drops Fell over me,- And soon I no longer felt grieved, But instead, Full of understanding and love. So I took my rain-washed self Into the little home, And our little girl Who ran to meet me, As I came up the walk, Laughingly cried- Mother, the rain drops on your face Make you look as though You've been crying . . . Nine